Page 11 of What the Heart Knows

“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.”

“That’s most kind of you, Miss Fenneman. I’ll certainly take you up on the offer.”

Another silence stretched.

“I like to fish as well,” she announced

“So, I gathered,” Kit responded. “Your defense of Trout Creek was spirited and clearly voiced from experience.”

“D’you think you might attempt to capture the Wishing Trout?”

“I expect I’ll be at Trout Creek as early as possible on the next fine morning.”

She grinned. “I agree, morning’s the best time for a good catch. Perhaps I shall see you there.”

“Perhaps. Tell me about your home.”

“Sea Grange? The house has been in my family for centuries.” She went on at length about the origin, structure and history of the estate.

“You speak with a great deal of affection for Sea Grange.”

“I do.” She lifted her head, looking at him briefly before attending to her horse. “My mother passed away when I was ten. Father, whose business affairs are extensive, was often from home, and joined the Commissariat Corps shortly after Mother died. On his instruction, I was taught not only the skills every gently born woman needs but also how to manage and run the property. I never understood why he did not entrust that work to Brookbank. Nonetheless, I am grateful for the knowledge and experience.”

“You know animal husbandry and understand how to plant crops?”

“Yes.” Another grin chased across her face.

“All that, and you like to fish but don’t believe in fairy tales. You are a most unusual lady.” And more fascinating than I could have imagined.

“Thank you. I take that as a compliment.”