Mrs. Warbler moved her chair closer. “His wife died. Very sad.”
Brandon had beenmarried?
For a second, Kate’s mind froze. All earlier charitable thoughts vanished.
Had he been married when she’d known him? Or had he gone on to marry?
And why hadn’t he said something? He could have spoken up the other night. He didn’t.
“The duchess tries to do what she can for him,” Mrs. Warbler was saying. “All the matrons have been thinking of suitable parties for him to wed. I mean, the nonsense of the Logical Men’s Society aside, men need to be married. Don’t you agree?”
The earl and Brandon finished their conversation. Marsden untied his mount and rode away. Brandon started down the road. On foot.
Married?
Kate had a sudden need to talk to him.
She came to her feet. “This has all been very nice, Mrs. Warbler. Unfortunately, I must take my leave.”
“Oh, yes, you have a performance this afternoon.”
“Exactly. Thank you for your hospitality.” Kate hurried as quickly as she dared for the door. She picked up her green velvet cap off of a side table. It was a stylish chapeau that she had made herself from a description someone had given her of what they were wearing in London.
“Janie will see you out,” Mrs. Warbler offered.
“Not necessary.” Kate set her hat on her head at an angle and opened the door herself. “Thank you very much.”
“No, thank you. This has been the nicest visit.”
Kate started to leave but noticed two aged gents leaving The Garland. She looked back to her hostess. “Is one of those Sir Lionel?”
“Yes, the one on the right.”
The man appeared ready to fall on his face from drink. His friend held him up, or perhaps they were holding each other up. He was not the sort Kate would want. Mrs. Warbler was welcome to him. “Good day,” she said in a quiet voice and slipped out the door.
At Mrs. Warbler’s gate, she looked up and down the road. Brandon was walking with a long, purposeful stride toward the sprawling buildings of the wainwright. What business could he have there? Unless he was prying into hers?
Since she’d rejected his gift of a wagon, perhaps he wanted to hurry the repairs on her vehicle, a thought that she found surprisingly hurtful. Just as it had bothered her that he had not attended any other of her performances.
And the idea that he’d married—and had not said a word to her?
Kate set out after him.
Chapter Eleven
Earlier, on Bran’s way into the village, Orion had thrown a shoe. Rather than wait until he returned to Smythson’s stables, Bran had chosen to spend time over a pint at The Garland and have Fred Burnham, the smithy, shoe his horse.
His decision would annoy Jim, the Smythson stable manager. The man was picky about how the horses’ feet were done. His suggestion would have been for Bran to return to the estate. However, Bran never felt comfortable riding his horse shoeless, even for a short distance. Orion was temperamental enough when all things were good.
Unfortunately, when Bran returned to the smithy, Fred hadn’t had a moment to see to Orion yet. “Had to do a plow for Squire Nelson. I could have one of my lads shoe your horse, but I know how partial you are to the animal. I’ll see to it right now.”
“Thank you,” Bran said, because what else could he say? Both plow and horse must be done.
He could wander back to The Garland, but truth be known, he was done drinking. He’d been indulging too much over the past several days. He thought about what Mars had told him in front of The Garland: the commission for the bridge was supposedly still in play, and that he should return to Town to personally see how the wind was blowing.
But ever since Kate’s performance, he hadn’t given a damn about the bridge.
No, instead he’d spent his waking moments trying to not think about her while also keeping tabs on everything she was doing, which was easily done since every servant at Smythson along with everyone in the village had attended one of her performances. Even Andy had pulled himself away from the tavern to attend.
