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“Go on,” a whisper sounded from within the carriage, a hand slinking forth to push Lark forward.

She took two steps, allowing just enough space for the footman to move behind her and lean toward the door, clearly beckoned by whoever was inside.

He nodded, closed the door, then moved to Henry’s horse. “Sir,” he said, bowing as he took the reins, tied them to the carriage, and tapped for the coach to move ahead.

All the while, Lark didn’t drop her gaze from Henry’s, not even when the carriage rode forward, leaving the two of them alone.

Obviously, whoever was within the coach—Mrs. Haskett, perhaps?—had requested the coach to be pulled ahead, but then…why?

Lark spoke before he could concoct an answer. “Where are you going?”

Henry paused. She didn’t know already? “Why, back to Gwynnrudh.”

Her brow pursed. “You are not going to London?”

“London? No, I was not to leave until Friday.”

“But my uncle said…”

Realization dawned. Henry should have known Mr. Haskett would have muddled this. “We spoke after dinner,” he explained. “He assumed I was headed to London, and I, in my pettiness, chose not to correct him.” He dropped his gaze. “You must forgive me for arguing with him. He did see me leave, but I was merely on my way to post a letter.”

“A letter,” she repeated.

So she wasn’t concerned with the argument, then. He couldn’t deny his relief.

The carriage’s departing wheels quieted, and he looked beyond Lark to see the coach stopped at the bend in the road, allowing them privacy.

A shadow moved across the back window of the carriage, then another, and he narrowed his eyes. “Who has accompanied you?”

Please, let it not be Mr. Haskett.

“My aunt, Mrs. Chumley, and Mrs. Shepherd.”

Henry pulled back in surprise, having not expected the trio. They were better than anyone else in the party, however. Had Mr. Haskett come, he would already have challenged Henry to a duel.

But then, why were they there?

Henry had a hope, but he needed to be absolutely certain before he could proceed.

“Where exactly were the four of you headed? And in such a rush, no less.”

Lark chewed on her lower lip. “Well.” She broke off with a sigh and averted her gaze. “To be honest, we were…coming after you.”

His heart thumped against his chest. “And why would you do that?”

She gave a sigh of long-suffering, obviously wishing to end her discomfort. “I’m sure you can decipher that for yourself, Mr. Branok.”

“I’m sure I could. But even still, I should like to hear the words come from your own mouth. Plus, I do enjoy seeing you blush.”

She pulled in her lips to hide a smile, and sure enough, her cheeks pinked.

The breeze from the sea below blew strands of hair across her smooth brow, and the light of the setting sun caused a halo to glow around her golden hair.

“Very well,” she finally said, her voice smooth as she gave in. She drew a deep breath, then continued. “I feared you would leave for London—for India—before I could…before I could tell you that you must still go on the excursion and all future excursions for Lord Blackstone.”

Henry waited with bated breath. This was not what he’d been expecting. He only had his prayers to rely upon now.

“But,” she continued, “this time, you shall have someone waiting for you.”