“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
“You leaving with Winderton. Go. It doesn’t matter.” He couldn’t even look at her.
“Have you gone daft?” Kate took a step back.
“He hasn’t gone daft,” Lucy said, stoutly jumping in. “We know what you and the duke have planned. We are here to stop it. Release my son from your clutches, you scheming harlot.”
The dowager’s words rang out in the air and that was when Bran started to retrieve a bit of his sanity. His sister’s language snapped him to his senses. “Lucy, please.”
“I will not please anyone,” his sister countered. “I will shout what this woman has done from the rooftops until I see my son. Until I know he is safe from her.”
“I’ve done nothing to Winderton,” Kate answered.
“You have stolen his heart,” the dowager declared to one and all. “Now you wish to steal his birthright.”
“Obviously I have not because he is not here,” Kate said.
The thought that she did not have the duke had not apparently occurred to the dowager.
Or to Bran.
After a momentary confusion, Lucy asked, “Then where is he?”
“I have no idea.”
“Where have you been? You were not in your play.”
Their little drama had collected far too much interest from the lingering theatergoers. Lucy acted unaware of the audience they had drawn.
“She was with me,” Mars said. His appearance startled Bran. He looked up to see the earl standing at the tent’s back entrance.
Bran frowned. Mars had wanted her from the very beginning. He’d assumed Mars had stepped back because of their friendship. What if he hadn’t? A new jealousy sprang up. “What are you doing here?”
“Miss Addison sent for me.”
“Because?”
Mars’s gaze narrowed. “Because I am the magistrate. Or have you forgotten, along with your manners?”
Bran was both confused and alarmed. “Why would you need the magistrate? Has something happened to Winderton?”
Lucy gave a huge gasp and swung around, her hands flying up in the air as if she would swoon.
Bran took her arm. “Not now, Lucy. We need you with us.”
“But my son—?”
“There is nothing wrong with Winderton, Your Grace,” Mars said. “Or at least, not as far as I know. Miss Addison came for me because one of her actresses is missing. We were out making inquiries.”
“Which actress is missing?” Bran demanded.
Kate stared at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. She did not answer.
At her silence, Bran removed his hat and raked a hand through his hair—and then it hit him. Perhaps Winderton hadn’t been writing about Kate in his note?
The thought shocked him.
His thinking had been going one way, and now here was this new possibility. “Was it Jess, the petite blonde?”
Kate and Mars exchanged a look. Kate spoke. “Yes, she has never missed a performance and we can find her nowhere. I’m worried. I fear something terrible may have happened to her.”
“Not truly terrible,” Bran said. “But I believe she’s on her way to becoming a duchess.”
Lucy screamed in distress and Bran had had enough. While his sister broke down into noisy tears, he walked over to the recently closed tent flap. As he suspected, Mrs. Warbler and a host of others were standing as close as they dared to the tent. He motioned for Mrs. Warbler to come to him.
“My sister is not feeling well. Will you help see her home?”
“I would be honored, Mr. Balfour,” Mrs. Warbler said.
“Can you drive the gig?”
“Of course.”
Bran was thankful for the woman’s lack of nonsense. Lucy needed a stern hand right now. He fetched her. She actually came along willingly. Looking up to Bran, his sister muttered, “He didn’t even take the good actress. What is the matter with my son?”
Bran had an idea, and he feared he was guilty of the same trait. History seemed to be repeating itself. He remembered his storming into the offices of the East India Company and demanding they hire him on. He wished to be sent as far away from London as possible, and he had been.
To Mrs. Warbler, he said, “See she gets home, and make sure you give her a big glass of Madeira.”
“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Warbler actually sounded docile. The women drove off.
He returned to the tent. Mars and Silas were giving him well-deserved scowls while Kate seemed intent on looking everywhere but at him—and he understood.
If jealousy was an uncomfortable emotion, shame was even worse. He closed the tent flap and stood away from everyone before saying, “I believe Winderton has run off with Jess.”
“Why would he do that?” Kate asked.
Bran looked at the others. Would she want this information known?
Kate took a step toward him. “Where is Winderton? Is Jess in danger?” Her voice had grown shrill and Bran knew she was suffering from her own fears carried from the past.
“He’s eloping.”
“With Jess?” she said with disbelief.
“If you haven’t found Jess alive and you haven’t found her body, what do you think the odds are that she is with my nephew who left a note claiming he is eloping with the woman he loves?”
Silas spoke up. “It is possible. I never liked the chit, Kate. She was like moth to the flame when she was around the duke. Every time he came here, she was following him.”
“And she rubs up against him every chance she can,” Nestor added. The other actors nodded.
“I didn’t notice,” Kate said.
“You were busy avoiding him,” Silas answered.
Mary said in her quiet voice, “Jess left her cot last night and I didn’t see her this morning. She also spent the night before somewhere else.”
Kate looked at Bran. “He won’t actually marry her, will he? I’m sad to say, but Jess is the sort only a fool would take to wife.”
