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L ark was sorely tempted not to go to dinner that evening after the dull conversations that had occurred the previous night. However, with Aunt Harriet feeling better and promising to attend, Lark finally relented and joined the others for the meal.

Due to the relaxed atmosphere of the excursion—and the unequal ratio of males to females—Lark trailed alone behind Aunt Harriet and Uncle Francis, choosing a humble side seat toward the end of the unassigned table.

As the others took their seats, Aunt with her husband to her left and Lark to her right, Lark cast her eyes to the head of the table to where she assumed Mr. Branok would sit near the Chumleys again.

However, when the empty chair to her left scraped against the wooden floor, she was stunned to discover Mr. Branok at her side, instead.

“Mr. Branok, do join us up here,” Mr. Chumley said, only just above the chatter around the table.

But Mr. Branok, whether he’d heard the man or not, took his seat beside Lark with a happy smile.

Lark hesitated to return it. While she obviously would not mind conversing with Mr. Branok throughout the meal, Mr. Chumley would not take kindly to her disruption of his plans. Especially not after she’d already upset Mr. Dunn with her accuracy about the kingfisher.

She stifled a sigh. Stubborn gentlemen and their compulsive need to always be correct in everything. They were exhausting.

Still, she couldn’t risk being expelled from the excursion.

“Mr. Chumley has summoned you, sir,” Lark spoke softly, subtly motioning to the head of the table.

Mr. Branok didn’t look up from his place setting. “Did he? I wasn’t aware.”

He made no motion to move, nor showed any desire to do so. Lark bit her lower lip to prevent a triumphant grin from splattering across her face.

“Are you joining us at this end of the table, Mr. Branok?” Aunt Harriet asked, peering around Lark with a friendly smile of her own.

“If I may, yes,” he responded. Then he lowered his voice. “I must admit, I have been missing my carriage companions greatly.”

His eyes lingered on Lark for a moment, but Lark didn’t meet his gaze, glancing at Aunt instead, but she appeared none the wiser to his little knowing looks.

That was fine by Lark. The last thing she wanted to do was settle any suspicions from her family members that there might be something going on between her and Mr. Branok, when all that was between them was a rocky rivalry, at best.

The conversations were small and short around the table, transitioning to longer and more inclusive as the meal progressed, but Mr. Branok was central to them all, preventing Lark from speaking with him until the third course was served.

As Mr. Dunn spoke loudly at the opposite end of the table about a bird sighting he’d had at his precious lake on his estate, Mr. Branok finally addressed her.

“How did your list fare today?” he asked in a lowered tone.

She glanced around, ensuring no one else had heard him. “We mustn’t speak of such things.”

“Of course. The rules.” He took a bite of his boiled potato. His jaw worked slowly as he chewed, the small muscle in his temple pulsing. “I am willing to bend them, should you like to ask after my list.”

She had to admit she had been curious about how many he’d accumulated thus far. She was now at thirty-four, which she thought was respectable enough after only a single full day in Yorkshire. But Mr. Branok was a professional. How many would he have?

Then again, rules were rules.

“No, thank you,” she finally stated.

He responded with a smile. “That’s fine, then. I will say, however, I found more than I was expecting to this morning.”

“Indeed?” she asked, feigning disinterest. “Even with the Shepherds speaking with you?”

He shrugged. “I suppose I’m simply talented. Oh, no. I forgot. I am not a serious bird observer.”

She shook her head. “You will never let me forget that, will you?”

“Not if I can help it, no.”

They shared a look as he popped another piece of his potato in his mouth, chewing with deliberate confidence. The wrinkles at the edges of his eyes gave away his teasing, but she looked away before she stared too deeply into those blue depths. She could easily drown in such alluring seas.

“I enjoyed our conversation earlier,” he began again after he swallowed. “Before you shushed me, that is.”

He eyed her sidelong, and she hid her smile. “I can’t imagine how you were enjoying it. I wasn’t being particularly delicate.”

She never should have shared her opinion about his class—even though he’d asked her to. She hated to think that she’d offended him.

“Fortunately I wasn’t seeking delicacy,” he returned. “I appreciate your feedback and will take it into account. I only regret that we were interrupted. Perhaps we ought to carry on now?”

