“No, you are using everything you can to worry about your son. He will be fine. Furthermore, I am his guardian, and I am not worried. You have very little say here.” On those words, Bran made his escape.
It was already late morning. An anxious Orion was being walked by a groomsman in front of the house. Bran mounted and set off for Kate.
He couldn’t wait to see her. They needed to talk. He was curious as to why she left. He was also going to discuss with her the danger of walking around alone in the middle of the night. Maidenshop was one of the safest places in England but every woman should be careful, especially one as lovely as his Kate.
HisKate.
The title sang through him.
Given his head, Orion’s hooves gobbled up the distance to the actors’ encampment. Breaking the horse down to a trot, Bran scanned the gathering who were apparently rehearsing. He looked for signs of Kate.
He spied her talking to Christopher. His nephew stood on the stage, his hand resting on one cocked hip as if in deep consideration over whatever they were discussing.
Bran prayed she was telling his titled nephew that she didn’t want to see him any longer. That would make Bran happy.
Then, at that moment, the couple laughed as if highly amused over something that had been said. The jealousy that shot through Bran was an evil thing.
He dismounted and tied Orion next to Winderton’s horse. They nickered at each other and pressed noses.
Bran made his way to the stage. Kate must not have seen him approach because she gave no sign in his direction.
“The next playlet,” she announced, “will be the fox and the lion. Nestor, you play the fox this time since you are already in the costume.”
Christopher noticed Bran first. “It’s Balfour,” he called in greeting. He was in boyishly good humor. No wonder Lucy was suspicious. Bran would be himself if he hadn’t known where Kate had been.
Kate glanced over her shoulder. “Ah, hello, Mr. Balfour.” Her attention returned immediately to her actors. “John, Robbie, stand here. Yes, right there. Otherwise no one will see you.”
And that was it.Hello, Mr. Balfour.No other greeting? No running into his arms? Not even a flirtatious wink?
Bran found himself watching the rehearsal with his nephew. Winderton was full of tidbits on acting. “We were talking about the staging of the play when they reach London,” the duke said with great self-importance. “Certainly what they have now for set pieces won’t make any impression.”
That was true.
“I told her about the last play I saw. They actually had what looked like a full-size military frigate on the stage. Miss Addison is concerned about how she will afford set pieces that won’t make them look provincial.”
“For the play she is doing now?”
“Actually, the play to be performed in London will beThe Tempest.She believes she needs the Bard to establish herself.”
So, there would be a storm and a magic forest.
During the afternoon performance, Bran found ideas floating in his head for ways he could use his understanding of mechanics and architecture to create those scenes. The set pieces needed to be both economical and yet able to engage an audience on a grand scale.
At last his patience in waiting for Kate paid off when he managed a moment alone with her. He caught her as she was leaving the women’s tent. She reached for his hand, clasping it tight. He leaned his head toward hers. “We should tell Winderton about us.”
Her troubled gaze met his. “And then what will happen?”
“He will be upset but he is young. He will recover.”
“Or we shall be run out of the country and, I have no doubt, there will be a disastrous scene between the two of you.”
She was right.
Kate faced him. “I would not have you thrown out of your living quarters because of me. What is between us is too new, too fresh. Perhaps it would be wiser for us to keep ourselves secret until we understand exactly what we are about.”
He knew what he was about—he wanted Kate. It was that simple... or was it?
At that moment, Reverend Summerall came driving up with a vicar from a neighboring church and their wives. Kate had to greet them. The reverend wished to expound upon the religious principles ofAesop’s Fables. She smiled at the clergymen. “One moment please,” she said before glancing back to Bran. “We shall discuss your offer later, Mr. Balfour.” She acted as if they had the barest of acquaintances, and yet, there was a warmth in her eyes that held a promise.