“Or a duke who is acting out of spite,” Mars answered.
“He wouldn’t be so lost to good reason as to marry someone he hardly knows,” Kate said, directing the comment to the earl. She had yet to look at Bran.
“I don’t know, Miss Addison,” Mars said. “Let’s ask someone who knows him. What do you believe, Balfour? Do you think our young duke would be so reckless?”
There was an edge in his friend’s voice and it dawned on Bran just how harsh he’d sounded when he’d first seen Kate . . .
“I’m certain he could,” he answered, a growing sense of his own culpability making it hard for him to meet their gazes. Action would be the cure. “I’m going after him before he makes a huge mistake.”
“And I’m going with you,” Kate said moving forward.
“No, you are not. I can travel faster by myself,” Bran said.
She planted herself in front of him. “I will have no problem keeping up.”
“Kate, I will bring them back.”
“I’m not worried about the duke. I’m going to protect Jess from the two of you. And perhaps protect you from her. She’s a clever one and there is no telling what has happened. Give me a moment to change.”
“I don’t have that kind of time,” Bran started again but Kate shut him up with a snap of her fingers.
“You do not have a choice. You don’t come into my home, and that is what this theater is, accusing me the way you did and allowing me to be called names—” She paused to let her meaning sink in.
She knew he had thought the worst of her.
Seeing that her point had been taken, that she had his full attention, she said, “I must protect Jess as well, even though she probably doesn’t need it.”
“Then you will take her back into the troupe?”
“I will do whatever I please, but first, I shall hear her side of the story,” was the icy reply. “Silas, saddle Melon.”
“Not the nag that pulls y
our wagon,” Bran protested. “I’ll supply you with a mount. Although, I will set a fast pace.”
“I will have no problem.”
“Very well then. I will return shortly.” Bran left.
Yes, the crowd of villagers seemed to have grown since he had entered the tent. There were raised eyebrows and a good deal of general speculation. He walked through them. His stables were almost two miles away. He could have commandeered a pony cart but his legs could move faster.
He had just reached the rim of oaks when he heard a horse come up behind him. He turned to see Mars.
His friend nudged the horse close to him. There was no smile on his face. “Do you wish a ride?”
“I acted a perfect ass back there.”
“You mastered perfect,” the earl agreed.
“I’m sorry. I let my temper have the better of me. My nephew—”
“It wasn’t your temper that had the best of you. And your nephew had nothing to do with it other than being a catalyst. I’ve seen my share of jealous men. You aren’t the first to warn me back. The question I have, Balfour, is what are your intentions?”
“What do you mean? Why are you quizzing me of such a thing? You, of all people.”
“Because I can and someone should. Kate Addison is not a woman to take lightly and she was genuinely worried about that girl. She feared someone had done something evil to her.”
Like Hemling’s kidnapping.
Mars continued. “Women like Kate Addison don’t come along often. Granted, she is too independent by half but that tantrum you just threw—”
“I did not throw a tantrum.”
“No, you just made a buffoon of yourself. I don’t think you wanted to do that.”
He didn’t. Bran looked back at the stage and tents. Kate was nowhere to be seen. He looked up at Mars. “Are you going to give me a ride to my stables?”
“Absolutely,” his friend said, offering a hand so Bran could swing up on the horse behind him. Kicking the horse forward, he added, “I will also warn you that once this matter is cleared up, I’m going after Kate Addison. She’s not ‘yours’ any longer.”
“She is.”
“You poor sod.” Mars kicked the horse into a gallop and they didn’t speak even after they reached Smythson’s stables.
Chapter Seventeen
Kate was wearing a riding habit when Bran returned to the tents with a horse for her. The dress was well cut, stylish, and appeared molded to her. Her favorite velvet cap was set at a rakish angle.
She did not greet him as he rode up on Orion. He held the reins to a smooth-trotting gray mare. From the edge of the stage, she took the reins and easily mounted sidesaddle as if she’d done it hundreds of times and required no assistance from him.
“You have a good seat,” Bran said approvingly as a way to fill the silence. He was aware that her actors watched him with disapproval. Silas had his arms crossed while Nestor appeared ready to leap on Bran if he did anything untoward. Even Mary and the always silent John appeared frustrated that they could not go with them to protect Kate . . . from him?
Bran wasn’t certain.
With a quick command, Kate set her horse forward. Orion immediately fell in without waiting for Bran. Apparently the stubborn gelding had decided she was the better person to follow.
Kate had fine control of the mare, which didn’t give her any problems.
She was also studiously ignoring him. Bran let them ride past the line of oaks and up the road a bit before he said, “Do you have a plan for where we are going?”
“To Gretna, I assume.” She bit the words out as if annoyed she had to speak to him. “It seems the likeliest possibility, and we really have little more to go on.”
Since she was riding toward the Northern Road, which was exactly the route he had expected to take, he let her lead. Orion seemed perfectly happy to follow the gray and Bran asked himself exactly what had he said earlier?
And he remembered.
