Page 8

“I’m certain she will be no trouble at all, Mr. Chumley,” he reassured him, if only to prove to Miss Fernside that he was capable of behaving gentlemanly. “And as for her pursuing me, do not concern yourself. I have it on good authority that Miss Fernside has absolutely no interest in marriage.”

Mr. Chumley narrowed his eyes. “Are you acquainted with her?”

“No, it is merely…an inkling. My reliable source is merely my intuition,” he joked.

He looked back at Miss Fernside, and just as he’d hoped, a blush spread about her pale cheeks as red as a male bullfinch.

She clamped her mouth shut, blinked mutely once, then closed her book and finally moved down the pavement.

Now was Henry’s chance. He placed a hand on the gentleman’s shoulder.

“Worry not, Mr. Chumley. I am quite content riding in whatever carriage I can. I am merely happy to be here.” Mr. Chumley delivered a relieved smile before Henry continued.

“Now, you had better get into your carriage before Mrs. Chumley becomes impatient with you.”

He tossed his head, and Chumley sighed. “Quite right, quite right,” he mumbled to himself, then he entered his coach at the front of the line.

Henry didn’t miss a moment. With swift footing, he caught up with Miss Fernside, thanks to a slow-moving group who had spread themselves across the entire pavement, preventing any passing of them.

He fell in step beside Miss Fernside, but she kept her gaze focused ahead, as if she’d expected him to join her.

“Good morning,” he began. “Miss Fernside, is it?”

“It is.” She pressed her lips together before continuing, holding her book at her middle with both hands. “And you are the real Mr. Branok.”

He smiled. “I am. I must apologize for not making myself known to you sooner. And for speaking with you when we had not yet been introduced. I fear spending five years on and off away from the finer side of Society has taken its toll on me, and I took leave of my senses as I was, I admit, quite filled with excitement.”

This time, she managed a sidelong glance at him. “Because of the expedition?”

“In part. But mostly due to the fact that I have just turned in my latest book to the printers.”

Enthusiasm lit in her eyes. “Truly?” she asked before checking her interest and feigning a look of placidity. “I believe I recall Mr. Chumley mentioning you had drafted a book or two. What volume is this, then?”

He hid a smile. Had she read his work? She had called him—what were the words again, esteemed and talented?

“The eighth,” he replied.

“Oh, that is very…fine.”

He held his hands behind his back as they continued to move at a snail’s pace behind the group still meandering. They’d only just reached the beginning of the second carriage. At this rate, they wouldn’t reach Yorkshire for four days instead of three.

Not that he minded. All it meant was more time with Miss Fernside on her own. “Have you perchance read one?”

“Oh, I-I am uncertain. I read so many books about birds, it is difficult to tell one from another.”

Henry did not believe her for a moment. Still, he would allow her to keep her secret.

For now.

They finally reached the horses of the third carriage, but instead of continuing forward, Miss Fernside, to his surprise, stopped at the center of the pavement and faced him directly.

“Mr. Branok,” she began, staring at the ground between them, “before we go any farther, I must apologize for my behavior within the Chumleys’ parlor. Specifically for hushing you. I can assure you, it will not happen again, and I beg your forgiveness for offending you.”

Henry could only smile. “Allow me to set your mind at ease. You did not offend me in the slightest. It certainly was not the first time I have been hushed, and I daresay, it will not be the last.”

She eyed him for a moment, opening and closing her mouth twice without a word. Why did she stop herself from speaking now, when before, she’d voiced her opinion without hesitation?

“Was there something else you wished to say?” he pressed.

Her lips tightened, then she took a step toward him, clutching her book to her chest as if it were a breastplate that would guard her from any wayward attack.

This time, her eyes were on him squarely.

“Yes. I would like to clarify, in reference to Mr. Chumley’s words…

” She paused, her small nostrils flaring before she drew an apparent, calming breath.

“I will be neither flirtatious nor silly, but as dignified as the gentlemen attendees, if not more so. It is true that I have promised, as Mr. Chumley said, to remain invisible during this expedition, and invisible I shall be. So our time in the parlor will be the last disturbance I cause.”

She ended with a prompt nod, and once more, Henry had to hide his smile. This woman was utterly amusing, especially her concern over matters of which he hadn’t thought twice.

He did have more questions about why on earth she was required to remain invisible on the trip—and if Mr. Chumley was the one to come up with such an absurdly antiquated idea—but he set the notion of asking her aside.

There would be time for that over the coming months.

Right now, he could not, in good conscience, allow her worries to last a single moment longer.

“Thank you for your explanation,” he said. “While I cannot understand why you must remain invisible, or Mr. Chumley’s reticence in involving women on this excursion, I will apologize on his behalf and heartily welcome you—an unmarried female—on this expedition.”

Surprise spread across her features, which made Henry’s words more than worth it.

“Thank you, sir,” she sputtered.

“Of course.”

