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He grinned, seeming to take great pleasure in her teasing. “You had better be on time, or I just might make an example out of you.”

“I have been warned,” she said, then she curtsied, turned on the heel of her half-boot, and walked away.

She felt his eyes remain on her, but she forced herself to keep her eyes focused ahead as she contemplated what on earth had just happened between her and Mr. Branok—for her admiration was swiftly shifting from his writing…to who he was as a person.

And she wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

Chapter 10

Henry didn’t feel as anxious teaching his first class as he probably ought to have. Before the excursion, he’d been rather unsettled at the idea of instructing a group of individuals how to seek birds in a location in which he had never really explored himself.

Now, however, standing before the eleven gathering members of the excursion party in Deryn Park’s conservatory, he felt quite at ease. The group was split up and seated in three rows of four chairs, with plants, trees, and flowers framing the aisle they stretched down. The room was two stories high with glass ceilings and ivy crawling up the interior archways, creating the feel of being out of doors.

The eyes of each individual peered up at him as they entered the space, and he smiled in a calm matter. He’d expected a small amount of nerves for his first teaching experience, but his confidence was bright.

None of these people were experts, nor had any of them traveled outside of England before. The Kay brothers, Mr. Gibbon, and Mr. Chumley were eager to learn, and the Hasketts, Shepherds, and Mrs. Chumley were simply there for entertainment. Mr. Dunn appeared to be the most knowledgeable out of the group, though even he seemed ready to listen.

And then there was Miss Fernside.

She took a seat in the back row beside her aunt, Miss Fernside’s eyes focused on her book without a glance in his direction. Did she not meet his gaze on purpose? Knowing her, she did everything on purpose. That simply made him like her all the more.

Still, he had yet to decipher if she was as talented an observer as she let on. Today would be as good a day as any to finally discover the truth.

“Welcome,” he said, motioning to the Shepherds who entered the room last. “Please, take a seat for a moment or two. We shall be going out of doors soon, but I thought it might be nice to meet in here first where we may sit on comfortable chairs.”

When everyone settled, Henry drew a deep breath and began. “Good morning. I’m so pleased to finally begin with these instructional classes.”

Smiles reached him at the front of the room, but Miss Fernside did not look up—no doubt intentionally again.

“To begin,” he continued, “I would like to ask Mr. Chumley here to distribute these books to each of you.” Mr. Chumley stood, doing as he was requested. “These are blank observation journals so that you might begin to record the bird sightings you have. If you haven’t started your own field journals yet, I highly recommend you begin today. This is the single most crucial part of becoming a true observer, as nothing will help you learn better and understand more than when you write your own observations down about the birds you see. I know some of you have been doing this for years already.”

Miss Fernside still scribbled away in her own journal before accepting the book with downcast eyes.

“But one can never have too many available journals, in my opinion. There will be a full class on the best ways to record sightings,” he continued, “as well as a number of other skills and best practices used in observing nature and birds specifically, but for this first instruction, I should like us to simply get to know one another a little better.”

Finally, Miss Fernside’s eyes reached his. If Henry didn’t know any better, he could have sworn he’d seen disappointment in their hazel depths, but she pulled her gaze away before he could be certain.

“So,” he pressed on, “let us go about the room so we may each share the reason we have for joining this excursion. I know we are all here to see the birds, but what I wish to know is the deeper explanation within you—what was the ultimate factor that finally pushed you to come.”

Once again, Miss Fernside’s attention snapped up, and a blush crossed her cheeks, though he hadn’t the faintest idea as to what she could be embarrassed about.

“Let us go row by row,” Henry prompted, motioning for Mr. Chumley to begin.

The group took turns sharing their thoughts with the others, their reasons ranging from wishing for a break from their children to longing to see more of the countryside to simply wishing to grow in a talent they did not possess.

Henry responded to each comment in turn, anxiously awaiting Miss Fernside’s response.

However, when she did, the answer was so rehearsed, Henry in no way believed it to be the truth.

“I have come to simply find rare birds I have not yet had the opportunity to find,” she said.

Her eyes flitted toward Mr. Chumley—who’d turned around in his seat to look at the others as they’d answered—then she immediately focused on her journal again.

Henry hesitated. Was Mr. Chumley the reason behind her rehearsed answer? Would she share the truth with Henry if they were alone? Because he was beginning to notice that he was the only person she was blunt with, and that knowledge, for one reason or another, wrapped his soul in warmth.

“Thank you all,” Henry said after her final response. “It really is such a pleasure to be here with you. All of you. After the countless excursions I’ve been on with only men, I must admit how refreshing it is to have women here, as well.”

Henry had made the comment as much for Miss Fernside’s comfort as for Mr. Chumley’s consideration. He hoped both of them would glean from his words what they needed to.