Lark wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Was it not better to leave things on a positive note? “I am uncertain. We almost missed seeing the kingfisher due to that conversation.”

“I can see your point,” he said. “I shudder to think how many birds you’d miss in this dining room if we continued now.” He stared at her from the corner of his eyes. “Unless you are counting the pheasant?”

He motioned to the pile of meat before them left untouched by them both.

“Perhaps that ought to be rule number seven,” she said. “Plated birds do not count toward our accumulative total.”

He laughed, then held a tanned fist to his lip, checking himself before he drew attention.

A thrill shot through her to know she’d elicited such a reaction.

Mr. Dunn’s words drifted toward them for a moment. “But with such a grand lake, I have the pleasure of seeing so many birds. I shall list them for you all. Wren. Robin. Swallow. Brent goose…”

He continued, but Lark didn’t hear as Mr. Branok spoke with her instead. “Might you agree to finish the conversation, though? For me?”

He sent her that ever-so-charming smile, and she sighed. She was fairly certain, if he asked her to, she’d eat that entire plate of pheasant before them, just so she could earn another one of those smiles.

“Very well,” she relented.

He smiled, satisfied. “I merely wished to know if there was any other advice you might have to make my instruction better.”

She humbly shook her head. “Really, sir, you ought not be taking any advice from me. I am no world traveler, as you well know, nor have I instructed others or…”

His grin stopped her, and she pulled back with a frown. “Why do you smile?”

“Because I cannot make heads nor tails of you, Miss Fernside.”

“What do you mean?”

“One minute, you are fully confident in your opinions and with your bird observations, and in the next, you humbly and readily set aside your accomplishments.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He was reading her far too accurately. “I have no accomplishments.”

“You see? Even now you dismiss yourself.” He stared over at her. “Now if only I could decipher which one is the real Miss Fernside.”

He looked at her expectantly, and to Lark’s surprise, she wanted to explain herself to Mr. Branok. Perhaps it was because he was the first man who had ever truly wished to know who she really was.

She glanced around the table, ensuring the others still listened to Mr. Dunn’s droning voice as she responded. “I suppose,” she began, “I am a bit of both. I must prove my worth for others to see my worth—for I do believe I have worth. But then, I do not wish to be seen as ungrateful or pompous.”

Mr. Branok seemed to mull over her words for a moment. “I understand your reasoning. And yet, you needn’t stifle your talents and abilities out of fear.”

“That is easier for you to say than for me to do. You are loved and embraced by all.”

His features sobered. “Not all.” He peered off, as if deep in thought. “But I have learned these last few years that we needn’t prove who we are. We simply need to be who we are.”

His eyes met hers, his stare delving into her soul as he continued.

“You are a naturally humble person, Miss Fernside. I can see it in your eyes. But I have also been witness enough to know you are gifted. As such, if you ever have anything to share with the group—anything at all—I would welcome and appreciate your words and knowledge. For you have just as much right to be here as the rest of us.”

Lark didn’t know what to say. His words had tugged her spirits out of the cage they’d been locked within since the start of the excursion. And yet, she hesitated. To be her true self—bird-loving, fortune-hunted, society-despising Lark—was a frightening notion.

“Do you disagree with my words, or simply find fault in them?” Mr. Branok asked as she remained silent. “I can only assume both, due to that frown upon your brow.”

She shook her head, smoothing her frown with a small smile. “Neither, I assure you. I am merely contemplating your words. And wondering how you came to be so intelligent.”

Just like that, the spark was back in his eyes.

“I was not born with it, I assure you. Any intelligence I do have can be safely attributed to my parents. They were the picture of perfect marital bliss. If anything could persuade me to be married myself, my parents’ relationship would have done the trick. ”

Lark looked away, unsure if he was even aware of what he was saying. She’d had the thought before, had wondered why he’d remained unmarried. Had he no desire to drag a wife around with him? No wish to leave a family at home?

Still, this was hardly an appropriate conversation for two single individuals at a dinner table. Then again, creating secret challenges and whispering to each other at every turn weren’t appropriate either.

Thank heavens Mr. Dunn’s words drowned out any other sound. Even the clinking silverware struggled to make their mark.

