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When put so plainly, she couldn’t deny it. She did believe that he cared what she thought. Ever since they’d first met, he’d listened to her and welcomed her conversation. He was the first man, aside from Father and Uncle, who genuinely seemed interested in what she had to say.

But she still couldn’t comprehend why.

“I believe you,” she responded. “But I cannot understand it.”

“You cannot understand what?”

“Why my opinion matters to you.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Because you matter to me, Miss Fernside.” He drew a step closer, his softened features just visible in the light of the moon slipping through the trees. “I cannot tell you how I have missed your company and your friendship. I have spent the last fortnight crushed, knowing how poorly you must think of me, and I cannot bear to live another moment without at least attempting to modify those thoughts.”

His words filled every bit of her. Her defenses dispelled, making room for a poignant twinge of regret at not allowing herself to listen to him before now.

She’d promised Uncle she wouldn’t, but what good had that done? Uncle was still filled with fear concerning Mr. Branok, Mr. Branok had clearly been hurt by her actions, and Lark? Lark was more miserable than ever because she was being told what to do and what to think again.

From the moment she’d met Mr. Branok, she’d been unapologetically herself—snapping at him, correcting him, and speaking her mind—and he had responded in stride, unafraid to speak the truth back but always willing to apologize when he had been in the wrong.

And, despite it all, he still accepted her. He still wished to be near her. He had been nothing but honorable and gentlemanly from the start.

And Lark was tired of being told to believe otherwise.

“I will leave you if you still wish it,” Mr. Branok said, taking her silence as a dismissal.

But she shook her head. “No, I should like to listen to what you have to say. In truth, I have wanted to do so for weeks.”

He hesitated. “Forgive me, but if that is true, why did you not allow me to do so before now?”

Ashamed, she hung her head. “I was confused. And fearful. Uncle said many things.”

“About my alleged friendship with Mr. Drake? Or about why I was blackballed?”

“Both,” she admitted. “I was afraid that everything Uncle said was true.”

Mr. Branok was silent for a moment. “Was afraid?”

“Yes.” She raised her chin. “No matter what the truth is, no matter what Uncle says, no matter how you vex me…I cannot think poorly of you, Mr. Branok.”

His lips formed into a small smile. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that, Miss Fernside. However, I should like to address your concerns if you are so inclined.”

She nodded in silence. She was more than inclined—she was ready.

Mr. Branok drew a deep breath. “Firstly, concerning Mr. Drake—I have not spoken with the gentleman above a handful of times. After you left us at the ball, he admitted to his proposal, and while I do not know his reasons behind his actions, he appeared truly regretful for causing you any discomfort.”

A soothing warmth wrapped round Lark’s heart at the words. She had already forgiven Mr. Drake’s actions. But now…she was healing from Mr. Drake’s actions.

“Until that evening,” Mr. Branok continued, “I was entirely unaware of his desire to marry money—and entirely unaware of his connection to you.”

Further peace seeped through Lark’s limbs. She’d known the truth all along, but hearing the words from his mouth was more than validating—it was comforting.

“As for why I was blackballed,” Mr. Branok continued, “I should have told you from the start. But I was frightened of admitting to my behavior, afraid that I might disappoint you. I can only assume now that you have heard of the articles.”

Lark held her breath unconsciously, nodding. So he had done something—something that might disappoint her. But could his actions be as bad as Uncle had said, spreading false rumors and injuring others?

At once, she pushed the worrisome thoughts away. She was finished listening to words born from fear and mistrust. Instead, she would listen to her heart, to the words that brought peace to her mind—for that was how truth was distinguishable from lies.

And being around Mr. Branok always brought peace to her life.

“I did write the articles,” he began softly. “There is no excuse for my penning them, but I will say that I was young, my parents had only just died, and I was in a very dark place. You recall me telling you how my friend was denied membership to White’s, resulting in me losing all desire to join myself?”