He had spoken the truth in every regard and would have said the same to Mr. Chumley, had he thought it would have made any difference at all.

Henry had known the gentleman for a few years now, but their relationship was merely a respectful friendship—no camaraderie or closeness involved—and there was a reason behind that.

Mr. Chumley was clearly of the old guard, leaving others out of his personal bird-observing community if the man—or more specifically woman —did not fit into Mr. Chumley’s mold of expectations.

That was precisely why Henry despised the gentlemen’s clubs around London. Each of them was filled with pretentious, judgmental gentlemen who spread their fastidious requirements and prevented toleration and acceptance.

Except Blackstone’s, of course.

However, while Henry could not agree with Mr. Chumley’s rulings, he would allow him his opinion, in the hope that Mr. Chumley would allow Henry to keep his own.

Seeing Miss Fernside’s appreciation made him realize all the more that his belief in welcoming all to the bird-observing community was one he would never change his mind on.

But that did not mean a little teasing could not occur.

“However,” he began again, and her features fell, “there is one more matter I wish to address.”

“And what is that?” she asked.

He delivered a small smile. “When you said you would not create another disturbance…I certainly hope that is untrue. For what is life without a little disturbance now and again?”

He thought he saw a flicker of a smile shining in her eyes, but as Mrs. Haskett’s head popped forth from within the carriage, calling after her niece, their solitude ended.

“Lark! Heavens above, there you are,” Mrs. Haskett said, stretching out her hand toward Miss Fernside, though she hardly looked concerned. “I do not know how we became separated.”

Miss Fernside approached the carriage, making ready to give her excuses, but Henry walked forward and spoke first.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Haskett, but your niece and I were held up by Mr. Chumley,” Henry said, ensuring he spoke the truth, if not all of it. “He wished to speak on a few matters.”

“Oh, that is more than fine, sir, of course,” Mrs. Haskett said with a warm smile. Her soft, graying temples and wrinkled features tempered her words further. “I believe we are to share the same carriage, Mr. Branok. Do join us.”

“With pleasure,” he responded.

She pulled inside, and Miss Fernside looked up at Henry with gratitude. He gave a subtle nod before offering her help to enter the carriage.

She stared at his hand for a moment, then accepted it graciously. Her gloved fingers, so slender and petite, curved around his, fitting so effortlessly in his hand that his heart responded with a soft pattering.

He quickly put it back in its place. There would be no time for such nonsense, no matter how enticing the feeling.

When it was his turn to enter the carriage, he removed his hat and ducked inside, realizing a half a second later that each spot was taken, apart from the backward-facing seat beside Miss Fernside.

She glanced at him, then quickly averted her gaze, as if she’d only now just realized the same as he did.

He had sat next to handsome women before this—though admittedly not as beautiful as Miss Fernside. There was nothing to be done but enjoy himself.

He settled upon his cushioned seat, then faced Mr. and Mrs. Haskett with a smile. “I do trust you will forgive my intrusion on what might have been a family affair.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Haskett responded. He boasted a high brow and tight lips with an overall no-nonsense air about him.

Still, his smile was welcoming enough. “We hope you do not mind sitting with your back to the horses, sir. I fear my wife and I become quite plagued with illness when we ride in any carriage, but facing forward seems to help to a degree.”

“I am sorry to hear about your illness,” Henry responded. Now the seating arrangement made perfect sense. “But worry not. I suffer with no such malady.”

He settled deeper into his seat, aware of Miss Fernside slightly shifting farther away from him, as if she feared them touching.

He turned his eyes toward her, though was careful to keep his legs pointed away. “I assume you do not suffer from the same illness as your aunt and uncle, Miss Fernside?”

She held her book on her lap, her gloved hands gracefully folded atop the dark leather cover. “No, fortunately, I do not,” she replied.

“I suppose it is a very good thing you do not have such an illness, Mr. Branok,” Mrs. Haskett began. “Or you would be very miserable, indeed, on so many of your excursions.”

“Oh, yes,” Henry said. “However, I will admit to becoming quite unwell a time or two during particularly stormy days. There is nothing quite like traveling across an angry sea.”

“Do tell,” Mr. Haskett said. “We have all been waiting to hear more of your trip to…where was it again?”

“The West Indies, sir.”

“Ah, yes. We would love to hear all about your travels.”

Would they—including Miss Fernside?

Before he could say a word in response, a footman secured the door closed, and a moment later, the carriage jerked forward, causing the four of them to sway back and forth in their seats as the clip-clop of horse hooves and the rumbling of carriage wheels filled the air.

“And so we begin,” Mrs. Haskett said, looking at her niece with bright eyes.

Henry glanced at Miss Fernside just in time to see her grinning in return, and he was struck with the ethereal beauty of her natural smile that changed her features from fine and regal to soft, approachable, and dazzling.

And he had the woman and her family all to himself. His parents were certainly looking out for him from up above.