Page 49

M r. Branok led her through the forest, weaving their way around trunks and bushes until he pulled her behind a wide tree.

He leaned his back against the trunk, pulling her body face forward against him to shield her from any sighting.

She clung to the sides of his jacket, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, though she tried to stifle it, for each breath pulled her closer to Mr. Branok.

He held her in place, his strong hands searing her upper forearms with heat, as if his protective hands would be branded into her skin forever.

At least then she would have a part of him with her when he left.

The voices grew louder, a distinct male and female tone marking the air.

“Who are they?” Lark dared to whisper.

Mr. Branok didn’t respond for a moment, then he bent down, whispering in her ear, “Shepherds.”

His breath tickled the side of her neck, and pleasant chills ran up and down her skin. She closed her eyes to balance herself, his proximity making her head spin as he straightened, though he kept hold of her behind the tree.

She strained to listen to the couple approaching, finally hearing their words.

“This is utterly ridiculous, Mr. Shepherd,” Mrs. Shepherd said in a voice that Lark guessed was supposed to be a whisper.

“Ridiculous?” Mr. Shepherd returned. “My dear Mrs. Shepherd, this is romantic .”

Mrs. Shepherd giggled, and a small degree of Lark’s nerves settled, at least in regard to being discovered. Of all those in their party, the Shepherds would cause the least amount of damage.

Though Lark had always said she cared not what Society thought of her, she did not have the energy to go through whatever rumors would abound should she and Mr. Branok be caught in such a compromising situation. As such, she sealed her lips as the couple drew closer.

“Come along, my darling,” Mr. Shepherd was saying, “where is your sense of adventure?”

“I never had one, if you recall. You would no doubt be better off on your own out here.”

“Nonsense,” Mr. Shepherd said at once. “I am far happier with you than without. After all, what would be the purpose in partaking in an activity like this if I cannot share it with the one I love?”

Lark felt the hair at her brow shift back and forth with the breeze, only to discover it was Mr. Branok’s breath instead, warm and steady against her skin, his fingers still encircling her in a protective yet gentle manner she’d never before experienced.

“It is freezing out,” Mrs. Shepherd continued, her voice jerking as if she shivered. “Why can we not find the bird in the daytime?”

“You heard Mr. Branok. The bird is most active at night. Come now, I shall keep you warm.”

Silence followed. The couple must have stopped just a few feet away from the tree Lark and Mr. Branok had hidden behind, for Mrs. Shepherd’s giggling sounded louder. “I thought you brought me out here to find that night…ling? Night…tern?”

“Night jar ,” Mr. Shepherd said.

“I still cannot imagine why you are so determined.”

“Imagine the look on Mr. Branok’s and Miss Fernside’s faces when we tell them we discovered it first,” Mr. Shepherd said.

They laughed together, and Lark pulled back to meet Mr. Branok’s gaze. They shared a look of amusement in the darkness, but as her eyes dropped to the smile tipping his own lips upward, her heart thudded dully in her ears.

They were so close to one another. Her fingers loosened round his jacket, no longer clutching at the fabric but resting at his sides.

“You are mad if you think that possible, my dear,” Mrs. Shepherd responded. “Those two could find a flock of birds with their eyes closed at the bottom of the sea, I’m sure of it.” She broke off with a sigh. “They are quite a formidable pair. When will they finally see reason and wed?”

Lark stiffened. She dropped her gaze, though she felt Mr. Branok’s watchful eye on her as the conversation continued.

“I don’t know,” Mr. Shepherd said. “We both know they have no plans to do so.”

“Yes, that is what they’ve said, but it is another matter entirely what they feel . Surely you’ve seen the way Miss Fernside brightens whenever his attention is upon her.”

Lark could no longer feel the chill on the air, heat rushing through her body. Mr. Branok still stared down at her, but she could not lift her gaze. Her humiliation was already acute.

“They’re always sneaking off together, too,” Mrs. Shepherd continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, though it carried on a draught. “And the way he watches her? There are veritable stars in his eyes. Surely you have noticed that.”

Lark fought everything within her not to look at Mr. Branok. She had seen those stars far too often in his expression. They would be ingrained in her memory for eternity.

“I couldn’t say I have noticed that,” Mr. Shepherd responded. “We gentlemen aren’t the most observant when it comes to such matters.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Shepherd hummed disappointedly. “Then there is nothing recent you’ve seen or heard from Mr. Branok that would point to his feelings for Miss Fernside?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Pity. I was certain just one small piece of information would make me so happy, I’d be in a very accommodating mood…”

She trailed off knowingly. Silence followed, then Mrs. Shepherd giggled again.

“In that case,” Mr. Shepherd said, “I do have a bit of knowledge that might satisfy you. Have I told you about Mr. Branok standing up for Miss Fernside?”

Mrs. Shepherd gasped. “Do tell.”

Lark was certain Mr. Branok could feel her heartbeat thudding against his own as Mr. Shepherd spoke.

“It happened after dinner one evening,” he said. “Mr. Chumley was carrying on as usual, complaining for one reason or another about Miss Fernside.”

“Insufferable man,” Mrs. Shepherd muttered.

“Indeed,” Mr. Shepherd said grimly. “At any rate, most of the men allowed the words to progress. But not Mr. Branok. Not only did he compliment her humor and honesty, but he also confessed that her talent for bird observing was unmatched, even with himself. He ended with defending her honor, as well, when Mr. Dunn dared question the accuracy of her list. Needless to say, the men do not speak so unjustly about Miss Fernside any longer—especially when Mr. Branok is around.”

Mrs. Shepherd responded with an airy sigh, but Lark heard nothing else.

She frantically blinked to rid her eyes of the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

The knowledge of Mr. Branok’s defense of her was not a surprise, nor were the words he’d spoken that he’d never meant for her to hear.

Instead, they aligned with exactly who she knew him to be—the only man who would ever hold her heart.

Unable to help herself any longer, she raised her gaze to his, the movement causing a tear to slip from her eye. It trailed down the side of her features, leaving a cold path behind it.

Mr. Branok studied her, his brows turned up with emotion as he focused on her eyes, lips, then teardrop.

The air hummed around them with the crickets chirping and the distant sea’s waves rumbling, though the energy between her and Mr. Branok was the loudest of all.

“Did my information make you happy?” Mr. Shepherd said, his voice a distant echo in Lark’s mind.

“It most certainly did,” Mrs. Shepherd whispered. “But I fear I am far too frozen to do anything about it.”

“Then let us return indoors, my darling.”

“What about the bird?”

“What bird?”

She giggled, and the two of them wandered toward the house, their voices and laughter carrying on until the sounds disappeared on the air.

All the while, Lark did not step back from Mr. Branok, and Mr. Branok did not remove his hands from Lark’s arms.

Instead, they stood there, silent, staring, hearts beating wildly as their longing for each other became so palpable, Lark felt as if she could almost grasp it, never to let it go again.

That was what she wanted, for Mr. Branok to be hers. She wanted to be his wife, for him to be her husband. She wanted to spend the rest of her days in his arms, observing birds, creating challenges together, believing in each other.

And as Mr. Branok stared down at her, she could only hope that he wanted to be with her the very same. He leaned closer, his hands finally moving, sliding up her arms, cradling her neck, tipping her chin for him to better place a kiss upon her lips.

She leaned back, eyes closed, lips parted, and waited.

But a sound pierced the air, a chittering loud and long, and Lark’s eyes flew open.

She met Mr. Branok’s gaze, excitement alight within them that matched her own.

“Is that…” he began.

Her heart skipped. “The nightjar!”