“She is.”
“You poor sod.” Mars kicked the horse into a gallop and they didn’t speak even after they reached Smythson’s stables.
Chapter Seventeen
Kate was wearing a riding habit when Bran returned to the tents with a horse for her. The dress was well cut, stylish, and appeared molded to her. Her favorite velvet cap was set at a rakish angle.
She did not greet him as he rode up on Orion. He held the reins to a smooth-trotting gray mare. From the edge of the stage, she took the reins and easily mounted sidesaddle as if she’d done it hundreds of times and required no assistance from him.
“You have a good seat,” Bran said approvingly as a way to fill the silence. He was aware that her actors watched him with disapproval. Silas had his arms crossed while Nestor appeared ready to leap on Bran if he did anything untoward. Even Mary and the always silent John appeared frustrated that they could not go with them to protect Kate... from him?
Bran wasn’t certain.
With a quick command, Kate set her horse forward. Orion immediately fell in without waiting for Bran. Apparently the stubborn gelding had decided she was the better person to follow.
Kate had fine control of the mare, which didn’t give her any problems.
She was also studiously ignoring him. Bran let them ride past the line of oaks and up the road a bit before he said, “Do you have a plan for where we are going?”
“To Gretna, I assume.” She bit the words out as if annoyed she had to speak to him. “It seems the likeliest possibility, and we really have little more to go on.”
Since she was riding toward the Northern Road, which was exactly the route he had expected to take, he let her lead. Orion seemed perfectly happy to follow the gray and Bran asked himself exactly what had he said earlier?
And he remembered.
He’d declared he owned Smythson, the secret his sister had begged him to guard. Considering Mrs. Warbler heard everything that was said, the information had probably been tacked up on St. Martyr’s door by now.
He’d informed Kate she had chosen the wrong man, that if she’d been more clever, she could have had him. He’d declared himself to her. He’d even said he loved her.
Bran had never felt so exposed in his life.
He’d said it out loud, in front of everyone. Words he had never spoken to Kate in private.
He’d even admitted he had been ready to give her all that he owned. He’d actually accused her of being a common fortune hunter, something he had actually once believed of her when she’d stayed with Hemling.
And he knew her well enough to understand that his words had been insulting to her.
Almost as insulting as his unbridled jealousy.
He had no excuse.
They reached the main road. She turned the mare north and he followed. It was a good piece of road and easy to ride side by side, except the stiffness in her back and the set of her shoulders said she was not ready for conversation.
They had ridden almost an hour before he attempted to bridge the divide between them. “Winderton sent a note saying he was eloping with an actress.”
His comment was met with mute stoniness. Even the set of her jaw was hard.
“Kate?” It took courage to prod her. He’d been an ass.
“He did ask me. I said no. So he must have thrown himself on Jess, or perhaps she threw herself on him. Either way, I was never going to leave with him.”
Of course she wouldn’t. Bran knew that. Kate had never been interested in his nephew.
In fact, a part of him—the part of his brain that still had some common sense—had rejected the claim immediately...
“I’m sorry. I think I went a bit mad when I read his letter and after I learned you had not performed this afternoon.” There. He’d said it, and he felt naked in front of her.
She gave no reaction. Not even a sidelong glance.
