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“We are far beyond that now,” he said, his voice husky. “Henry.”

The ache in her heart caused her to wince. “I…I don’t think⁠—”

“Marry me.”

Lark stared, stunned. “What?” she breathed.

“Marry me,” he stated more firmly, his eyes caressing every inch of her features. “I know what you said before, that you don’t wish to wed, that you don’t want your life dictated by another. But I swear right now if you’ll be my wife, you will want for nothing, and that includes freedom. Freedom to explore whatever part of the world you wish to. Freedom to remain home should you wish it. Freedom to command me to remain at home. Anything you desire, it shall be yours. Even, and especially, my love for you.”

Tears sprung to her eyes. This was everything she’d ever wanted. A gentleman to love her, to provide for her, to be her everything. For she was willing to be the same for him. She would have gladly given up her decision to remain single. She would have gladly remained at home to wait for his return from his exhibitions.

But then, that was just it. If he married her, there would be no more exhibitions. There would be no more published books. There would be no more fulfillment of his dreams to travel to India. She could use her fortune to get him there, but then what? They had no connections, no permissions, and no knowledge of how it all worked.

He’d said it himself weeks before. If he married, he would be forced to give up everything.

Lark knew what it was like to give up a part of herself for someone. That was why she could not have Mr. Branok do the same.

At the realization of what she was about to do, fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she forced out with a broken whisper. “But I cannot marry you.”

She tried to pull her hands from his, but he held steadfast, his eyes steady. “Because of your promise to remain unwed?”

“No. Because of another promise I made long ago. That I would never ask anyone to give up who they are for me.”

“Traveling for excursions is not all of who I am,” he said at once.

“But it makes up such a large part of who you are. I could never take that away from you.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” he said firmly. “I would be giving it up on my own.”

But she shook her head. “You can’t. I would never forgive myself. I would always feel as if some part of you regretted leaving the opportunities you have now, and we…we could never be happy because of it.”

The words were like daggers to her own heart. She could only pray they wouldn’t be to his. And yet, she needed to be truthful. She needed reality to settle between them to make things easier when he left for India to fulfill more of his dreams and she never saw him again.

The silence between them stifled the air, and only then did she realize the absence of the nightjar’s chittering.

“Forgive me, Mr. Branok,” she said with finality, pulling her hands from his as she stepped away from him. “I can’t go through with it.”

“Do you love me, Lark?”

Her name on his lips, the question on his voice, made her pause. He stared at her with patience, but she couldn’t answer, for if she spoke at all, she would speak the truth.

Instead, she turned around and fled through the trees, ignoring his calling out for her, ignoring the pain he must have felt, and praying Heaven guided her steps through the darkness—as well as through the rest of her life as she now tried to figure out how exactly she was going to live without Henry Branok by her side.

Chapter 36

Cornwall – June 3, 1817

Henry awoke the next morning, not ready to face the day. Of course his lack of sleep and the discouraging thoughts that plagued his mind hadn’t helped matters, but more than anything, he was crushed due to the simple fact that Miss Fernside loved him, but she still would not be with him.

He didn’t blame her for her refusal. The proposal had been too sudden. There had been no notice, no romantic words, no promises or plans for their future—even though he had them all. Instead, he’d been caught up in the moment, unwilling to wait a single second longer to begin their life together. But how he regretted his hastiness.

He’d prayed a good night’s rest would have helped to change Miss Fernside’s mind, but when she didn’t appear for breakfast nor at one of his final morning classes, he knew she was avoiding him again.

“Can we expect your niece to be down soon?” he asked Mrs. Haskett as the group gathered in the gardens, a large tent and chairs having been set up for their comfort. “I am happy to wait for her.”

“She is feeling excessively tired this morning, I fear,” Mrs. Haskett responded quietly with a fleeting glance at her husband, who stood across the grass speaking with Mr. Dunn. “I do wonder if she’s merely resting now to be ready to find that nightjar this evening.”

Henry forced an innocent smile.