He’d declared he owned Smythson, the secret his sister had begged him to guard. Considering Mrs. Warbler heard everything that was said, the information had probably been tacked up on St. Martyr’s door by now.
He’d informed Kate she had chosen the wrong man, that if she’d been more clever, she could have had him. He’d declared himself to her. He’d even said he loved her.
Bran had never felt so exposed in his life.
He’d said it out loud, in front of everyone. Words he had never spoken to Kate in private.
He’d even admitted he had been ready to give her all that he owned. He’d actually accused her of being a common fortune hunter, something he had actually once believed of her when she’d stayed with Hemling.
And he knew her well enough to understand that his words had been insulting to her.
Almost as insulting as his unbridled jealousy.
He had no excuse.
They reached the main road. She turned the mare north and he followed. It was a good piece of road and easy to ride side by side, except the stiffness in her back and the set of her shoulders said she was not ready for conversation.
They had ridden almost an hour before he attempted to bridge the divide between them. “Winderton sent a note saying he was eloping with an actress.”
His comment was met with mute stoniness. Even the set of her jaw was hard.
“Kate?” It took courage to prod her. He’d been an ass.
“He did ask me. I said no. So he must have thrown himself on Jess, or perhaps she threw herself on him. Either way, I was never going to leave with him.”
Of course she wouldn’t. Bran knew that. Kate had never been interested in his nephew.
In fact, a part of him—the part of his brain that still had some common sense—had rejected the claim immediately . . .
“I’m sorry. I think I went a bit mad when I read his letter and after I learned you had not performed this afternoon.” There. He’d said it, and he felt naked in front of her.
She gave no reaction. Not even a sidelong glance.
He let them travel a bit more before he said, “Kate, I ask you to pardon me for my behavior and my words.”
Her head snapped round. “Do you mean the part where you were going to offer for me? Is that what you wish a pardon for because you didn’t mean what you said?”
Bran sat heavily on Orion, a signal for the horse to walk. Her gray trotted a few steps more and stopped. Kate looked back at him. There was no traffic on the road. They were by themselves in the late afternoon sun.
“I love you, Kate.” His heart grew with the truth of those words. “I love you.” He repeated them with conviction, with honesty.
She studied him, her expression solemn, and then she shook her head. “You speak of love, but the truth is, you’ll never forgive me for what happened years ago, will you? When you launched into me, in front of everyone, that was jealousy speaking there. I saw it for the first time, that emotion that you attempt to control every time you ask me about Hemling.”
“Kate, I have never felt jealous over the marquis—”
She cut him off. “Yes, you have. It has always been there between us. As far as you are concerned, I should have escaped Hemling or I should have fought within an inch of my life. I should have done anything but stay and try to survive—”
“I don’t judge you.”
“Brandon, you have done nothing but judge me.” She kicked her horse toward his, stopping when the animals were almost nose to nose. “There has been a question in the back of your mind ever since we grew close. Hemling was fifteen years ago. I’m not even the same woman, however, you seem to be the same man. I told you the truth and you are either not pleased with the answer or you don’t believe it. Even when you don’t say anything, I know it is on your mind.”
“So you can read my mind now?” he said, reacting to the bold directness in her tone.
“You are not that complicated.”
That was a direct blow.
He met her angry gaze. “If I have been overbearing on the matter, it is because I failed to protect you. It is me I blame, not you. And I’ve obviously set it all aside. Why else would I declare myself right there in front of everyone?”
“Because you were angry. You were lashing out—and that is when you tell me you love me?” She shook her head. “What hurts is that after what we’ve meant to each other, you jumped to a horrible conclusion about me. I thought you were different than other men, Brandon. I’d hoped.”
“Kate, I—” He what? He bowed his head, reaching deep within. “Kate, it was jealousy.” There he’d admitted it, and now he needed her to forgive him.
“You think I am so lacking in moral decency that I would throw you over for money. For a title. For a position.”
“I thought you once did.”
“That is my point. You will never let me forget what happened between us. I was young and very confused. Everyone in London told me that I had no choice, not after what he’d done to me. I was also ashamed, Brandon. I believed even you had abandoned me. And yet I had to go on. I had to face my mother. I had to decide who I truly was.”
“I know. Kate, I’m sorry. I was a bit insane. I love you.”
“And I love you.” She spoke as if they were the saddest words in the world. “I’d begun picturing a life with the two of us together. I was so silly—”
“It isn’t silly. It is what I want.”
“It isn’t what I want, not any longer.”
He reached out a hand to her, as if to draw her close. The gray backed up. He dropped his hand. “I don’t understand. I am truly sorry. I’m not perfect, Kate.”
“I don’t ask for perfection, Brandon. What I want is trust. I want someone who will against all odds believe in me. Who will stand beside me and not expect me to wear a hair shirt for past mistakes. I want someone whose faith in me is unshakable. Who would ask me first if something was true instead of forming his own conclusions. You didn’t even give me a chance to respond to you, Brandon.”
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