Page 37 of What the Heart Knows

“No?”

“No,” Kit said while his cousin took to the saddle. “We suspect she managed to escape on her own.”

“She’s wandering alone in this fog?” George questioned.

“I have every expectation, of meeting Miss Fenneman for the first time at the Queen’s Barque,” Reid asserted. “My cousin and I must leave and confirm my expectation. However, you, George, must remain here.”

“Why? I’m just as worrit about Miss Meg as you!”

“You’ll assist Miss Fenneman’s maid to pack clothes and necessities for her mistress. Then you will escort the maid to the Queen’s Barque.”

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.”