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“I was happy to wait,” Henry responded.

He shifted an inch to the right to better see Miss Fernside, who had wandered closer to the carriages, half-hidden behind the open door of the first coach. Mr. Chumley had walked right by without noticing her. And what of the Hasketts? Were they aware of their niece’s absence, or were they used to her doing such things?

Mr. Chumley spoke again. “I wanted you to wait so that I might ask your feelings on the carriage arrangements.”

“Oh, of course I am happy to travel in whatever carriage you allot me.”

Blast. Was the man attempting to alter the arrangements? Henry had been looking forward to being with Miss Fernside.

He glanced at the woman, her eyes shifting from the bird to the book, then back again. Could she hear their conversation? Or was she too transfixed with the house sparrow?

“Are you certain?” Mr. Chumley pressed. “I would not wish for you to feel as if you were an afterthought in the last carriage. I assure you, a great deal of care was given to the arrangements, but, to put it frankly, Miss Fernside’s presence has complicated matters to the highest degree.”

At the mention of her name, Miss Fernside snapped her hazel eyes to Mr. Chumley’s, peering at him coolly from around the carriage door. When she noticed Henry observing her in return, however, she blushed and swiftly restored her attention to her book.

He anticipated her departure, but she remained planted to her spot. Did she wish to remain there in case she needed to jump to her own defense? Or was she really that determined to finish her recording of the house sparrow?

“You see,” Mr. Chumley continued in a level tone, so clearly taken with his own concerns that he did not seem to notice Henry’s roving eyes, “I could not separate the Kay brothers, and Mr. Dunn and Mr. Gibbon have struck up a recent friendship, so they requested to sit with one another. My wife”—he broke off with a sigh—“she has need of riding with her dear friend Mrs. Shepherd, who must be with Mr. Shepherd. And with Miss Fernside needing to be with her chaperones, that left only a single spot more…”

He trailed off, clearly troubled with the whole affair as he wiped small beads of sweat from beneath the curls pressed against his brow. “I tell you, the next excursion I conduct shall only include gentlemen. Women have no place on these sorts of things. They only complicate matters in the most infuriating manner—my wife more so than anyone.”

With another flick of his gaze, Henry found Miss Fernside’s frown growing, this time her lips parting in indignation as she glowered at Mr. Chumley. With another look at Henry, she stared again at her book.

Henry could only imagine the great deal of restraint she had to be practicing to not blast Mr. Chumley right then and there. Honestly, Henry supposed he ought to say something himself in response to the man’s obvious frustrations, but with the look of ire across Miss Fernside’s features—her petite nose wrinkling in disgust and almond-shaped eyes narrowed—he quite forgot to respond at all.

“I swear, Mr. Branok,” Mr. Chumley continued, straightening his waistcoat, “you are the wisest man I know simply due to your decision to remain single.”

How Henry longed to look at Miss Fernside now. But he kept his eyes on Mr. Chumley, not wishing for the gentleman to discover the eavesdropper. Not only would Mr. Chumley question Henry for not warning him of her presence—but Henry wasn’t entirely sure he had an answer to satisfy him.

He supposed he kept her presence to himself because he was merely curious to see what the woman might do next.

“At any rate,” Mr. Chumley finally finished, “please tell me if any issue arises with your riding with the Hasketts and Miss Fernside. I have been assured that she shall be veritably imperceptible, but…” He glanced from left to right—omitting looking backward toward Miss Fernside. “I do fear, as she is unmarried, that she may begin to conduct herself as other young ladies do around amiable gentlemen such as yourself. Silly and flirtatious, you know. If this occurs, do alert me, and I shall deal with the matter straightaway.”

Henry had thought the entire situation mildly humorous before. Now? He had to stop himself from laughing at Miss Fernside’s mouth fully dropping open in utter astonishment.

“I’m certain she will be no trouble at all, Mr. Chumley,” he reassured him, if only to prove to Miss Fernside that he was capable of behaving gentlemanly. “And as for her pursuing me, do not concern yourself. I have it on good authority that Miss Fernside has absolutely no interest in marriage.”

Mr. Chumley narrowed his eyes. “Are you acquainted with her?”

“No, it is merely…an inkling. My reliable source is merely my intuition,” he joked.

He looked back at Miss Fernside, and just as he’d hoped, a blush spread about her pale cheeks as red as a male bullfinch.

She clamped her mouth shut, blinked mutely once, then closed her book and finally moved down the pavement.

Now was Henry’s chance. He placed a hand on the gentleman’s shoulder. “Worry not, Mr. Chumley. I am quite content riding in whatever carriage I can. I am merely happy to be here.” Mr. Chumley delivered a relieved smile before Henry continued. “Now, you had better get into your carriage before Mrs. Chumley becomes impatient with you.”

He tossed his head, and Chumley sighed. “Quite right, quite right,” he mumbled to himself, then he entered his coach at the front of the line.

Henry didn’t miss a moment. With swift footing, he caught up with Miss Fernside, thanks to a slow-moving group who had spread themselves across the entire pavement, preventing any passing of them.

He fell in step beside Miss Fernside, but she kept her gaze focused ahead, as if she’d expected him to join her.

“Good morning,” he began. “Miss Fernside, is it?”

“It is.” She pressed her lips together before continuing, holding her book at her middle with both hands. “And you are the real Mr. Branok.”

He smiled. “I am. I must apologize for not making myself known to you sooner. And for speaking with you when we had not yet been introduced. I fear spending five years on and off away from the finer side of Society has taken its toll on me, and I took leave of my senses as I was, I admit, quite filled with excitement.”