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Footsteps sounded nearby as the others rushed toward Henry.

“What was that bird call?” Mr. Gibbon asked in a vehement whisper, his small mustache sticking on his upper lip.

Henry paused. Bird call? He hadn’t heard any bird call. Blast. Miss Fernside had truly caused him to take leave of his senses—and quite literally so.

“I’m uncertain,” he responded, straining to hear what the rest of them had.

A moment or two passed, and the women joined them, having seen the commotion from beyond.

“What are we looking at?” Mrs. Chumley asked.

Her husband didn’t respond as a song rang out around them, a high-pitched chirping that wasn’t unsimilar to a cricket’s.

“What is it?” the eldest Kay brother asked.

Guesses were made around, but not even Henry was certain without being able to see the bird.

Although, Miss Fernside…

He looked at her, seeing her lips parted, as if on the verge of speaking. “You know what it is, do you not?” he whispered.

She hesitated, then whispered, “It…it is a common kingfisher.”

“What is it, dear girl?” Mr. Haskett asked, coming up to stand before her, having not heard her soft voice. “You must recognize the sound, yes?”

She nodded, responding with more certainty that time. “A kingfisher, Uncle.”

But Mr. Dunn shook his head. “No, kingfishers frequently visit the lake on my estate in Bedfordshire, and that is not their song. It is no doubt a wren.”

Miss Fernside’s brow lowered a degree, but she kept her mouth pressed firmly shut.

Henry believed her over Mr. Dunn without hesitation, but when a fluttering of vibrant blue wings and a long, black beak caught their attention, all eyes fell onto the bird in question, everyone eager to see which observer was correct.

But of course it was a kingfisher.

With its large head, orange-rusted belly, and wings the color of the sea, the bird swooped into a clearing long enough for gasps of approval to sound around them, then he flittered beyond their sight once again.

Pride swelled in Henry’s chest for Miss Fernside as all eyes fell on her with marked surprise.

“It was a kingfisher,” Mr. Shepherd said with an impressed look.

“Marvelous, Miss Fernside,” his wife agreed.

“My niece,” Mr. Haskett began with a puffed chest, “she does know her bird calls.”

Mr. Dunn walked away without a word, and Mr. Chumley looked rather perturbed, as well.

Miss Fernside’s expression, however, was unreadable. She smiled at her uncle in gratitude, then looked at Henry.

“It is time for you to acknowledge the truth of the matter,” he whispered. “You are no beginner.”

The smile she tried to hide on her pink lips grew ever wider before she turned away and followed her uncle deeper into the trees.

Henry couldn’t help but stare after her as he considered the very real possibility that he had been fooled.

He hadn’t made a deal with a novice at all.

Chapter 12