Page 19 of What the Heart Knows

“I do recall saying something to that effect when we met at Mr. Beuth’s shop.”

“I find your aversion to mythic nonsense comforting, Miss Fenneman, as I share that preference.”

“Really?”

“Indeed, this shared aversion leads me to believe we might share other interests in common. I am encouraged to ask if perhaps you, and your maid of course, would enjoy driving out with me on my next visits to the properties we’ve discussed?”

“I am flattered you asked, Mr. Copefort, and I gladly…”

“Asked what, Daughter?”

Kit followed her gaze to the figure standing in the doorway.

“Welcome home, Father.” Miss Fenneman stood and went to him, taking his hands. She cast a glance behind him. “Where’re your guest and Mr. Brookbank?”

Kit stood as well, turning to face the blackguard approaching with his daughter.

“Our guest found himself indisposed and has gone immediately to his chambers. I expect him to recover in time for supper, at which time I’ll introduce you to your fiancé. Brookbank’s seeing to some errands in Fenwick. Now what’s this about flattering questions? And who is this gentleman?” Fenneman turned an icy gaze on Kit.

Fiancé? Kit looked at Meg. She smiled and nodded at her father, but her face had gone pale.

Were he less confidant, Fenneman’s coldness might’ve been intimidated Kit, but years at war and the knowledge his host was a criminal—no matter his daughter’s affection for the man—allowed Kit to keep a cool and disinterested demeanor.

“Father, this is Mr. Christian Copefort. He’s visiting Fenwick on Sea while he looks for a place to settle. Mr. Copefort, may I present my father, Squire Fenneman, former Major of the Commissariat Corps.”

“Copefort,” Fenneman sneered. “I heard Breakneck Copefort was in Fenwick. Daughter, this gentleman—and I use the term loosely—isn’t a person you should entertain. I’m most disappointed.” Fenneman’s voice rose. “I instructed you to have nothing to do with him. I now have cause to regret allowing you any freedom while I was gone. I’d hoped you learned your lesson about proper behavior and discretion. I see you haven’t.”

A flush crept over her cheeks as her father scolded.

Allowing freedom, learning lessons? What’s the man talking about?

“I am sorry you are disappointed, Father,” she said stiffly. “However, I am of age and able to make my own decisions concerning whom I do or don’t see.”

Fenneman’s face purpled. His hand rose.

Had Kit not seen fright flash through Miss Fenneman’s gaze, her stoic stance might have fooled him into believing the squire’s impending violence an empty threat.

Before the man could strike, Kit grabbed his arm then stepped between father and daughter.

The squire glared at Kit as he forced the older man’s arm down to his side before releasing him.

“You must forgive Miss Fenneman, sir. She’s been nothing but kind to a stranger. I’ve given her no cause to believe our acquaintance is inappropriate. Nonetheless, I will respect your wishes and bid both of you good evening.”

Fenneman leaned toward the bell pull near the door.

“Do not disturb your servants, Squire. I’ll see myself out.”

“Be warned,” the squire snarled. “If I find you near my daughter again, or hear of any encounter between you, I’ll have you arrested and see you transported to Australia.”

Kit didn’t respond. He’d better connections than Fenneman and doubted the man could make good on his threats. “Out of respect for your position in the community, I shan’t approach your daughter again.”

If Margaret Fenneman chose to defy her father, approaching Kit on her own, that was a different matter. He wouldn’t support the imposition of anyone’s whim on a sane and intelligent adult. Miss Fenneman was so much more than that. Her father was a fool twice over for not recognizing his daughter’s worth as more than a bargaining chip in a matrimonial business deal.

Chapter Six

The Queen’s Barque Inn, Suffolk, That same evening

Kit had promised not to approach Miss Fenneman, yet he fretted over her situation. She’d once said her father’s interest in her was perfunctory. From what he’d seen today, Fenneman was indifferent to her needs and desires. However, a man who struck his own child was far from disinterested. No, Fenneman possessed a strong interest in his daughter as a useful tool for his own advancement. That sort of interest placed Miss Fenneman in a precarious position. When a tool failed a violent criminal, the most common action was to destroy the offending implement.