Page 38

F inally, Mr. Branok turned, facing Lark with a look of confusion, which swiftly shifted to concern.

“Miss Fernside?” He moved toward her directly, removing his hat. Rain poured down around his features. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, breathlessly speaking. “No, there’s—there’s an owl—she’s caught—a snare—in the woods.”

“Take me to her.”

She nodded, running back the way she came with Mr. Branok in tow.

Together, they made their way through the trees, slowing down as they approached the owl and attempting to level their breathing.

“She’s just there,” she whispered, pointing through the clearing.

Mr. Branok hunched down beside her, their shoulders grazing as he looked through the bushes.

“Do you know how long she’s been there?” he whispered through the owl’s clacking beak.

Lark shook her head. “I can only imagine through the night.”

He nodded, dropping his hat on the ground next to her long-forgotten bonnet and removing his greatcoat from around his shoulders. “We must try to release her from the snare.”

We? He wanted her help?

He handed Lark the coat, and she took it without question, the fabric heavy as she folded it over her arms.

“Put that on,” he commanded. “It will protect you from the rain.”

Lark hesitated, then did as she was told, the scent of his cologne muddling her senses. “What about you?”

He removed his jacket, revealing his dark blue waistcoat and white shirtsleeves speckled with rain.

“I’ll be fine. I’m going to cover the owl with this”—he held up his jacket—“and when I have hold of her securely, I’ll give you a signal.

Then you must help me untie the snare. Do you think you can manage? ”

He’d asked the question not out of doubt, but out of care. Lark could see it in his eyes.

“Yes,” she stated firmly. “I can do that.”

He nodded, loosening his cravat then moving from their hiding place.

Lark watched him slowly creep out of the woods into the clearing and toward the owl. The creature remained still, her obsidian eyes unflinching. The only sign she was agitated at all was the clacking of her beak and thinning of her body as she stretched taller.

Mr. Branok didn’t speak, merely approached the owl in silence, the only sound being that of his footsteps in the soft, wet grass beneath his boots.

He paused a few feet away, holding the jacket up slowly, then in one swift movement, he tossed the cover toward the owl.

She responded with a sudden screech, and Lark gasped as the owl flared its wings, attempting to escape, but the snare caught harder around her leg.

Mr. Branok retrieved the discarded jacket, stepped a few feet away, then did the process again, and again. On his fourth attempt, the jacket landed squarely over the owl, and he launched forward, wrapping his arms around the bird to secure his hold of her.

He maneuvered around the grass until he settled in a seated position, the owl holding still and silent now she could not see the danger around her.

Lark waited with bated breath. Finally, Mr. Branok met her eye and nodded. Swiftly, she left her shelter in the trees and joined him in the clearing, kneeling at his side with his greatcoat heavy around her shoulders.

“Careful of her talons,” he instructed in a soothing voice, holding the owl more securely.

Lark nodded in silence, examining the knots in the snare before reaching forward, acutely aware of the black claws and foot of the owl stretching out nearly five inches. They would shred her gloves in a heartbeat.

“Are you frightened?” Mr. Branok asked.

She was going to lie to save her pride, then decided against it. “Yes.”

She glanced up at him, his eyes steady. “I promise you, I will do my part to keep you safe. You do yours to keep her safe.” He motioned to the bird, giving Lark an encouraging nod. “You can do this, Miss Fernside.”

She drew a steadying breath. If Mr. Branok had faith in her, she would have faith in herself, too.

Upon her first touch, the owl reacted with another screech, attempting to spread its wings again and thrashing about its talons. It caught the end of her dress, but Lark dodged out of the way before any damage could be done to her flesh.

Mr. Branok held fast, his features strained with effort. “Are you hurt?” he asked, frowning.

“No. No, I am well.”

Then she moved toward the snare once again. She wrestled with the wire for nearly a quarter of an hour as Mr. Branok held the bird until finally, the snare was freed from the owl’s legs, and Mr. Branok motioned for Lark to return to the trees.

