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“Not at all,” Henry stated. “And there is no need to apologize.”

“I beg to differ. The woman scared off the bird we’ve been waiting to see for days.”

“We all saw it, did we not?” Henry countered.

“We did,” Mr. Shepherd said. “And it was remarkable.”

“But what of the others?” Mr. Chumley began. “The redstart would have stayed for longer, allowing the Kay brothers and Mr. Gibbon to see it, as well.”

Henry remained silent. No one could have guessed how long the redstart would remain. Mr. Chumley was simply being fussy.

“How often she disrupts matters,” the man continued. “She promised she would remain unnoticed, but she is failing miserably thus far, I daresay. Mr. and Mrs. Haskett are becoming quite a nuisance, as well, being unable to chaperone their own niece so often.”

Henry gave a little shake of his head. He couldn’t bear this much longer. He needed to clear his mind. More than anything, he needed space from Mr. Chumley and his incessant speaking.

Ever since Henry had distanced himself from Miss Fernside—attempting to make it easier on his conscience after he’d clearly crossed the line of propriety—Mr. Chumley had seized him at every opportunity, and Henry had allowed it. He’d hoped the man’s conversation would be a nice distraction, but it proved to be nothing short of exhausting.

Especially while attempting to observe birds.

“The Hasketts can hardly be blamed for falling ill when they travel,” Mr. Shepherd said. “And your wife seems more than happy to help in chaperoning. I know Mrs. Shepherd would be, as well.”

“Yes,” Mr. Chumley agreed moodily. “But that is also disruptive. Only today, our travel arrangements have been made to shift drastically. But worry not, gentlemen. I’m minded to find a way to convince Miss Fernside to end her time with us before the Lake District. Imagine what a peaceful experience that will be without her.”

Disgust gurgled in Henry’s chest like boiling mud. Miss Fernside had behaved more like herself in the last week than she ever had—and she’d seemed quite confident that no matter what she did, Mr. Chumley no longer held power over her.

But then, what if he did? What if Mr. Chumley found a way to expel her from the excursion? Henry would never forgive himself.

He never should have allowed the kiss between him and Miss Fernside to nearly occur. But more than anything, he never should have ignored her as he had the last few days. He’d thought perhaps he could convince himself that he’d imagined the connection and attraction between them, but being away from her only proved that whatever he felt for Miss Fernside was growing—whether he liked it or not.

Mr. Chumley might experience peace without her. But if Henry had learned anything in the last week of avoiding her, it was that all excursions from this point forward without Miss Fernside would be decidedly lacking.

And he was still coming to terms with what exactly that meant.

“I think my wife and yours would be terribly sorry if that happened,” Mr. Shepherd said carefully.

“I suppose,” Mr. Chumley grumbled. “But they are not the only ones whose thoughts and opinions should be taken into account.” He shifted toward Henry. “What say you, Mr. Branok?”

Henry rubbed at his burning hands once again. “Frankly?”

Mr. Chumley gestured for him to continue.

“Very well, frankly, Mr. Chumley, I believe your frustrations with the woman ought to be laid to rest. She is not disrupting matters.”

Unless he was referring to matters of Henry’s heart.

“I beg to differ, sir,” Mr. Chumley protested. “What of the way she instructed you today? You cannot tell me you appreciated it.”

“I did,” Henry replied. “One needs correction when one is wrong.”

He gave Mr. Chumley a knowing look, and the man narrowed his eyes a fraction, as if wondering if Henry was speaking of him.

He was.

Henry continued, “I would far prefer her instructing me than the possibility of me relaying false information. I, for one, am glad she spoke up. At any rate, she has just as much right as anyone to be on this trip. She paid the same as the others, did she not?”

Mr. Chumley averted his gaze. “Yes, quite right. Quite right.”

He fell silent, then, clearly knowing he was losing the conversation.