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Except while on this tour…all thanks to Mr. Chumley.

She puffed out a breath of air as they moved through his fine townhouse. The next two months would be a test on her will, and that was putting it lightly. She hadn’t even made it through Mr. Chumley’s introductions without scolding his guest of honor.

But that was in the past. She would move forward, apologize to Mr. Branok for her discourteous words, reservedly express her enjoyment of his books, and then spend the rest of the expedition observing birds in silence and not dwelling a single moment more on Mr. Branok and his sparkling blue eyes.

And yet, just as she was beginning to be certain she could fulfill these goals, she caught Mr. Branok looking over his shoulder at her, and she realized with a skipping heart that those goals had been lofty at best.

Chapter 5

Henry had a mind to ask the Chumleys to excuse him so that he might walk beside Miss Fernside and tease her again. He wanted to bring out that lovely blush he’d witnessed earlier across her high cheekbones. But when he looked back at her over his shoulder through the Chumleys’ corridors, spotting her cheeks pinking instantly, he faced forward again with a satisfied smile.

He supposed a look was all it took, then.

It was just as well. Thanks to the Chumleys’ carriage arrangements, he would have all the time he needed to get to know the woman better.

He followed the Chumleys as they led the party through the entryway and out the front doors held open by a footman standing at attention.

Henry drew in a deep breath of the cool weather. The air was smokier here compared to the West Indies—at least where he’d done most of his observations—but it was far crisper than Lord Blackstone’s office. And while he wasn’t used to living again in the smoke and bustle of London, far preferring the countryside, he had to admit the city had a charm of its own.

The streets were already filled with carriages rumbling and rattling their ways across the cobblestones, and the pavement was constantly marked with passersby—couples meandering from their fine townhouses, mothers and daughters skittering toward newly opened shops, and friends whispering to one another of whatever the latest gossip was amidst the ton.

The energy here was contagious, but he could not deny how he longed for the peace he’d grown used to in nature—the peace he craved more than anything now. As such, his attention was soon arrested by the sight of the six large coaches lined up before and beyond the Chumleys’ home.

Each privately hired equipage was of the finest caliber with black leather tops and polished wooden bases, pulled by matching pairs of dashing, black horses. The trunks and bags of each attendee were already secured behind each coach, and the help stood by in their finest livery, ready to accompany the party within the final three carriages all the way to Yorkshire.

The sight was grand, indeed, and more than a few spectators paused to glance curiously at the twelve individuals gathered on the pavement with smiles and excited chatter.

Henry, too, felt that initial hum of excitement that always appeared at the beginning of an excursion. In truth, he hadn’t expected the feeling for this trip, so he was more than pleasantly surprised as his level of enthusiasm matched the others. He was grateful he’d powered through his initial inhibitions and kept his commitment. This already had the promise of being quite the memorable experience.

“Mr. Branok,” Mr. Chumley said, pulling Henry from his thoughts, “would you mind waiting a moment? I’d like a quick word if we can manage it.”

“Of course,” Henry immediately agreed, standing near the edge of the pavement and away from the carriages to allow others to pass him by.

Mr. Chumley nodded his gratitude, then redirected his attention to the rest of his party, maneuvering through the busy crowds as he moved from person to person to show them which carriage was theirs and which ones belonged to the servants.

Henry watched him for a moment before catching sight of Miss Fernside. She walked behind Mr. and Mrs. Haskett, heading in the direction of the third coach—theirs and Henry’s—before she paused and looked at the grand plane trees across the street.

Her aunt and uncle carried on, but Miss Fernside remained still, opening a leatherbound book and scribbling away at the paper with a small pencil.

Henry glanced up to see what had caught her eye, discovering a house sparrow chirping away within the trees, its brown and grey feathers barely visible through the thick green foliage.

Miss Fernside appeared very excited about the sighting, continuing with what he could only assume was a sketch as she remained entirely unaware of her aunt and uncle moving toward their carriage.

Henry could not stop his smile. The bird was nothing special—more common than anything. Yet, still, she found it necessary to make note of it. It was all rather endearing. Just as it was when she’d mistaken him for the bald gentleman in front of them.

He grinned at the thought of her words.

“I will save you and I both the time and embarrassment by informing you that I intend to never have a husband.”

And then, “I should hate to upset him more due to the incessant whispering of a gentleman who clearly does not take bird observing very seriously.”

Never had he known a woman to speak so plainly. It was refreshing. And the fact that she was an unmarried, female—and clearly enthusiastic—bird observer? She certainly was unique, not to mention stunning in her physical features, as well.

He couldn’t help but wonder more about her—why her aunt and uncle accompanied her instead of her parents, why she’d chosen to remain unmarried, and how much she truly knew about bird observation.

Perhaps he would do a bit of digging on their journey over the next three days. Although, with how readily she’d distributed the information he already did know, perhaps digging wouldn’t even be necessary.

“I do apologize for keeping you waiting, Mr. Branok,” Mr. Chumley said, coming up to stand directly in Henry’s line of sight.