She’d watched Balfour gallop away, hoping that his horse bucked and he broke his neck. That didn’t happen. And now she had a decision to make.
She faced them. Most appeared worried. They knew her purse was almost empty, that she had few resources left. The trip to London was costing more than she had anticipated. There was also the small matter of their wages.
The last thing she had needed was Brandon Balfour and his threats.
Still, she’d not given him quarter. She’d held her own and she was proud of it. She’d need that courage to face down her past in London.
Her gaze went to where Balfour had disappeared down the road. He’d changed from those days long ago. He’d grown into a man, yes. His strong jaw and gray eyes that had the ability to see right into a person’s soul were still there, but little else of the things that had once drawn her to him. He’d become one ofthem, those powerful men whose narrow thinking had driven her off the London stage—and he had been part of their machinations, she reminded herself. He’d always been one ofthem. She’d been too infatuated with him to realize it.
Now here he was—looking down his nose and threatening her, branding her a tart. He knew nothing about her... except that she had once trusted him. And she wanted nothing more dearly than to make him squirm in the most uncomfortable way possible for betraying her. She, who disregarded most men, deeply needed to bring this one to his knees.
“Well, Kate?” Silas prodded.
“We are not packing. We’ve announced two weeks of performances.”
“Then we take him on?”
She smiled with an assurance she wanted to feel. “I will not be threatened. Besides, we still need two wheels and an axle for the wagon to move.”
A ripple of laughter went through the men and women of her company. “I promised you London,” she said, “and London you will have. I always keep my promises.” That last was forhim, betrayer of young souls, self-appointed warlord, supposed gentleman.
“That man isn’t going to be pleased we are still here,” the usually quiet John observed. “And local authorities can be nasty.”
He was right, of course. Balfour worried for his nephew; who knew what he might do?
Well, she now had a score to settle, and she was about to give Balfour something to truly stew over.
“Robbie.” He jumped to obey. He was slight of height with curling blond hair. “Find the Duke of Winderton and tell him that I have changed my mind. Iaccepthis invitation to the dance this evening.”
Silas stayed Robbie with a hand on his arm. “Are you certain, Kate? That man Balfour will be furious. You are poking a hornet’s nest.”
“Oh, I’m doing more than poking. I’m taking a paddle to it.” She nodded to the wardrobe mistress. “Mary, do we still have that saucy costume?”
“The one with the bold blue stripes?”
“And the cherry bodice. I’ve a mind to wear it this evening.”
A low whistle and a hum of excitement met this announcement from everyone but Silas. “Kate,” he warned.
She rounded on him. “Earlier, you pointed out that my going, especially on the duke’s arm, would be a good advertisement for our performances.”
“In something a bit more circumspect.”
“Oh, no, Silas. The last thing I want is to be circumspect.” She turned to Mary. “As I remember, the bodice is—” She made an imaginary cut line low over her breasts.
“It is.”
“Let’s make it a touch more brazen. We need to school the honorable Mr. Balfour on the danger of threatening Kate Addison.”
“But you need to go easy on the lad,” Silas cautioned, referring to the duke. “He’s smitten, Kate.”
“If anything, my performance this evening will put him off me.”
“I wouldn’t be certain of that,” Nestor responded.
Chapter Four
Once he reached the main road, Bran reined Orion in. His gloved hands shook with anger, while every masculine part of him reacted as if he’d been waiting for Kate to reappear in his life, as if he had somehow known their paths would cross again, and was ready for the chase—something he would not let happen. He was done with her. He’d cut her out of his life once. Pride alone dictated he would not give her any quarter.
