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“You mean to see who shall win the title of ‘Best Bird Observer in All of England’?” She gave him a knowing look. “Sir, we have signed a binding agreement. Of course we shall carry on. The full two weeks now, as first discussed.”

“Excellent,” he said. “And we needn’t make any changes due to our impending marital status?”

“No, I think all is in order still.” She gave him a sidelong stare. “Unless you intend to distract me, in which case, we shall have to add another rule.”

“However could I distract you?” he asked innocently, though the glimmer in his eyes told her he knew exactly how he could—and would.

“We really should return to the others now,” she said.

His wink sent her heart into a frenzy, but she welcomed it.

For as she faced the carriage—Aunt Harriet and the others rushing forth from the door to join Lark and Henry with open arms and happy tears—Lark knew that perfect joy she now experienced was only a small taste of what was to come.

And she couldn’t wait to experience the rest.

Epilogue

Cornwall – June 15, 1817

“Are you certain you’re ready?” Henry asked.

Lark held her book behind her back, her finger holding the right location in the pages. “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m ready.”

She faced her betrothed—her betrothed—who held his own book behind his back as they stood upon Tregalwen Beach. They’d already lagged behind the others, the rest of the party following common sandpipers and charming dunlins seeking mollusks in the sand.

Days before, the party had congratulated them as a whole upon their return to Gwynnrudh, though some were more enthusiastic than others. Mr. Dunn had given a grunt of approval, and Mr. Chumley, well, his wife very clearly pressed him to speak at all.

“What shall we gift them for their engagement?” Mrs. Chumley had said at once. “Oh, it must be something related to birds.”

“Perhaps Mr. Chumley would consider returning the cost of my extra entry to the excursion,” Lark had whispered into Henry’s ear.

He’d responded with a questioning look.

“I shall tell you later,” she’d said, smiling to herself.

Uncle had remained in the background, excusing himself without saying a word. Lark had spoken to him in private often since then, and Henry, too. While Uncle was still unsure, fearful, and rather stiff, Lark had every confidence that he would most certainly come around one day.

Even now, he wasn’t watching them like a kestrel as he’d been apt to do the last few weeks. Instead, he focused harder on the gulls circling above.

A storm was blowing in, dark clouds looming ever closer to the tanned lighthouse in the distance, Golowduyn already shining its beacon out at sea. But none of them could resist being outside one last time in search of birds. Today was their final night in Cornwall, and tomorrow, they would be headed back to London, their excursion finally completed.

That meant one thing. She and Henry needed to see who had won their challenge.

“On the count of three, we reveal our number,” he said.

She nodded with approval.

“And whoever wins receives the title,” he continued. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Lark said.

Henry narrowed his eyes, facing her as if they were about to duel. “Right. Three, two, one.”

At the same time, they revealed their books, opened to the correct page, and showed each other their number. Lark stared in stunned silence.

“Congratulations, Miss Fernside,” Henry said, a smile on his voice. “Or should I say, Congratulations, Best Bird Observer in All of England?”

There had to be some mistake. Lark could not have won. But as she read the numbers again, there was no denying it.