Page 10 of What the Heart Knows

Kit and his companions ignored the jangling of the shop bell.

When she raised her head, her gaze was steady and serious. “I’ve frequently suggested to Brewster that he stop spreading these nonsensical stories. Wanting to improve Fenwick’s all well and good. However, my father believes the proposed changes will go too far and destroy the charm of our village.”

“Do you agree with him?” Kit asked her.

“I do not involve myself in such matters, sir.”

“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.”