Page 15

The following morning, Lark rose before the crack of dawn, hoping to find more birds by beating the sunshine.

Penelope was quite used to Lark’s early rising, so she had already arrived before Lark could even call for her.

The lady’s maid helped her dress in a simple green gown, then sent her off with a polite curtsy.

Through the dark blue light of the early morning, Lark crept through the many corridors of the house, tiptoeing past closed doors and nodding silently to the curious help she passed by.

Eventually, she found her way through the house, having only taken two wrong turns before discovering the entryway and leaving Deryn Park behind to explore what its grounds had to offer.

To her delight, she not only discovered robins, blackbirds, blue tits, and chaffinches—all of which she’d seen before—but she was also able to spy birds she’d only ever seen in her books, a green woodpecker, a wood warbler, and a pied flycatcher, to only name a few.

A full year had passed by since she had been able to add a new bird to the collection she’d started as a child, so discovering so many, her joy was paramount.

So delighted she was with her additions to her journal that when the sun took residence above the fields and the birds’ dawn chorus slowly wound down, Lark wasn’t even upset to leave.

She simply could not wait to share her findings with Aunt and Uncle.

They would no doubt be taking breakfast in their rooms now.

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled, so she hastened her steps along the dirt pathway toward the house. She did not progress far, however, before finding Mr. Branok walking in her direction with the Shepherds quickly in tow.

At the sight of him, Lark’s stomach tumbled over itself.

Last night had been utterly disappointing.

She’d looked forward to hearing even more from Mr. Branok about his travels, then she’d hoped to engage in conversation with those around her about the birds everyone looked forward to seeing.

She’d also longed to make her mark, let everyone know who she was and that she was serious about her observations.

However, with Aunt remaining in her room due to illness, Mrs. Chumley and Mrs. Shepherd speaking about fabrics at one end of the table, and the rest of the gentlemen engaging in conversation about their various hunting trips, Lark had not said a word throughout the entirety of the meal.

Even Mr. Branok did not speak with her, though that was not entirely his fault, as he was seated at the complete opposite end of the table.

Still, she was so disappointed in the lack of engagement that she left for bed early, checking on Aunt Harriet before falling asleep herself.

Last night was sure to be the anomaly, though, as was evident by the success Lark had found that morning. Would speaking with Mr. Branok now improve her mood further?

One could only hope.

She kept her eyes on the pathway until the very last moment, then looked up to see Mr. Branok already watching her.

“Miss Fernside,” he greeted.

“Mr. Branok, Mr. Shepherd, Mrs. Shepherd,” she returned.

Mrs. Shepherd tipped her head to the side with a look of concern. “Miss Fernside, what in heaven’s name are you doing out here?”

Lark had not spoken with the Shepherds a great deal, though the handsome couple—who could only be a year or two older than Lark herself—had smiled at her from across the table a handful of times the night before.

She glanced between the three of them. “Merely taking advantage of the lovely weather and observing God’s beautiful world around us.”

“No, no,” Mrs. Shepherd said, shaking her head, “I mean, what are you doing out here without a chaperone?” she looked around, though it was clear Lark was alone.

Lark stopped herself from scoffing. This was one of the reasons she stayed away from Society—married women always decided they knew better than single individuals.

Well, she would make it clear that she needed no owner—nor husband. “I am walking,” she stated with a simple smile. “As I assume the three of you are doing.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Shepherd responded. “Are you enjoying the fresh Yorkshire air?”

He eyed her from head to foot with a curious gaze—though quite harmless. Mr. Branok still watched her, too. Though, he always watched her.

She glanced at him, and her stomach pulled in with a pleasant dip.

“I am enjoying it, thank you,” Lark responded.

“But…” Mrs. Shepherd began. “But where are your aunt and uncle, Miss Fernside?”

“I assume they are still asleep.”

Lark was accustomed to walking without a chaperone. In fact, her aunt and uncle preferred it, as it saved them from waking up early and following her around in utter silence.

