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“I had given you many reasons to be afraid,” Catherine said, furrowing her brow. “Sometimes, I suspect I did it on purpose. I may have even delighted in vexing you, for I felt like you were trying to change me. You seemed impossible to please.”

“Do I still?”

“Less so,” Catherine said. “Perhaps, I have taughtyoua lesson or two.”

He laughed. “Maybe.” He took her hand in his and traced his thumb over her knuckles. “Yes, I think you have. You seem rather proud of the fact.”

“It is not every woman who can teach her husband a thing or two,” Catherine said. “Who knows what else you may learn during the course of our marriage?”

“As much as you, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.”

“I am glad that you chose to be my bride,” William said. “I find myself wanting to learn more about you. Each day is like a mystery to be solved.”

“And am I to assume that you enjoy mysteries?”

“Immensely. But I think most men do.”

Catherine hummed. “Tell me about this garden. I can tell that it has been here for a long time.”

“Indeed. Two-hundred years, at least,” William replied. “It was a favorite haunt of my mother’s.”

A lump rose in his throat as the memories flickered before him. He remembered climbing the tree by the lake and leaping into the water as an adolescent, something which his mother had always reacted to with utter horror. And there had been nights when they had come into the garden and watched the stars together. For all his fears that Hester or Hannah might hurt themselves, William had his own memories of running through the garden and of a handful of childhood injuries.

“Once,” he said, “I fell on the path and hurt my knee. There was a great deal of blood, and I thought my father might faint at the sight of it. His face became as pale as death, and it was rather—well—even though I was hurt, I found it rather humorous. My mother had no reservations at all, and he was stumbling about, looking as though he had seen a ghost.”

“Were you badly hurt?” Catherine asked.

“No, not terribly,” William replied. “It was just entertaining that my mother was so calm and composed, while my father was so distraught over such a small injury. That was not often the case. My mother was an anxious woman, who worried overly, and in that moment, it was as if they had swapped their personalities.”

Catherine hummed. “I had the odd childhood injury myself.”

“That does not remotely surprise me,” William said. “I would wager that you had more than your share, as wild as you are.”

“Not as many as Elias,” she said in good humor. “When he was an adolescent, he was a terribly gawky thing. He did not always seem to have control of his limbs.”

William furrowed his brow, slowly nodding. “I do seem to have a vague recollection of that.”

“Were you equally as awkward?” Catherine asked.

“I do not think so,” William said, “but perhaps, I am inclined to remember myself more fondly than is accurate.”

“Notyou!” Catherine exclaimed, her voice heavy with mock surprise.

“There is no need to say it like that!” William retorted, laughing. “I swear you make me sound like the most wretched of men sometimes.”

“I do not mean to.”

“I know you do not truly mean it,” William assured her.

“Mmm. Did you ever climb trees in your youth?” Catherine asked, her eyes sweeping to the oak tree. “That one looks like it would be good for that.”

“I did,” he replied. “Many times.”

“Have you done so recently?” she asked slyly.

“No,” he replied, “because I am a respectable man.”