“I loved her.” The young man’s words hung in the air.
Bran met his eye. “I can understand why. And now, I’m going to leave. I’m tired—”
“I imagine so after what I saw—”
In one single beat, Bran’s hand shot out and closed around the duke’s shirt front. He dragged his nephew forward. “You willnothurt Kate and you will saynothingof what you saw to anyone. If you do, Winderton, then I will wash my hands of you and expose all the secrets that your mother has so carefully guarded.”
To his credit, Winderton didn’t back down. “I love her. Can you say the same?”
Bran released his hold. He took a step back, and then walked away without looking back.
However, at the Dower House, he found himself irritable over the confrontation. He should have gone to bed, but his mind would not turn off.
In truth, Bran had no regrets over informing Christopher of his inheritance. For too long the lad had been kept in the dark. Well, now he knew the truth of things and if he had any pride at all, he’d be rightly humbled.
And the duke wasn’t wrong in asking what Bran’s intentions were toward Kate.
He wondered about them himself. What did he want? What did she expect of him?
He found a bowl of apples in the kitchen next to yesterday’s leftover buns. He munched on a piece of fruit as he walked toward the front room. The candlesticks were still on the table where he’d done his drawings, right where they had left them the night before.
He thought of Kate sitting on the table wearing nothing but his shirt. He could offer her everything her heart desired—and she’d throw it in his face.
Unless he offered marriage? For the first time, Bran wondered what would happen if he married an actress?
Lucy would scream. He could live with that.
He’d lose his membership in the Logical Men’s Society, although he believed Mars and Thurlowe would wish him well. He could still turn up at The Garland for pints of ale when the mood struck him or for the lectures of scientific interest Ned was determined to arrange for the village. Actually, he was beginning to think the premise behind the Society was faulty. Standing in the middle of an empty house, he realized hewantedKate in his life.
If he married her, not only was he honoring her with his name, he’d have her forever.
Forever.The word pleased him. They had already wasted fifteen years—and he didn’t wish to waste any more.
The sound of a horse and carriage interrupted his thoughts. He looked outside and saw the brougham pull up with Lucy inside. She was dressed in her black and purple. The liveried driver jumped down to open the door for her.
Bran crossed to the front door to open it. Before he could reach for the handle, the door flew open. Lucy stormed in, her arms pumping with her fury. “You told him. You shouldnothave told him.”
Bran had no doubt about who “him” was. “Come in, Your Grace. Would you like something to drink?”
His sister’s eyes appeared ready to skewer him for his insolence. “I wantnothingto drink. I wantanswers. Why did you tell him without consulting me?”
“Are you talking about the state of his affairs? Or my liaison with Miss Addison?”
Lucy went rigid. Her head circled in the air as if she was ready to swoon. She found her grounding. “Liaison?” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to know what you do with that harlot—”
“Careful. I will not have you speak ill of her.”
“How can you defend her? She broke my son’s heart.”
“She didn’t encourage him. I watched her. She was circumspect. He encouraged himself.” Bran stopped, puzzled. “Wait, Lucy, I thought you wanted your son away from her?”
“I did not want himrejected.”
“You aren’t making sense. Dear God, I could use a drink.”
“Winderton wants you to leave. He has ordered it.”
That was beyond enough. “I’m not leaving, Lucy.”