Birds fled with any chatter, see.

At times, she brought along Penelope, but Lark always preferred solitude.

Mr. Chumley would no doubt disapprove of her behavior, but then, what he didn’t know would not hurt him. Now to ensure the Shepherds and Mr. Branok didn’t spread word about her shocking behavior.

“I do hope your aunt feels better,” Mr. Branok said.

“I believe she does,” Lark responded. “It takes her a day to recover from most trips, so she should be back to herself this morning.”

“That is quite unsafe, is it not, Miss Fernside?” Mrs. Shepherd asked, clearly not finished with the conversation from before.

Her arched brows pointed with overt concern.

“To walk on your own, I mean. Especially as we are new to this area. Suppose you fall and injure yourself and do not know where to look or call for help?”

Lark flicked her gaze toward Mr. Branok, who watched the exchange in silence, a restrained smile on his lips. He would be entertained—a gentleman who could travel where he wished, when he wished.

“I assure you, I took great care,” Lark replied.

“At any rate, I am six and twenty and perfectly capable of walking without injuring myself.” Mrs. Shepherd opened her mouth to clearly protest once again, but Lark continued.

“I thank you for your concern, Mrs. Shepherd. It is so generous of you. But my aunt and uncle are perfectly aware of my amble this morning and can see me quite clearly from their window, just there.” She pointed to one of the top rooms—which one was Aunt’s was beyond her—then continued speaking swiftly so Mrs. Shepherd might not attempt to find it.

“Have the three of you managed to eat breakfast before your walk?”

“Ah, yes,” Mr. Shepherd responded with a pleasant smile.

The man was quite handsome, tall and lean, with dark hair and even darker eyes.

But there was a kindness to his features that softened his gaze—a look that only increased as he peered lovingly at his wife.

“Mrs. Shepherd and I enjoyed that earlier. The Chumleys have certainly spared no expense with the gorgeous spread they’ve put on.

Now we’re enjoying our little tête-à-tête with Mr. Branok before the rest of the group seizes their opportunity. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thank you so much for the kind offer,” Lark said with a glance at Mr. Branok. He still watched her with that insufferably charming smile. “But I have yet to eat, and I should like to fill my empty stomach before the food is put away for good.”

“Very wise,” Mr. Shepherd said.

“Do eat enough to sustain your walk,” Mrs. Shepherd said. “We young women ought to replenish our energy often.”

“Very true, my dear,” Mr. Shepherd agreed with a pat of his hand atop his wife’s. “But I am certain she knows this.”

Lark smiled at each of them, curtsying before excusing herself and heading once more toward the house.

She did not make much headway before footsteps sounded behind her, and Mr. Branok spoke her name.

“Miss Fernside?”

She started, turning around to face him. “Mr. Branok?”

The Shepherds waited for him down the pathway so only she could hear Mr. Branok’s words.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“I merely wished to speak with you for a moment.”

She watched him expectantly. “About what exactly?”

He paused. “Well, to be frank, Miss Fernside. I believe I have become so accustomed to being with you on our travels that I must admit to quite missing your conversation.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Was he in earnest? She could never tell with him—nor his reasons behind such flirtatious comments. Was it merely to ruffle her feathers?

Well, two could play at his game.

“Really, Mr. Branok,” she responded, “we hardly spoke in the carriage after that first day. I’m certain you exaggerate.”

“No, no. I am quite in earnest. I found myself wishing to speak with you at dinner last evening. You must imagine my acute disappointment in discovering how far away you sat from me—and further when you did not join us for long in the drawing room afterward. I trust nothing occurred between you and Mr. Dunn that forced you to retire early.”

She hesitated. Mr. Dunn had been her greatest disappointment and greatest relief from the entire excursion so far.

He’d been insufferably dull the night before with snore-inducing words about his various muskets.