Mr. Branok blinked in the next moment, coming out of his stupor and staring at her before straightening in his seat. “But marriage would never suit my way of life. Nor yours, I assume?”

“No,” she answered more forcefully than she’d intended. “No, indeed. I enjoy my freedom too greatly.” Then she looked at him. “And you. Is that your reasoning for remaining single, as well?”

“Just so.”

They fell silent again. Would he listen to Mr. Dunn now? Had he had enough of her conversation?

“Have you any siblings?” he asked.

Her heart trilled. “No, though I’ve always wanted sisters.”

“Only sisters?”

“Yes. Brothers always seemed like too much trouble to me.”

Mr. Yates, the man who’d first broken her heart, had had six brothers, and he was the youngest and least sensible of them all. Hence why he had been in search of a young, malleable heiress to help sustain his gambling habits.

Rotten to the core, he was.

Not like Mr. Branok. This man’s parents must have been blessed to have him.

She hesitated at the thought of his mother and father. She knew what it was like to lose a parent, but she’d had much longer to sort through her grief. Still, she had to say something.

“I…I was sorry to hear about your parents,” she said softly. “I, too, lost a father, though many years have passed since.”

His features sobered. “I am sorry to hear that, as well. How old were you?”

“Eight years old,” she said. “His horse threw him. He never regained consciousness. Aunt and Uncle came to live with us after he passed, and it helped, to a degree.” She paused, staring down at the table as she pictured Father’s kind eyes and thick mustache.

“Father was the reason I fell so deeply in love with bird observing. He was the one to give me the name Lark , for woodlarks were his favorite. Together, we would spend hours out of doors, just he and I together, listening, mimicking, and watching them round our estate.”

Mr. Branok looked as if he wished to hear more, but she couldn’t. If she dwelled on the loss too greatly—especially with someone who’d experienced something similar—her tears would not be capped.

“I will not claim to know how you feel,” she continued, “as grief is so very personal, but sorrow, while never gone completely, does become easier to bear over time.”

His eyes softened, and an unspoken bond she’d never experienced before passed between them.

“Thank you, Miss Fernside,” he said gently. “Your words have given me much-needed hope.”

She nodded, her heart warming at the notion.

“I, too, had a bond with my father,” he said. “He was my greatest and most trusted ally, as I did not come by friends easily in my youth.”

“A feeling I know all too well,” she said. “Finding someone who accepts one’s oddities and passions can be difficult.”

He looked down at her. “And yet, our friendship, perhaps, is not so elusive?”

A burden lifted slightly off her shoulders. “Perhaps not.”

“After all,” he continued, “we obviously agreed to both pass on the pheasant this evening.” He motioned to their plates—and the decided lack of pheasant upon them.

“Certainly,” she agreed. “And I do enjoy speaking with you. When you are not attempting to bend the rules of our challenge at every opportunity.”

“Bending the rules is what makes life enjoyable.”

“If you say so.”

“What do you say?”

She eyed him, grateful for the lightened tone in their conversation. “I say you’re as cunning as a crow and as pesky as a pigeon.”

He beamed. “I’ll take that as a compliment, seeing as how you admire birds.” He leaned closer. “Perhaps you might even one day admire me. As a friend, of course.”

“Of course. As a friend.”

They shared a smile, but instead of looking away as friends ought to have, something very un-friend-like passed between them. His features softened as they perused her face, and her heart twittered in response at the admiration clearly shining forth from his eyes.

She cleared her throat and looked away. She’d been admired by other men before, but never had she felt a stirring in the base of her stomach as she had when Mr. Branok watched her.

Feeling another pair of eyes on her, Lark glanced at Aunt Harriet, who studied her pensively, and dread pulled Lark’s spirits straight back to their cage.

She had been so distracted by her conversation with Mr. Branok, she’d forgotten to ensure their words went unnoticed.

She smiled innocently at her aunt, ensured everyone else still listened to Mr. Dunn, then finished the last of the food on her plate, though her stomach had turned the meal sour.

With the look Aunt Harriet had given her, Lark was certain that soon enough, she would be required to explain that only a friendship existed between herself and Mr. Branok.

But, oh, how she dreaded such a conversation because she was finding it difficult to imagine convincing someone of her words when she wasn’t fully convinced of them herself.