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The rest of the journey to Yorkshire was relatively uneventful.

Aunt Harriet and Uncle Francis still suffered, though they did their best to hide it, Lark did her best to comfort them, and Mr. Branok clearly did his best to distract them with pleasant conversation and wild stories of his adventures.

Once more, Lark relished the chance she had to listen to his tales, though this time, she hid her enjoyment. No need to boost his ego further.

In between the conversations, however, the four of them sat in mutually pained silence until finally, in the afternoon of the final day, they rolled onto the property of a grand estate in Yorkshire.

Aunt and Uncle exchanged looks of relief, and Lark knew no small amount of respite for their sakes, as well. She couldn’t ease their carriage sickness, but she was determined that the next two months would be worth it for them all.

“It is quite a picture, is it not?” Uncle asked, drawing Lark’s attention to the present as he stared out of the window.

“As lovely a house as I have ever seen,” Mr. Branok agreed.

Lark gazed beyond him to see out of the window, too, but immediately sat back when Mr. Branok found her straining.

“Can you see, Miss Fernside?” he asked.

“Indeed,” she lied.

“As well as you could see Mr. Chumley from behind Mr. Dunn?” he softly questioned with a knowing look.

She pulled in her lips—something she had grown accustomed to doing over the years whenever she was forced to hold her tongue. She had a feeling she would be doing much of that over the next two months, especially around Mr. Branok.

“Have a look,” he continued, leaning back in his seat. “You shan’t regret it.”

Lark had a mind to refuse his offer, but her curiosity won out. She looked past his broad shoulders to where the grand, red home stood perfectly positioned between towering beech trees, and excitement swarmed in her belly.

The house was nearly three times smaller than Brackenmore, but it was a fine establishment, nonetheless.

The structure stood four stories tall, red brick covering the left and right side of the home, while a marble front marked the center of the building with intricate carvings and a grand central staircase leading down to the gravel drive.

Altogether, the estate shone perfect symmetry and care, which Lark could not help but admire. She’d always been fond of keeping neat and tidy surroundings. This home would do quite nicely as a place of residence for the next two weeks. Quite nicely, indeed.

The carriage turned down the drive, drawing them closer and closer to the house until finally, they rolled to a stop, and Aunt and Uncle both breathed out sighs of relief.

“Now to recover,” Uncle said softly to his wife.

“Indeed,” Aunt responded, still tinted a shade of green. “I feel as if I could sleep from now until morning.”

Lark winced again. She knew they were happy to join her for this excursion, but once more, guilt rooted itself firmly around her heart.

All of it fled, however, when she caught Mr. Branok’s eyes fixed on her, a look of concern on his brow instead of the usual humor she’d already grown accustomed to over the last few days.

Had he noticed Lark’s discomfort for the welfare of her aunt and uncle?

Instead of saying anything to her, Mr. Branok turned to Aunt and Uncle as they awaited the footman to open the door.

“While I am relieved for both of your sakes,” he began, “I must admit, I shall miss having my traveling companions all to myself. You three have been so pleasant to journey with and more than welcoming. I must thank you again for allowing me to intrude upon your family.”

“Not at all,” Uncle said. “We have been most pleased to have you with us. None more so than my niece, I’m sure. She will no doubt be filled with gratitude to have had you for company, while Mrs. Haskett and I have been indisposed. Are you not grateful, niece?”

Lark nodded. “Yes, Uncle. Very grateful.”

The humor returned to Mr. Branok’s eyes as they shifted to Lark. “I’m sure you are,” he mumbled under his breath.

Before she could respond with a muttered retort of her own, the door opened, and Aunt was encouraged to depart first.

“Do not forget the rules, Miss Fernside,” Mr. Branok whispered as Uncle helped Aunt gather her belongings. “We begin the moment our feet touch Yorkshire soil.”

“I am well aware, sir,” she responded with a quick glance at Uncle Francis to ensure their whisperings remained unnoticed.

She kept her lips still as she continued.

“Now don’t you forget to keep this just between the two of us.

Should you need to speak with me about the competition, I suggest you do so in privacy. ”

“Oh, gladly.” He gave a quick lift of his brows, but Lark turned away, leaving the carriage directly after Aunt.

This blasted competition. Lark never should have agreed to something so utterly ridiculous. Her pride had just been so provoked, she’d been unable to help herself. And she’d made such a fuss over those rules and obtaining his signature that she could hardly reject the challenge now.

Well, never mind. She was in it until the end, and she would not stop until she beat this overly confident, far too flirtatious, stunningly handsome gentleman.

She joined Aunt Harriet on the gravel, discreetly stretching her limbs to rid her body of the tightness she’d been feeling for hours.

Were she a bird like a grebe or a cuckoo, she would ruffle her plumage, then splay out her wings at the side of her to feel that wonderful fresh air between her feathers.

Yet another reason birds were freer than she would ever be.

