Chapter Eleven
Queen’s Barque Inn, Night of the new moon
Brewster greeted Kit with the news that Miss Fenneman had arrived safely more than an hour past. At present the lady was making herself comfortable in one of the inn’s rooms. “If you gentlemen will go up to your chambers, I’ll inform Miss Fenneman that you are here and would like to see her.”
Kit didn’t like it, but he could hardly go charging into Meg’s chamber to reassure himself of her well-being.
Reluctantly he followed Reid to their private parlor. Kit sat, fidgeting impatiently until the longed-for knock came on his door. He leapt up.
“Sit down man and let your valet do his job. Your impatience is embarrassing.”
George performed that office before Reid stopped speaking.
At last, the love of Kit’s life stood before him.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wore the same fetching blue dress as the day they first kissed. Delight sparked from the gold in her eyes. Her berried lips opened in a smile.
“Sometimes I wonder how you survived a war, cousin.” Reid stood, grabbed Kit’s arm, and yanked him upward.
Kit stumbled upright, then bowed, when what he really wanted was to hold Meg close and never let go. “Good morning, Miss Fenneman.”
She laughed. A long, glorious trill of happiness.
All the worry, fear, despair, anxiety emptied from Kit’s heart. Joy and his love’s light filled that vessel and every hollow in his body.
“Please come in and join us, Miss Fenneman,” Reid said. “Obviously my cousin has swallowed his tongue.”
“Thank you.” She moved into the room.
Reid approached to help her sit, but Kit shoved him away. “Allow me, Miss Fenneman.”
“Certainly, Mr. Copefort. I see you have recovered your lingual feature.”
“Only because of you,” he murmured.
Introductions, reports and explanations ensued. The squire now resided in the Queen’s Barque root cellar. His fate remained undecided. Reid insisted Miss Fenneman remain at the inn. With Brookbank at large, she should not be alone at Sea Grange.
Kit ground his teeth as Reid made a courtly bow and kissed the air over Meg’s hand.
Reid guided her to a seat, adroitly maneuvering to sit beside her, forcing Kit to sit opposite. “Perhaps you could tell us how you escaped?” Reid asked. “We have some idea, however details are always useful.”
She related the events from the moment of Brookbank locking her in her rooms to arriving at the Queen’s Barque.
“You are a remarkably clever and brave young woman,” Reid said.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Reid, please.” He took her hand and cast a sly glance at Kit. “I suspect we shall soon be more than friends.”
“Possibly.” She grinned. “You must call me Meg.”
“Certainly.”
“I thank you both for your care of me and your service to Fenwick on Sea.”
“Think nothing of it,” Reid replied.
“’Twas the least I could do.” Kit wanted to say so much more.
“My lord, I wish to make a plea on behalf of my father.”
Reid raised a brow.
“His crimes are serious, Miss Fenneman, he cannot go unpunished.”
“I would never ask that. I do hope I can persuade you to sue the Crown for some clemency and perhaps exile Father. He has some property in the West Indies where he could live.”
“Is the property in English territory?”
“No, French I believe.”
“I cannot promise anything. However, I shall see what can be done. I’ve some documents which might help.”
“I shall add my support for clemency in whatever way my cousin suggests,” Kit said.
“I’ll let you know, Kit, what will be needed.” Reid stood. “Now if you will excuse me. I must see the dragoons’ commanding officer and organize pursuit of Brookbank.”
“I am delighted to have met you, Reid.” Meg held out her hand.
Reid bowed over it then left.
Kit stood, crossing to the open doorway.
Meg remained in her chair near the fire.
“Shall I ring for your maid, Meg?”
“No,” she said, rising. “I don’t require Amanda’s assistance.”
“Bu…but, I would like to sit and talk with you a while. For us to be alone together is improper.”
Meg stepped close to him, placing her hands on his arms. “I like that you want to be with me. I find that I want to be improper with you.”
His hands grasped her waist. “How improper?”
“Very much.” She replied gazing up at him.
“Enough to marry a half-pay officer with some modest prospects and no home of his own?”
“I would marry you regardless of prospects and no pay.” She rose on tiptoe. Her arms circled his neck and pulled him to her.
The kiss was all he remembered. Knowing they’d marry made possessing her mouth all the sweeter.
“Ahem…”
They broke apart, facing the door he’d forgotten to close.
Mrs. Brewster filled the doorway, a bundle of white cloth in her arms. “Seems that silly maid of yours, Miss Fenneman failed to bring you a night rail and robe. So, I brought one from my oldest daughter, as she doesn’t need it. Told me she’d like you to have it.”
The image of Meg draped in thin white linen heated Kit’s neck and hardened a few other parts. I should be ashamed of myself. We aren’t wed yet.
“I thank you and your daughter very much, Mrs. Brewster. I’ll treasure this as my first wedding gift.”
“Married?” The older woman’s eyes went wide. “How? With all that’s happened recently, when did you have time?”
“My fiancée’s getting a bit ahead of herself,” Kit stated. “I’ve just now asked for her hand and been accepted. You may wish us well, nonetheless.”
“I’m sure I do. Oh, how delightful. Fenwick will have another wedding. I must tell Brewster so we can start preparations.” She trundled to the stairs and down, burbling all the way.
“Meg, my love.” Kit closed the door and locked it. “Shall we continue being improper together?”
“By all means. Do you think your cousin will be very long talking to the dragoons?”
“I suspect he will be well occupied for most of the day.”
“Then perhaps you could help me with my dress. I cannot reach the buttons by myself.”
***