Page 3

Excursion appointed and fully funded by

Egbert Percival Ptolemy, Viscount Blackstone

Naturalist

Lord Blackstone had never read one of Henry’s books. He only ever saw his name on the title page before signing off on the proofs, so Henry liked to make him work for it. The man was obviously more inclined to appreciate the acclaim he received for funding expeditions—as the king did—than he was to appreciate breathing birds.

Henry didn’t really mind. After all, his traveling, researching, observing, and writing was for individuals who loved birds. Living birds.

But Henry would accept whatever mere glance at his words Lord Blackstone could muster, so long as the viscount continued to send Henry all over the world, using contacts and connections to observe more birds and to print books faster than Henry ever could himself.

All he had to do was get past his own loathing for the man’s dead animal obsession, and he would last another decade or so doing this very thing. At any rate, Henry was advancing the understanding of living animals with each book he finished. That was worth any sacrifice needed, as far as he was concerned.

“Very fine work,” Lord Blackstone said, admiring his own name written in big, bold letters—one of his requirements.

“If you remain in my special club, devote the entirety of your attention to these excursions, and attribute your findings to me, I shall send you all over the world,” he’d said five years before.

They’d both made good on their promises.

“All is accurate and in order?” Lord Blackstone asked next, slipping the title page to the front of the papers. “A full account of your findings?”

“Yes,” Henry replied. He cleared his throat, glancing again at the window.

“Excellent,” Lord Blackstone said. “Everything appears in order on my end.”

He dipped his pen in his ink well, slid the tip on the edge of the glass container, then signed the front page to send the proof back to the printers.

Henry felt a weight lifted from his shoulders.

Book eight, complete.

He accepted the pages and slid them back into his satchel. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Thank you, Branok,” Lord Blackstone said, lacing his fingers on his desk and leaning back. “So what is next for you? Rest, I trust?”

“Not quite. I have been requested by an acquaintance, Mr. Chumley, to join an excursion across England over the coming months. We leave this morning.”

“Indeed? The very wilds of England. How ever shall you manage such excitement?”

Henry laughed, thinking Lord Blackstone had made a joke, but he realized all too late the viscount did not possess the wit. Instead, his wide, round eyes were as blank as the rabbit perched behind him.

Henry cleared his throat. “Oh, well, I…That is to say, I shall take it day by day, I suppose.”

That wasn’t too far from the truth. He’d spent the last five years exploring Greenland, Europe, South Africa, the Americas, the East Indies, and now the West Indies. He’d experienced nearly every sort of weather, observed countless animals and peculiar birds, and witnessed vast cultures.

And now…now, for the first time he would be crossing England with a group of inexperienced individuals who merely dabbled in observation.

He would either be terribly bored or entirely unfit to lead such rabble. Only time would tell.

“I must take my leave now,” Henry continued. “I fear I am already late.”

“Oh, but of course. Allow me to see you out.”

“No, please⁠—”

“I insist.”

Henry hid a grimace, knowing what was coming next.