Uncle exited the carriage next, followed swiftly by Mr. Branok, who was set upon at once by Mr. Chumley. The host ignored Lark as he placed a guiding hand atop Mr. Branok’s shoulder and led him forward toward the front steps of the grand entryway.

The many servants had already arrived—having left the inn that morning earlier than the rest of the party—and were now lining the entryway to the house.

Lark spotted Penelope in an instant, giving her a smile and nod. Penelope—who was just a few years younger than Lark—responded with a curtsy in return, her smooth, dark hair pulled back in a neat and tidy bun that always remained in place no matter her movements.

“Come, my friends, come,” Mr. Chumley said, motioning to the others with a broad smile and drawing Lark’s attention forward again. “We have finally reached our destination. Let us not be shy.”

The group gathered closer together. Lark remained beside Aunt, who mumbled to Uncle, “I shall never step foot in a carriage again, husband. That was dreadful.”

“Think of Lark, my dear,” Uncle Francis responded in a whisper he clearly did not think Lark could hear.

Lark looked away, pretending as if she had not heard them, though her guilt was acute.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Chumley said, stopping a few steps up to be heard by them all, “welcome to Deryn Park, your home for the next fortnight.”

He paused, allowing the group to respond as they modestly clapped, far less enthusiastically than they had at the beginning of the trip.

Clearly, the journey had taken its toll on everyone—and not just the women, as Lark was quick to spot.

Mr. Dunn had dark rings beneath his eyes and one of the redheaded brothers stifled a yawn.

“Now, I know we are all quite spent,” Mr. Chumley continued, “but I assure you, you shall have rest soon. First, we will show each of you to your rooms where you will be greeted by certainly the most comfortable beds of your existence. If you can manage to remove yourselves from your bedchambers, dinner will be served this evening, and I promise you a warm meal, matched only by our pleasant conversation. Furthermore, you shall have plenty of time to rest tomorrow, as I have promised Mrs. Chumley I shall not begin the excursion until ten o’clock in the morning. ”

Lark stifled her rising disappointment. They were going to sacrifice an entire morning simply to recover from traveling? Stuff and nonsense. At least Aunt would appreciate the chance to recover.

“Now,” Mr. Chumley continued, “let us show you to your rooms. Mrs. Chumley?”

He motioned for his wife to join him in leading the party up the stairs, and the others followed close behind.

Lark fell in step after Uncle and Aunt, eyeing the sheer height of the home as she craned her neck to see the top pillars.

As she did so, she caught sight of a bird flying just above the roofing.

Ah, a dunnock. She recognized his song. He would most certainly be going on her list—and the list she would begin anew for her competition with Mr. Branok. The man had no idea what he was up against. He was?—

“Oof,” she grunted as she came face-to-face with Uncle’s back, having been too distracted with the bird to have noticed him pausing on his way up the stairs.

She teetered backward from her collision, attempting to catch her balance as her hands flew out to the side of her. A flash of fear struck through her person as her brain told her where she was destined to fall.

Instead, strong fingers wrapped around her upper arms from behind, settling her back onto the step and holding her securely in place as she regained her bearings.

“Good heavens,” Uncle said, turning round to face her with a startled expression. “My dear Lark, are you well?”

Lark stared dazedly at Uncle with a silent nod, the warm fingers remaining around her arms.

Uncle Francis’s eyes skimmed beyond her shoulder. “Thank heavens you were there, Mr. Branok.”

Mr. Branok.

She breathed. His hands were the ones steadying her. He had been the one to have saved her from surely falling down the steps and perhaps ending the excursion for her before it had even begun.

His hands remained around her arms, warmth swirling from his fingertips and straight to her core. When had he moved behind her?

“It is no trouble, of course, Mr. Haskett,” Mr. Branok responded, his deep voice reverberating through her ears.

“It is that dratted carriage weakening our limbs,” Aunt commented, having stopped on the step above Uncle, her soft brows drawn together. “Are you well, niece?”

“Yes,” Lark responded. “Yes, I am quite well. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Perhaps you ought to hold your uncle’s arm,” Aunt suggested.

Lark nodded, taking a step forward and removing herself from Mr. Branok’s touch. A coldness replaced the warmth of his fingers, wrapping around her arms in unpleasant strands.

“Thank you again, sir,” Uncle said over his shoulder toward Mr. Branok.

Lark chewed her lower lip. She ought to thank Mr. Branok, too, but she shuddered to think of the teasing smile that would be on his lips.

Still, she did not wish to appear ungracious. So, as she continued up the steps with Uncle’s guiding arm beneath her hand, she looked back at him.

Instead of that teasing glimmer in his eye, he simply smiled at her, then mouthed out while pointing up at the sky, “Bird one—dunnock.”

Then he winked and made his way up the steps without another glance in her direction.

Winking at her, teasing her, creating challenges she agreed not to tell her family about…The man was a complete scoundrel.

She couldn’t wait to interact with him again.