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Or…or perhaps that was merely an excuse, and the truth of the matter was, Miss Fernside was the most beautiful and intriguing woman he’d ever met, and she was, therefore, quite simply, irresistible.

“There,” she said, pulling back from her writing as she finished inscribing. “Now the third rule.”

She looked at him expectantly.

Right. He was supposed to be devising their plan. “I think we ought to make it a requirement that we must observe the bird in nature in order for it to count toward our list.”

“Naturally,” she agreed, writing his words down. “That will make the challenge fairer, as well.”

“And why is that?” he questioned. “Because you would attempt to add the birds you see in your books?”

He dropped the sentence before her, hoping for a reaction, but all she gave him was a sidelong glance and a subtle shake of her head.

“No,” she stated. “Because if we were including bird songs , I would have a significant advantage over you, as I can recognize a substantial number of birds by their calls alone.”

He eyed her. “Is that true?”

“I do not tell falsehoods.” Then she looked up at him. “Usually.”

Her gaze lingered, and a spark of humor he didn’t know she was capable of glinted in her eyes.

Henry felt like soaring.

“The fourth rule,” she continued, “ought to restrict either of us from sharing about this challenge with anyone else.” She glanced up at the Hasketts. “After all, I hardly think they would approve. Or Mr. Chumley.”

“Agreed,” he said.

“Are you certain? About Mr. Chumley, I mean.”

Clearly, she was asking if Henry could be trusted.

“I am certain,” he said in earnest, leaving behind his teasing nature for a moment so she could see the truth in his eyes. “I would not wish to create any grief for you—or to detract from the excursion.”

She studied him, then gave a single nod before writing further.

A lightness unfurled within him like a spotted falcon spreading out his wings. Miss Fernside trusted him. Why was the idea so satisfying?

“At any rate,” he said under his breath as he leaned toward her again, “it is far more exciting to keep this between the two of us, do you not think?”

She merely continued writing. “If you say so.”

He would have laughed again but settled with a simple smile. Her attempt at remaining unaffected by his words—the way she shifted subtly away from him though her eyes continued to skirt toward him—was nothing short of endearing.

“The fifth rule would be to ensure that we write down each unique bird, the location where we observed it, when we observed it, and a short description of what we saw,” she said. “This way we may prove our sightings if necessary.”

“Very good.”

She wrote more, pausing as they passed over another jut in the road. “The only other rule I can think of is that both of us have to do our very best.”

He paused. That would put a damper on his earlier decision to help her win. “Surely that does not need to be said.”

“One would think so,” she said, still writing. “But gentlemen—even those who have separated themselves from Society—are notorious for their chivalry. I will have none of that. If I am entering this challenge, you must do your best to beat me.”

She was so wonderfully confident. But he had little to no faith that she would beat him at this game. He did not wish to appear prideful in the least, but how could a woman who had not left Suffolk hold her own against Henry, a gentleman who had traveled the world?

“So,” she continued, “do you agree?”

“Yes. You needn’t worry. I shall do my best to win.”

So much for ensuring her victory. Because now that he’d promised, he would do his best.

She finished writing the final and sixth rule on both pages, then pulled back. “Anything else you care to include?”

“No, I believe you have been more than thorough.”

She did not respond, merely tore the two papers from her notebook and extended them to him. “Sign here,” she said, pointing to one of the two lines she drew below the rules.

He did as he was told, placing his signature on both papers using her pencil and fighting off a smile as he extended them back to her. “Here you are.”

She took them without a word, examining the signatures before signing her own name beneath his. Finally, she returned his paper, which he accepted with a nod.

“This is all very official,” he said, folding the paper and tucking it into his waistcoat pocket.

“Indeed,” she said, apparently missing his teasing tone as she folded her own paper and secured it behind the front cover of her book.

“We are settled, then,” he said. “May the best bird observer win.”

“Thank you. I shall,” she stated without a glance in his direction.

Then she pulled open her book, tilting it away so he could not see within, and shifted her body toward the window, clearly signaling the end of their conversation.

Henry was sorely tempted to tease her further, but when he found her watching him from the corner of her eye, as if she wished to speak, as well, he shifted away and focused his gaze on the small, stone farmhouses punctuating the hills far beyond.

Perhaps withholding his conversation would make her long for it even more. That would be needed on their excursion, as he had a feeling he and Miss Fernside would be doing a great deal of conversing over the next two months. Conversing…and more.

He couldn’t wait to begin.