Her words went right through him.
Stunned, he repeated, “Hate me?”He’d done nothing to her this evening. It was he who should hate her—and then he realized she’d said “that night.”
Not tonight.Thatnight.
He went still.
“Itrustedyou,” she continued, the intensity of her emotions almost forcing him to take a step back. “I will never forgive you for what you did.”
“WhatIdid?” He was confused. He had been the wronged party. She’d jilted him.
As if seeing his confusion, she threw out a clue. “The Marquis of Hemling.”
“Your former lover?” The words tasted bitter.
“Don’tever call him that. He was not my lover. He is a hideous man.” She moved to the very edge of the road.
“That is not what I heard—”
“Heforcedme.”
Her hard-bitten words startled him. He couldn’t have understood her correctly.
His confusion charged her anger. Ruthlessly, she said, “He tried to take everything from me for something as ridiculous as a wager. Did you know there were bets made on what man would claim me? Did you know that, Brandon?”
He had. Wagers had been placed in the betting books of every club. The reason men were flocking to her. The one who won her would pocket a tidy sum. It was not an uncommon wager on actresses. Men enjoyed a hunt.
“The question I have, Mr. Balfour, is how much did he pay you to betray me?”
“He? Pay me?” Bran’s stomach hollowed. What the devil was she accusing him of?
“Don’t pretend you weren’t part of his plan.”
“I didn’t know anything about a plan.”
“Youwrote a note to me asking to see me. He was about to kidnap me because I thought I was seeing you. My guard was down—”
“There you are,” Christopher’s voice called, interrupting them. He must have spied her on the road from the front step of the barn hall, which would not be hard to do with Miss Addison’s outrageous stripes. “I’m coming.” He bounded up the road toward her, a young rabbit with long legs and energy. “I was worried that you were caught up...” His step slowed as he saw she was not alone. He came to a halt, looking from Kate to Bran, and not happy to see them together. “Uncle.”
Bran nodded, his mind racing over Kate’s accusation. He’d not written a note. Not to Kate that night, or any night—
“You should return to the hall,” the duke said, speaking directly to Bran, a new hardness in his voice. “The reverend has given everyone a lecture. Mrs. Warbler is still hysterical. People are starting to leave. Mother is looking for you.”
Then, as if his order would be obeyed, he focused on Kate, his voice gentler. He moved toward her, his arms out. “I was beside myself when I couldn’t find you. I feared the worst.”
Mercurial creature that she was, Kate changed in a blink from avenging goddess to misunderstood actress. “It was frightening.” She actually sounded meek. “I didn’t know what to do. I escaped out of a side passage and then I discovered your uncle wandering around. He helped me to the road.”
Some of the tension left Christopher, but not the distrust. Young men without the seasoning of life could be proprietorial. They thought they controlled the women who attracted them. The duke had staked a claim and the side glance he shot at Bran said he would fight to defend it.
“May we go?” Kate asked. She reached out and tapped his arm for his attention. “This has been an upsetting evening.”
“I’m sorry. This has never happened before. Please, I’ll see you home.” The duke, all gallant and solicitous, offered his arm. She took it and just that simply, he was conquered. He even held her steady as Kate suffered to put on her green shoes.
Meanwhile, Bran could only watch. And he felt silly holding a shepherd’s crook. He thrust it forward. “Here. You don’t want to leave this behind.”
“Why, thank you,” Kate said. She sounded serene, calm—as if he had imagined the revelations of the last fifteen minutes.
Winderton was the one who took the crook.
