Page 27

“Think of Lark, my dear,” Uncle Francis responded in a whisper he clearly did not think Lark could hear.

Lark looked away, pretending as if she had not heard them, though her guilt was acute.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Chumley said, stopping a few steps up to be heard by them all, “welcome to Deryn Park, your home for the next fortnight.”

He paused, allowing the group to respond as they modestly clapped, far less enthusiastically than they had at the beginning of the trip. Clearly, the journey had taken its toll on everyone—and not just the women, as Lark was quick to spot. Mr. Dunn had dark rings beneath his eyes and one of the redheaded brothers stifled a yawn.

“Now, I know we are all quite spent,” Mr. Chumley continued, “but I assure you, you shall have rest soon. First, we will show each of you to your rooms where you will be greeted by certainly the most comfortable beds of your existence. If you can manage to remove yourselves from your bedchambers, dinner will be served this evening, and I promise you a warm meal, matched only by our pleasant conversation. Furthermore, you shall have plenty of time to rest tomorrow, as I have promised Mrs. Chumley I shall not begin the excursion until ten o’clock in the morning.”

Lark stifled her rising disappointment. They were going to sacrifice an entire morning simply to recover from traveling? Stuff and nonsense. At least Aunt would appreciate the chance to recover.

“Now,” Mr. Chumley continued, “let us show you to your rooms. Mrs. Chumley?”

He motioned for his wife to join him in leading the party up the stairs, and the others followed close behind. Lark fell in step after Uncle and Aunt, eyeing the sheer height of the home as she craned her neck to see the top pillars. As she did so, she caught sight of a bird flying just above the roofing.

Ah, a dunnock. She recognized his song. He would most certainly be going on her list—and the list she would begin anew for her competition with Mr. Branok. The man had no idea what he was up against. He was⁠—

“Oof,” she grunted as she came face-to-face with Uncle’s back, having been too distracted with the bird to have noticed him pausing on his way up the stairs.

She teetered backward from her collision, attempting to catch her balance as her hands flew out to the side of her. A flash of fear struck through her person as her brain told her where she was destined to fall.

Instead, strong fingers wrapped around her upper arms from behind, settling her back onto the step and holding her securely in place as she regained her bearings.

“Good heavens,” Uncle said, turning round to face her with a startled expression. “My dear Lark, are you well?”

Lark stared dazedly at Uncle with a silent nod, the warm fingers remaining around her arms.

Uncle Francis’s eyes skimmed beyond her shoulder. “Thank heavens you were there, Mr. Branok.”

Mr. Branok.

She breathed. His hands were the ones steadying her. He had been the one to have saved her from surely falling down the steps and perhaps ending the excursion for her before it had even begun.

His hands remained around her arms, warmth swirling from his fingertips and straight to her core. When had he moved behind her?

“It is no trouble, of course, Mr. Haskett,” Mr. Branok responded, his deep voice reverberating through her ears.

“It is that dratted carriage weakening our limbs,” Aunt commented, having stopped on the step above Uncle, her soft brows drawn together. “Are you well, niece?”

“Yes,” Lark responded. “Yes, I am quite well. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Perhaps you ought to hold your uncle’s arm,” Aunt suggested.

Lark nodded, taking a step forward and removing herself from Mr. Branok’s touch. A coldness replaced the warmth of his fingers, wrapping around her arms in unpleasant strands.

“Thank you again, sir,” Uncle said over his shoulder toward Mr. Branok.

Lark chewed her lower lip. She ought to thank Mr. Branok, too, but she shuddered to think of the teasing smile that would be on his lips.

Still, she did not wish to appear ungracious. So, as she continued up the steps with Uncle’s guiding arm beneath her hand, she looked back at him.

Instead of that teasing glimmer in his eye, he simply smiled at her, then mouthed out while pointing up at the sky, “Bird one—dunnock.”

Then he winked and made his way up the steps without another glance in her direction.

Winking at her, teasing her, creating challenges she agreed not to tell her family about…The man was a complete scoundrel.

She couldn’t wait to interact with him again.