She did so at once, holding his greatcoat securely round her, ever grateful for the shelter it had provided. She turned back around to face him as soon as she was in the midst of the trees, then watched him roll his body to the side, release the bird and jacket, and back away slowly toward Lark.

The owl didn’t move for a moment, merely clacking her beak in warning as Mr. Branok joined Lark behind the bushes.

“Is she injured?” Lark whispered.

“No,” Mr. Branok responded. “Look.”

They watched in silence as the owl remained still. Then all at once, the bird splayed out her greyish brown feathers, knocked the jacket to the ground, and beat her wings against the air until she took flight in silence, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

They watched her fly away, a sense of accomplishment swelling within Lark’s heart as the owl flew above the trees until she disappeared out of sight.

Lark and Mr. Branok remained in their hiding spot, though they straightened in silence before looking at one another.

“That was…” she began, shaking her head.

“Incredible,” he finished.

Lark had to agree.

She stared at the snare the owl had left behind, Mr. Branok’s jacket crumpled to the side of it. “How did you know how to do that—hold her, I mean?”

“Our guide did the very same to a pelican while we were in Hudson’s Bay. I had no idea if it would work with an owl.” He smiled. “Thank heavens it did.”

She breathed out a laugh of relief. “Thank heavens, indeed. I don’t believe she would have been alive for much longer had we not helped her.”

“No.” Mr. Branok’s brow creased. “Although, it never should have happened in the first place. More care needs to be given to snares and where they are placed. You were fortunate to have found her out here.” Then he paused. “Why are you out here? And on your own?”

“I needed an escape.”

“From being indoors?”

She hesitated. “From being with my own thoughts.”

He watched her, clearly waiting for more of an explanation, but she wasn’t certain she was ready for that. “Why did you return so early? And in the back entrance?”

He hesitated then, too. Rain had soaked through his shirtsleeves while holding the owl, and now, the see-through fabric clung to the contours of his arms.

“I needed an escape, too.” He averted his eyes. “And I needed to speak with you.”

Her stomach tightened. He hardly sounded pleased.

“About what?” she asked, attempting indifference.

He stared at the grass between them, water droplets clinging to the ends of his dark blond strands. “A delicate matter. And slightly awkward. But I must be honest, for I have learned from my mistakes before and will not avoid you again.”

She waited for him to continue as he drew a deep breath, his blue eyes soft, though weary.

“It would appear there are some in our party who have misinterpreted our friendship and suspect there is something more between us than there is. Unfortunately, I believe your uncle is one of them. Not only does he seem upset with the very idea, but he also appears quite troubled due to my involvement with Blackstone’s…

” He trailed off, shaking his head before continuing.

“However, I would hate for his assumption to encourage him to act recklessly—specifically, to force the two of us to wed.”

Lark reeled at his words—not over the information, but over the very fact that Mr. Branok was speaking about such matters with her. Did his honesty know no bounds?

“Furthermore,” he continued, “I recognize the coincidental timing of all of this. Directly after I assure you the rumors about me being a scoundrel were untrue and that I would never intentionally involve you in anything that might sully your good name, this just so happens to occur. I cannot tell you how greatly upset I would become should anything adverse happen to you, or should you be persuaded to believe I was speaking anything other than the truth. I only pray this does not create mistrust between us, for I should like our friendship to continue. However, I will respect your decision whatever the outcome.”

He stopped, facing Lark directly with a tight jaw.

Lark replied at once, anxious to soothe his concerns. “Sir, I thank you for your transparency, but you must allow me to settle your troubles immediately. I assure you, I trust you now more than ever. And I appreciate your honesty more than you’ll ever know.”

Relief shone in his eyes as she continued.

“As for my uncle, I meant what I said before, about him not being cause for concern. He is merely protective due to…to my past.”

He watched her, his gaze heavy. She tried to hold her tongue, but his honesty before about his past produced the desire within her to share about her own.

“I do not wish to intrude,” he said softly.

“I know. But I am ready now.” She drew a deep breath. “You once asked me why my opinion of gentlemen is so poor. It is due to one man in particular. A man I’d once planned to marry.”

His jaw, still wet with rain, twitched. “I see.”