Could Winderton be that crass? If he attempted to harm Kate in any way, Bran would kill him.
Nor did it help that old doubts resurfaced. It had taken him a month to leave London and she’d stayed with Hemling the whole time and longer, by her own admission.
The woman he loved.Winderton had only loved Kate.
“His Grace took two horses from the stables,” Lucy said. “He told the stable lads to saddle Lolly because the lady who would be using her was not accustomed to hard riding. And then he set off in the direction of the actors.”
“When was this?”
“Four hours ago.”
Four hours? “What time is it?”
“Half past two.”
Bran could catch them. “It isn’t Kate with him. She wants to go to London.”
“As a duchess, which is what she’ll be if they marry, she may go wherever she wishes.”
Her statement brought him up short. Jealousy was an ugly emotion. Bran didn’t want to feel it, and yet it was there.
Kate couldn’t have chosen to go with Winderton. Bran refused to believe it—which meant she could be in trouble.
He sat up and reached for his breeches, the sheet across his lap. “You may wish to turn around.”
Seeing he was about to stand, his sister gave a squeak and quickly stepped out into the hall. She half closed the door, her back to it, so that she could speak to him. “I warned you that my son was going to do something irrational.”
“None of it makes sense,” he muttered.
“It does. He’s run away with that actress. She’s agreed to go. Why did you tell him the truth?Why?”
BecauseWindertonwas not a bloody child,he wanted to retort. Instead, he swore under his breath and buttoned his breeches. In fact, in all of Winderton’s complaints this morning, the one issue he was right about was that his uncle and mother should have been more honest with him. “When did you last see Winderton?”
“Shortly before I confronted you this morning. I went searching for him around eleven. I was worried. He was so quiet. He wouldn’t talk to me when I tried to discuss the matter civilly after speaking to you. He wouldn’t even open the door to his rooms.”
There was probably no “civilly” about what she had to say. “Well, Miss Addison is on the stage at this moment. So, if you are right and she has run off with him, he is still at her theater.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“I know Kate. She won’t miss a performance.”
“Men are such goats. They think they know everything.” She threw this out in disgust while giving him an evil eye through the crack in the door.
Bran’s response was to shut the door. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
She stomped down the hall and Bran took a deep breath. Kate wouldn’t have left with Winderton. She wouldn’t, unless the duke forced her.
Or she had been playing both Bran and the duke, an evil voice inside of him whispered.
If she had been, then Lucy was right—would such a woman turn down being a duchess?
Within the half hour, the dowager and Bran were on their way to the actors’ encampment. Lucy, who rarely drove herself anywhere, was so upset she drove them both in her gig.
They arrived just as the play was coming to an end. They had heard the cheer of the crowd from the distance and now people were milling around.
Sitting in the gig, Bran scanned those gathered around the stage for a sign of Kate and Winderton.
Since Lucy’s first crazed charges that had inspired his doubts, he’d managed to regain his perspective. Kate would not have eloped with Christopher. It defied common sense.
