Page 72 of The Subtle Craft of Courting Kate

“I know. I’ve been buying them for years.” Just to slip them onto the shelves of the library, waiting for her to come and take them. “Books are so expensive, and the village hasn’t got a circulating library.” The Littlefields’ meager budget could not have accommodated Kate’s love of reading easily. Perhaps they might have afforded a book a year—if they had ever been able to travel to a town of reasonable size, where they might find such books available for purchase. “There was no harm in it; I could afford the expense. And I liked watching you read them when you herded your sheep out to pasture. Sitting beneath a tree with a book you didn’t know I’d brought open on your lap. It made me happy to see you happy.”

She made a small sound in her throat, nuzzling his shoulder. “You’ll still buy them for me?”

“And for me. Between the two of us, I imagine we’ll have quite the library. And…” He ran his fingers down the length of her arm where it had draped over his chest. “I might have bargained with Father,” he said, “to ensure that you didn’t have to leave the village.”

“Leave?” she asked. “When was this?”

“After your father died, when the new vicar arrived to take up his position. You and your mother had to leave the vicarage to make room for him.”

“But we weren’t leaving,” Kate said. “Of course we had to vacate the vicarage. But we weren’t leaving. There was the cottage.”

Tactfully, Elliot held his silence.

“Oh, no.” Kate ducked her head against his shoulder. “There wasn’t the cottage, was there?”

“It was vacant,” Elliot allowed. “Father’s land agent had yet to let it out. But the cost he had determined for the lease of it was a bit too dear for what your father’s annuity paid out.”

“And you…altered that?”

“In a manner of speaking. I had heard your mother speaking to someone in the village, you see, about what you might do, where you might go. That she had relations in Surrey who might take the both of you in. But Surrey was so damned far, and you were my dearest friend. Selfishly, I didn’t want to lose you to such a distance.” He sighed. “I pleaded with Father to make an exception in honor of your father’s service to the village and to offer your mother the let of the cottage at a price she could afford.”

“I don’t find it selfish,” she offered. “And it’s been so many years. I don’t think our rent has ever been increased.”

“We never needed the money, Kate. But I needed you.”

Her cheek rubbed his shoulder. “And you never thought to tell me? What you’d done for us?”

“Why should I have told you? So that you might feel indebted to me? Obligated in some form or fashion?” Elliot smoothed away a tiny shower of droplets that the wind had tossed from the wisteria blossoms onto her arm. “You were my friend. I never needed you to know those things.”

She gave a contented little hum, tucking her head beneath his chin. “How lovely it would be if everyone were privileged enough to marry their dearest friend.”

“Oh? Are you such an expert now?” he teased.

“Near enough to one.” Kate jabbed the sharp point her elbow into his solar plexus in reproach, producing a grunt from him. “Ask me again in a year,” she invited, “and I’ll tell you then if I’ve revised my opinion.”

Elliot muffled a chuckle against the top of her head. “You won’t. I’ll see to it that you won’t.”

“I suppose you will,” she agreed, with a beleaguered sigh. “Possibly you’ll drive me to madness inside of a month, and I shall have no choice but to agree to anything you ask.”

“I can’t help it. You are such fun to tease, and you do rise to the bait beautifully.” Elliot worried the ribbon binding her plait between his fingers. “We are going to be so happy, Katie.”

“We will, won’t we?” she murmured. A shiver chased down her spine and chill bumps rose along her skin beneath his fingers as a cool breeze slid through the garden, shaking the fragile wisteria blossoms.

“All right,” Elliot said regretfully, as he nudged her head up and off of his shoulder, shoving one arm beneath him to push himself up. “Inside with you. You really will catch your death, you know.”

“What? Just a few minutes longer—” Kate let out a shrill squeak as her discarded nightgown thwacked her in the face. “Elliot.”

“You are not going to expire of a head cold before we’re married.” He paused in the process of yanking his trousers out from beneath her. “Or thereafter, now that I think of it.” He climbed to his feet and hopped inelegantly upon one foot as he struggled to force his opposite foot through the soaked leg of his trousers. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kate staring. “Madam,” he said, affecting a severe, offended inflection. “You may ogle me at your leisure—after we are married.”

Kate’s eyes rounded. “Could I really?”

Elliot suppressed a shudder as his trousers went on at last, the cold wet wool clinging unpleasantly to his skin. “Yes,” he said, stifling a laugh. “But for that, I need you alive.” He offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Ugh,” Kate said as she shook out her wet nightgown and began to pull it on over her head. “This is…dreadful.”

“Be glad you’ve only the nightgown, and but a few stairs to climb,” Elliot advised as he wrenched his shirt on and fumbled with the buttons. “I’ve got to walk home in all of this.”

“Perhaps you should be more worried about you catching your own death,” Kate suggested.