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Mrs. Shepherd laughed with her as they reached the section of trees farther from the house.

The group split up, wandering through the oaks and ash trees as they took notes in their journals. The light was beautiful, muted due to the thick leaves above, and an ethereal pink and yellow tone filled the air around them. Birds chirped overhead as voices hushed, and more often than not, the members of the party pointed up into the branches as they anxiously shared each new bird they discovered.

Mrs. Shepherd, Mrs. Chumley, and Mrs. Haskett fell behind the group, obviously finding it difficult not to speak, but not Miss Fernside. She left all the others and remained mostly unnoticed as she stared at the ground instead of the trees above.

Henry watched, intrigued. She paused in her progress, then bent down to retrieve a small, blue feather from the ground no one else had seen. Her pink gown and white overdress fluttered in the subtle breeze.

She examined the feather, then wrote in her journal before tucking the plume between the pages and looking to the ground again. She certainly appeared to be more entertained here than she had been during his class. Did she find him as dull as Mr. Dunn? He certainly hoped not. But there really was only one way to discover the truth.

He approached her, setting aside whatever half-hearted warning his bachelor’s heart was obligated to give him.

“Was my class insufferably dull, Miss Fernside?”

She whirled around to face him in surprise.

Chapter 11

Miss Fernside whirled around to stare at him in surprise, then she glanced at the others who were far enough away to not overhear their conversation.

“Whispering again?” she asked.

“I don’t wish to frighten the birds.” Nor did he wish to draw anyone else toward them. He enjoyed his conversations with Miss Fernside too greatly to share them with others. “But what of my question?”

“What question?”

“Did you find my instruction dull?”

“Oh.” She paused, appearing to think for a moment. “I do not know what could have given you such an assumption.”

“Perhaps it was the lack of eye contact I received,” he returned, holding his hands behind his back and clasping his own observation journal in his hands. “Or perhaps I might have seen you stifle a yawn or two.”

She winced. “I did not sleep well last night. That is all.”

He chose to believe her words rather than the alternative option sifting through his mind. You are as dull as Mr. Dunn, Henry Branok.

“But I will say that I enjoyed your instruction very much despite my lack of sleep. It was very fine.”

Her words were delivered in such a rehearsed manner, Henry nearly laughed, though he daren’t scare the birds away or draw undue attention toward him and Miss Fernside.

Instead, he settled with a smile. “You are too generous with your words. However, might I suggest that they sounded just a touch rehearsed?”

“Forgive me for not being a better actress.”

“Ah, so it was rehearsed.”

She eyed him for a moment, then turned away from him to walk farther down the pathway through the trees, whispering over her shoulder as she did so. “Yes, it was.”

He watched her walk away for a moment, her white overdress fluttering about her ankles. Was she trying to coax him into following behind her like a puppy to his master? More importantly, did he mind an ounce if she was?

Smiling to himself, he followed her straightaway. “You must tell me why you felt the need to deliver a rehearsed answer,” he whispered upon catching up with her.

“Because that is what all gentlemen wish to hear. They only desire words that encourage them to preen.” She pulled on a look of importance with raised eyebrows. “Oh, yes, your cravat is majestically tied. Well done, sir. Heavens, no. I most certainly would not mind you joining in with my pianoforte performance. Your singing voice is far better than my playing anyway. Oh, you wish for me to stay home all the days of my life while you gallivant across the country? But of course, sir. I⁠—”

She stopped herself at once, her eyes snapping to Henry with a look that exposed just how much she’d accidentally revealed.

He waited, anxious to hear what else she might say, but she clamped her mouth shut and turned on her heel again, walking deeper into the trees.

Henry once more trailed after her. “Forgive me,” he whispered behind her, “but you appear to have a very poor opinion of gentlemen. But I cannot seem to decipher if you are referring to a single gentleman or all of them collectively.”