Page 73 of The Subtle Craft of Courting Kate

“Oh, no. You’ll not be rid of me so easily as that.” The boots were the worst of it. Probably between them and his wet stockings, he’d acquire a blister or two on his journey home again. There—decent enough, even if he was certain he looked as though he’d been dragged through a succession of puddles.

And Kate had fared little better. She examined the stained linen of her nightgown with a critical eye. “I am going to be caught, aren’t I?” she asked miserably.

“Honestly,” Elliot sighed, “yes.” Between the grass stains rubbed into the nightgown and the wet, slightly muddy footprints she would leave behind, she was almost certainly going to be caught. “But only by the staff, and no one will be uncouth enough to mention it, especially provided there is to be a wedding forthcoming.” He coughed into his fist. “Probably you should brush the grass out of your plait before bed—and call for a bath before your mother rises in the morning.”

“Oh, Lord.” Kate buried her face in her hands.

“There, there,” Elliot soothed as he drew her into his arms and slid a palm down the cold slope of her back. “One has just got to face the facts. It was your turn to start a scandal.”

“My turn!”

“Shh. You’ll wake the whole household.”

“Elliot—”

“Come, now,” Elliot said, pitching his voice to a wheedling tone. “It’s bad form to strangle the groom in advance of the wedding.”

Kate wheezed with incredulous laughter, only half-muffled against his shoulder. “I do love you,” she said on a gusty sigh. “Even if you are the most ridiculous—”

“You love it,” he accused.

“The most irreverent—”

“I beg your pardon. I’m reverent on Sundays. Isn’t that quite enough?”

“The most unmanageable—”

“God, I hope not. I am depending upon your ability to manage me, Katie. I’m a lost cause otherwise.”

Kate dissolved into another fit of laughter, her shoulders shaking with it. And that was as it should be, he thought. He had always loved to make her laugh.

“I do love you,” she said again, softly, sincerely. “And tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow,” Elliot breathed against the top of her head, “cannot come soon enough.”

∞∞∞

“Ouch,” Elliot muttered irritably as Mrs. Norris smacked his hand away from the plate of fresh pastries she had just set out upon the breakfast table. Raising his voice to carry through the halls, he called out, “Katie! Mrs. Norris won’t let me have a pastry!”

Mrs. Norris fisted her hands upon her hips, pinning him with a stern stare. “How did you get in? I happen to know that Hodges relieved you of your key.”

“Kate let me in not ten minutes ago,” Elliot said as his fingers crept across the expanse of the table toward the plate once more. “I’m invited for breakfast.”

Mrs. Norris arched a brow in patent disbelief. “Is that so?”

Kate’s voice floated down the staircase from the upper floor, dry and droll. “He is indeed invited for breakfast, Mrs. Norris.”

All last vestiges of restraint erased, Elliot snatched up a pastry and chomped down. “Spare me at least a little pity,” he begged of Mrs. Norris between desperate bites. “I’ve been up for hours already; I’m half-starved.”

Mrs. Norris gave a disdainful sniff.

“And you make the best walnut pastries I’ve ever tasted,” Elliot added in a wheedling tone as he reached for a second pastry. There; the sound of Kate’s footsteps upon the stairs. “Incidentally, are there any more? We’ll be having a few guests in short order.”

“I beg your pardon,” Mrs. Norris said, her mouth dropping open at his temerity. “Guests?”

“Lord and Lady Crewe,” he said, “And Drew, more’s the pity—”

“Elliot,” Kate said reproachfully as she whisked into the room, casting him a faintly censorious glance—though the twitch of her lips suggested some manner of amusement. “Be nice. He is your brother.”