Bran continued. “Be warned, you are close to receiving your inheritance and the fullness of your birthright—ifyou have my approval.” There had been at least that caveat in the father’s will. “I will not be turning anything over to you if I fear you would do something that would be considered stupid.”
That knocked Winderton out of his smug complacency. “Is beingin lovestupid? Is wishing to choose a helpmate and settling in to take care ofmy landsandmy peoplestupid?”
Ah, yes, Kate had made a conquest.
“You have much to learn about the world,” Bran replied. “She might not want you! Anyway, you don’t want to be tied down too soon.”
“Says the man who enjoys being a bachelor. I’m not like you, Uncle. I want Kate and I will have her.”
They were more alike than Winderton thought, but Bran kept his own counsel on that matter. This was tricky business. Christopher was determined to see Kate as an angel. There was also something in his nephew’s voice toward him that Bran had never heard before—mistrust.
They were almost to the front gate. Bran brought Orion to a halt, realizing it might be wise to leave well enough alone. He’d planted the seed. Now let it flourish. “Your choices don’t have to be mine, Chris. I’ve never set that yoke upon your shoulders. Beware of making promises, especially to women. They are wilier than men.” Especially when a title and promise of a fortune were involved.
“I don’t believe Miss Addison has an evil bone in her body. And the world is changing, Uncle. We modern men like women with lively minds.”
“So you say. My observation is that the world is full of marriages that should have been avoided.”
Bran looked in the direction of the house where he knew Lucy waited for a report. He’d said enough. Pushing the matter would only make it worse... especially if Kate told him that Bran had ordered her to leave, and she would. Extracting Christopher from her called for a delicate balance.
Making a show of shaking his head as if he was coming to his senses, Bran said, “Then again, you might be right. Still, remember that your mother and I care for you very much. Your well-being is important to us.”
Gracelessly, the duke answered, “Provided I do as you say.”
Bran wanted to bark back. It took willpower to hold his tongue.
At his uncle’s silence, Winderton finally said, “You needn’t worry. I know what I’m doing. I know what Iwantto do.” On those words, he rode off with a wave.
Bran knew the interview with Lucy would not go half as well.
Chapter Five
As Bran had predicted, Lucy had not been pleased with his report that he’d given the actress until the morrow to leave. She’d wanted Kate chased out of the village with pitchforks and tar immediately.
Since that wasn’t going to happen, she’d exacted a penance—he should be her escort to the dance. “His Grace has warned me he will be attending with friends,” she’d said. “I will not go alone.”
Bran decided to be agreeable and do as his sister wished. So he took her to the dance.
The duke had joined with them for an early dinner before taking himself off to meet his friends at The Garland. There was usually a good group of young men who drank Old Andy’s ale before rolling over to St. Martyr’s barn where the dance was held.
Bran wished he could have excused himself and gone with his nephew—however he doubted if Christopher would have welcomed his company. Over dinner, his ward had been deliberately quiet around him. Bran decided to let him be.
Besides, after several hours’ sleep, Bran had regained his perspective. A duke needed his pride. He could tolerate Christopher’s sulking.
The decorations committee had outdone themselves. The old barn was lit up as if it was Vauxhall. Paper lanterns were strung from one end of the interior to the other, giving the barn’s whitewashed walls a festive air. The bouquets of spring flowers Bran had spied the ladies carrying in earlier were on tables and around the punch bowl.
A trio of musicians sat on one end of the long room playing their hearts out for the enthusiastic dancers in front of them. Elsewhere were tables and chairs for those who didn’t wish to stand. Friends and relatives from other villages and counties attended so the whole event had the air of a well-regarded “crush,” that description of any gathering where people had to bump into each other to move.
Everyone hailed Bran as if he was some sort of long-lost prodigal. Questions were asked about why he’d stayed in London for so long. He was bemused by the way people in Maidenshop believed that their little village was the privileged center of the universe in the same way Londoners were quite certain they were the gifted ones.
However, it was good to be in the midst of everyone.
Mars was on the dance floor with one of Squire Nelson’s pretty daughters. He came dancing over with his partner and brought her to a halt. While Miss Nelson curtsied, Mars bowed and said to Lucy, “Good evening, Your Grace. I hope I have the honor of escorting you on the dance floor this evening.”
Lucy actually blushed. Still, she answered haughtily, “You are outrageous, Marsden. Can’t you see I am still in mourning?”
Bran frowned his apologies to his friend over his sister’s rudeness, however the earl laughed off her querulousness. “We should all be so honored to have a wife who mourned us for years after our death. My mother was happy to see my father go.”
“I’d mourn for you,” Miss Nelson said pertly.
