Page 11

“Finally,” Mr. Chumley said, his voice distant in her embarrassed haze, “a man who needs no introduction, our wonderful guest of honor, Mr. Henry Branok.”

The group clapped, but Lark was so stunned, she could not move. The gentleman—the real Henry Branok—grinned as he bowed in response, his eyes sparkling with delight.

“Come, join me at the front of the room, sir,” Mr. Chumley invited.

Mr. Branok nodded, moving a step forward before seeming to think better of it and glancing back down at Lark. He took a subtle step toward her, clearly ignoring all propriety and caring not an ounce of what others might say as he shifted closer.

With barely moving lips, he whispered, “I did try to tell you who I was. But you were right about one thing…I certainly do not take bird observing very seriously.”

With a twinkle in his eye, he moved to the front of the still-applauding group, running a hand through his thick, dark blond strands.

Lark was left behind to suffer with burning cheeks and limping pride as she contemplated how she would ever be able to show her face around Mr. Branok again.

What a nightmare.

Aunt Harriet gently tapped against Lark’s arm, and Lark bent down to level her ear with her seated aunt.

“He is Mr. Branok?” Aunt whispered, her dark eyes focused on him as he reached Mr. Chumley.

The gentlemen clasped hands with friendly smiles.

“Apparently,” Lark responded.

“But he is so very young to have accomplished so much, is he not?”

“He is,” Lark said.

Which was precisely why she had guessed Mr. Dunn to be Mr. Branok instead. Writing novels, receiving awards, exploring the world—achieving so much at what could only be eight and twenty? He was so very capable.

And Lark had shushed him like a schoolboy. She had accused him of not being serious in his bird observations.

An ache in her brow pulsed.

“What did he say to you before he left just now?” Aunt asked next.

Lark hesitated, swallowing hard. “Oh…He simply apologized for the disruption his late arrival caused.”

Aunt nodded, leaning back as she seemed to accept Lark’s falsehood.

Lark straightened, guilt poking at her conscience.

She wanted to tell the truth, but she would not reveal a word about what she’d said to him. She was far too humiliated to admit her actions aloud. Especially when she’d so wrongfully assumed that he’d been seeking her marital status due to being interested in her fortune. He was obviously simply curious that she was a single female on an excursion, that was all.

She gritted her teeth. This was all Mr. Drake’s doing. Lark had been on edge ever since his swift and loveless proposal. Had it not been for Mr. Drake dredging up her past—reminding her of the last time she’d been proposed to—she never would have assumed something so unjust of Mr. Branok.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Chumley said, motioning to Mr. Branok, “I must share with you how often I have attempted to coerce Mr. Branok to join me on an expedition around England. He leaves our fair country so often, it has taken me years to find a time for him to finally be here. Is it not wonderful to have him join us? We shall surely be educationally fed by him over the next two months.”

The group clapped, and Lark did her best to join in, though her limbs had grown weak due to the distinct depletion of energy she was still overcoming from her mistake.

Mr. Branok—the real Mr. Branok—clasped his hands behind his back and smiled around the room. “Thank you all so much for your warm welcome,” he said, his voice deep and rich as opposed to when he’d whispered. “While I cannot claim to be a master in the art of observation, I have experienced a great deal over the years in relation to viewing birds that I will be happy to share with you. I do hope, however, that we may learn from one another as we delight in observing God’s beautiful creatures together.”

The group clapped again, and this time, his eyes landed on Lark’s. She could have sworn she’d seen them sparkling once more, but she looked away, unwilling to acknowledge the interaction that had already taken place between them.

How was she to behave around him? If he was old and married like Mr. Dunn, she could have easily told him how she admired his writing and wished for his signature to be on each of his volumes of work she’d brought with her.

But now that she was so painfully aware of how he was young and handsome—and single? He had not brought a wife with him. Either way, saying such things would hardly be proper. Suppose he thought her too forward? That she was attempting to express a certain fondness for him? Although, she had no notion how he could think such things, especially after she’d explained her desire to remain unmarried.

She chewed on her lower lip, the pinching above her brow growing steadily stronger.