Page 25 of What the Heart Knows

“I can send a note back to her saying I received her request for pink ribbons and ordered them from Yarmouth, expecting delivery tomorrow. Miss Fenneman hates pink—though I doubt either the squire or Brookbank knows. She’ll understand I’m saying her message was received.”

“With any luck, the lack of obvious action will lull those two men into thinking she can be trusted to come into Fenwick and return home. If she can get to the village, could you arrange a meeting for us at a secure location?”

“Aye, I’ll do that, Mr. Copefort.”

Beuth left to pen his note, and Kit considered Meg’s situation from all angles.

First, he must determine she truly did not wish to marry Brookbank. Her antipathy for the man was clear. Still, women often changed their minds for reasons a mere man could not understand.

Kit also needed to know what actions she was willing to take. Would she let him send her away, out of danger?

Somehow Kit doubted Meg could be convinced to run away, especially given the complicated relationship she had with her father. She would see leaving as abandoning the squire. That he had abandoned her for much of her life did not seem to matter.

What alternative was there?

Could he force her to leave? Behave like every other man in her life with power. No, force must be applied to Brookbank and the squire. True, but Kit still did not know how to protect Meg, while her father and his cohort were subdued.

They would fight back first, and Meg was an ideal weapon. He had to convince her to leave home. That was the only way.

Chapter Eight

The Queen’s Barque Inn, The next day

Beuth’s message arrived just after luncheon.

“Would Mr. Copefort please ride out to Salt Hall for a short two o’clock meeting regarding his purchase of the property?”

Since Kit never offered for Salt Hall, Beuth could only mean Meg had visited the shopkeeper. The meeting was arranged at Salt Hall. No one would expect Meg to be there, especially if she was never seen leaving Beuth’s shop.

A glance at his pocket watch showed Kit had a slim half hour to prepare. He arrived at the gates to Salt Hall with moments to spare.

Meg wore a fetching blue dress. A matching ribbon secured her bonnet, and she drove a smart silver and black curricle with a pair of handsome matched grays. An elaborate crest decorated the door panel.

Beuth, seated on a chubby gelding, spoke quietly with Miss Fenneman.

“Oh, look,” she said, noticing Kit’s approach. “Mr. Copefort’s here at last. Thank you, Mr. Beuth, for your kind escort today,” she dismissed the shopkeeper.

“I’ll bid you good day, miss.” Beuth doffed his hat. “Keep her safe, Mr. Copefort.”

Kit bent his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll endeavor to do so.”

As Beuth rode off, Kit found himself both relieved to see the man go and reluctant to be alone with Meg. If they were discovered by anyone, she would be ruined. He would offer for her, of course. Oddly, the idea appealed.

He blinked in silent surprise at the thought. Then, before his eyes Miss Fenneman transformed. Oh, she looked the same charming lady she always appeared. However, something about her features was abruptly more priceless than the very air he breathed.

Kit shook his head. What’s happening to me?

“Are you well, Mr. Copefort?”

“Ah, yes, certainly. Quite all right. Very! All right.”

Stop babbling, fool. He’d not been so tongue-tied since being forced to partner his cousin’s pimple-faced, younger sister for all her dance lessons. His toes still recalled the pain.

“Perhaps you’d care to secure your mount behind the curricle and join me. We can talk while I drive. Hmmm?”

“An excellent idea.” Which has nothing to do with the itch of my fingers to touch Meg’s… hand. He hurried to secure his horse at the rear of the carriage then climbed up beside her.

She gathered the reins, preparing to give her team the office. “Where shall we go, Kit?”