It made her regret taking the only seat left next to him instead of leaving right then and there at dinner.

And yet, she could not help the relief she knew that he was not Mr. Branok after all.

Still, she did not wish for Mr. Chumley to hear that she disapproved of the other members of their party. “No, I was simply tired, that is all.”

He nodded, though his look revealed how greatly he did not believe her. “You’re certain it had nothing to do with the conversation around the table, then?”

“Oh, no. I love…talking about…hunting.”

His eyes settled deeper into hers. “I shan’t tell Mr. Chumley the conversations that take place between us.”

She hesitated, if only due to her very soul instantly trusting the man’s words, as if her heart had more sway than her logic. There were very few men who had earned her trust in life. Why did her heart believe Mr. Branok could so readily be part of that club?

“You do not trust me,” he stated without question, obviously reading her expression.

To her relief, he did not appear offended, merely intrigued.

“On the contrary,” she said truthfully. “I do trust you.”

“But you require a signature from me for you to do so?”

The glow in his eyes and the lure of his teasing lips coaxed out a smile of her own.

“No,” she finally stated. “I merely find it difficult to speak the truth with you because, as you said, you are so far removed from gentlemanly manners.”

“Perhaps in Society’s view,” he stated. “But as a true gentleman, I assure you, you will find no man as genteel as I.”

Once again, her heart pulled toward him.

“Very well,” she finally relented. “If you wish me to be honest, I will be. While Mr. Dunn is not solely the cause, I did leave last night due to the conversation. I cannot abide discussions of hunting, especially when spoken by gentlemen who claim to be bird enthusiasts.”

To her surprise, Mr. Branok nodded soberly. “I must agree with you there, Miss Fernside. I, for one, have a difficult time tolerating hunting, as well. Especially when it comes to birds of any sort—even the ones we eat.”

She wondered if that was really true, but as she thought of the evening before, she could not recall Mr. Branok joining in with most of the conversation, either.

How had she not realized until then?

As they recognized their similarity, a connection she had not expected filled the air between them. She needed to do something to break it, or her heart would drift senselessly toward him again.

“And yet,” she began, “are we not both hypocritical, as we were eating the very hunted pheasants last evening for dinner?”

He stared down at her, then suddenly chuckled, which elicited a soft laugh of her own.

“Quite right, Miss Fernside,” Henry said. “I suppose we all have our levels, though I do admit I’ve never liked the taste of the bird.”

“Neither have I.” She rested a hand against her lips to stifle her own smile, finding the Shepherds looking in their direction. “I suppose you ought not keep them any longer.”

He nodded, not bothering to look over his shoulder. “Yes.” He paused, lowering his voice a degree further. “It is a shame we do not have more time together, though. I was hoping to compare numbers, you see, as I assume you were out here early to add to your list.”

She pulled on a look of disappointment. “Why, Mr. Branok, have you forgotten our second rule already? We mustn’t speak of our lists until the end of the challenge.”

“Ah, of course. I suppose it is just as well, then.”

“But I will say,” she continued, “that was precisely what I was doing this morning.”

He grinned. “I thought so.”

“Is that not why you are out here?”

“That was the plan, yes. But with the Shepherds’ jovial but ever-present conversation…”

“You will find it very difficult, indeed, to find any birds at all,” she finished.

“Precisely.”

They shared a smile, but he broke their gaze in the next moment. “I will take my leave of you, then. Shall I see you in my class?”

His class. She could hardly wait for it. But she wouldn’t ever let him in on that knowledge. “I suppose.”

He grinned, seeming to take great pleasure in her teasing. “You had better be on time, or I just might make an example out of you.”

“I have been warned,” she said, then she curtsied, turned on the heel of her half-boot, and walked away.

She felt his eyes remain on her, but she forced herself to keep her eyes focused ahead as she contemplated what on earth had just happened between her and Mr. Branok—for her admiration was swiftly shifting from his writing…to who he was as a person.

And she wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.