“That is a pity. I remember her as someone very special.”
“That green girl doesn’t exist anymore, Mr. Balfour. She is gone and I have no regrets leaving her behind.”
He thought back to those days years ago when he’d lived for a glimpse of her either on stage or after a performance. She’d been vibrant with life. He had wanted to possess that quality that made her uniquely who she was.
“However,” she said softly, “I am happy for this conversation. It made a difference. I didn’t like hating you. And now, good night. Tomorrow I have to tell the troupe we have no money, and no prospects. It will be a very busy day.” She didn’t wait for his answer to start moving toward the tents.
He watched her go, wishing he could call her back, knowing there was nothing she could want from him—but then she stopped, glanced back at him and in a voice so quiet he could believe he’d imagined it, she said, “I thought I was in love with you, too, Brandon. I did.”
And then, after that stunning admission, she hurried away.
It was over... before it could ever be, and he knew he’d lost someone valuable.
Bran moved through the woods toward the Dower House. He’d forgotten his nephew. Jealousy had driven him to seek out Kate and now, in its place was—what?
He didn’t know.
She had believed herself in love with him...andshe’d believed that he had been capable of betraying her in the vilest manner possible.
Well, his logic demanded he face the truth. What he’d shared with Kate all those years ago had been lust. Pure and simple. His overactive imagination had believed it something deeper and more meaningful. He’d been young and naïve. She’d been his first grand passion. Of course he would romanticize it.
Except, he’d never felt the same way about any other woman.
When at last he found his bed, his mind was exhausted and though he finally slept he didn’t wake rested. The only way he would find any ease, he realized, would be to get Kate and her troupe to move on—far away. He had failed her years ago. Now, he owed her some restitution—and one that would not only ensure her future but safely steer Winderton away from her as well.
To that end, shortly after dawn, he dressed and went down to the stables. He instructed the stable manager to take Smythson’s best wagon and deliver it to Kate. “Tell her it is a gift.” He handed the man a note he’d written instructing Kate to accept this wagon and go live her dream. He felt quite noble for the gesture.
An hour later, the apologetic stable manager returned. “The lad did as you instructed, sir. The lady would not accept the wagon. She sent it back with a note of her own.”
It was not sealed but folded neatly. Bran waved the man away, sat at his desk, and unfolded the missive. In a feminine hand, she’d written,On my own terms.
He stared at the words for a long time, aware that her response was exactly what he would have replied.
Chapter Nine
Old Andy had outdone himself on the rook pies. There were five large pies, each with a pastry crust that would have put London cooks to shame. They were cooling on a table that had been set out under the trees outside The Garland.
Bran discovered quite a crowd of gentlemen gathered for the Logical Men’s Society lecture. Perhaps Ned was right and their tidy village community was ready for scientific stimulation.
Or they might have come for the free ale and pie.
In truth, Bran had almost forgotten he had promised Thurlowe that he would be in attendance. Fortunately, Mars came by to see if Bran wanted to accompany him, and he agreed, eager to do anything to take his mind off of Kate—headstrong, uncompromising Kate.
From the moment he’d received her terse reply, his thoughts had turned dark. First, there had been the sting of losing the bridge commission—and then she had walked back into his life. He needed a diversion, even if it was an academic expounding on rocks.
His sense of peace was short-lived. While riding the distance to the village, Mars, with a studied casualness, said, “Your nephew was at The Garland last night after the dance. He almost finished the keg himself.”
So. That was where Christopher had been instead of saying farewell to the revelers or in Kate’s bed. Bran was both relieved and unsurprised. Kate could drive any man to drink. That was certainly what she was doing to him.
He kept his thoughts to himself, however, and instead grunted as if the duke’s whereabouts were of no importance to him. As if he hadn’t charged through the night to be certain Christopher hadn’t been with Kate. As if, as if, as if...
“He hasn’t given up on his actress,” Mars continued. “When I mentioned I might have a go at her, he was ready to put his hands around my throat—”
“Stay awayfrom her.” The words had shot out of Bran before he could question their wisdom.
Startled, Mars’s mount took a hop step to the side. Bran kept Orion moving forward.
With a quick trot, Mars caught up with him. There was a beat of silence. Bran wanted to pretend he hadn’t spoken.
