Chapter Three #2
“The squire rightly believes that idiotic faery tales about love and magic water can serve no good purpose,” Brookbank’s supercilious tone issued from the shop entry.
“Anyone attracted by such nonsense isn’t someone we wish to see here.
” He shouldered his way into their group beside Miss Fenneman.
“Your father worries for your safety and requests I escort you home.” He took her arm and began to lead her away.
Miss Fenneman stood her ground, forcing the clerk to stumble to a halt.
“You are right to follow your employer’s orders.
” She looked down her nose at the man who was at least a hand taller than she.
“However, your execution of your commission is ill-mannered. Return to Father alone and assure him of my well-being. Or wait for me, outside, as appropriate for any servant I didn’t specifically instruct to bear me company. ”
Brookbank glared at her.
Unspoken animosity sizzled in the air between clerk and lady.
Kit shifted to the balls of his feet. His muscles tightened. Surely the cur would not attack a lady. Especially when that lady was his employer’s daughter. Oddly, it pleased Kit mightily that Miss Fenneman and the squire’s clerk were clearly not friends.
Beside him, George came alert, poised for action.
“I remind you, Miss Fenneman…” Ice coated Brookbank’s words. “I am your equal in rank, in every way that matters and act in your father’s place. I insist you come with me now.”
“What your antecedents may be, are irrelevant, sir. You are my father’s employee. As his daughter, I may give you orders with his voice.”
“I warn you…” Brookbank reached for her arm once more.
Kit blocked the action with his body.
“Now, now,” Beuth stepped between the two men, forcing them apart and facing Brookbank. “I’m certain we can resolve this peaceably.” The shopkeeper moved forward.
The clerk took one backward step.
“Brookbank, you remember George Brewster.” Beuth gestured at George.
The clerk sniffed.
“This other gentleman…” Beuth looked at Kit. “Is George’s employer. I’m certain Squire Fenneman’d trust George with his daughter’s life, so the same’s true of Mr. Copefort, who I understand is a retired military man.”
Nostrils flaring, Brookbank cast a quick glance at Kit. Then his brows rose, and he locked gazes. “Copefort…would that be Captain Breakneck Copefort?”
“That Captain Copefort?” Meg’s voice was hushed, but Kit still heard.
“I am retired. The war’s over. Whatever happened then is behind us.”
“Hardly, sir.” Brookbank’s teeth gleamed in a snide grin. “Your exploits on the battlefield rival Nelson’s at sea. I believe you accounted for more dead and wounded Frenchmen than anyone in your regiment. A few paltry local tales cannot possibly compare with a man of your legendary… er… notoriety.”
“I am unmoved by your flattery.” Turning his shoulder to Brookbank, Kit faced Miss Fenneman. “Suffice to say, you’re perfectly safe with my escort.”
“I will return to your father with that good news, Miss Fenneman.” Brookbank executed a courtly bow, even extending a leg as he lowered his head. “However, I must say he expressed an urgent need to discuss personal matters with you.”
“I’ll follow as soon as I finish here.”
“Then I bid you adieu. Farewell Captain, Mr. Beuth, Brewster.” With a stroke of his hat through the air, Brookbank swept from the room.
“I’ll conclude my purchases, now, Mr. Beuth,” Meg said. “If you will excuse me, Captain, George.”
“Copefort, please, or better yet, Kit,” he said.
Meg’s brows rose once more. “Despite our recent encounters, Mr. Copefort, I hardly think we should suspend the proprieties.”
“Certainly, Miss Fenneman. My apologies. I’ve no idea what I was thinking.”
“Perhaps you weren’t.” A sly smile claimed her face. “Thinking, that is.”
Kit grinned. “Precisely. George, will you ready our horses? We promised to see Miss Fenneman home.”
“Aye sir.” George left.
Meg completed her business with Beuth and turned to Kit as the shopkeeper wrapped her parcels.
“You needn’t accompany me, Mr. Copefort.”
“Oh, but I want to, Miss Fenneman. I’ve heard much about you and your father, since arriving. I understand your father also served during the war. I’d be honored to meet him and perhaps compare battlefield experiences.”
She sighed. “I cannot prevent you from riding with me, and I’ll happily introduce you to Father. However, I warn you, talking of the war upsets him greatly, so I beg you will not pursue that topic.”
“As you wish, Miss Fenneman. I empathize with the desire to forget the war. ’Tis the reason I choose to present myself as plain Mr. Copefort.”
“Thank you for understanding. Would you mind helping me take these parcels to my mare?”
As they secured the last of her packages, George arrived with Kit’s gray gelding and his own horse.
Once mounted, Kit paced in silence beside Miss Fenneman, while George fell back.
“Mr. Copefort, did I hear Mr. Beuth offer to create for you a list of available properties?”
“He did.”
“I know most of Fenwick’s surroundings well. Once you’ve seen the estates, I’d be happy to discuss those which interest you.”