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“Why does what not surprise you?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
“That you are not a romantic.”
She frowned. “Why does it not surprise me that you are?”
“On the contrary. I am not.”
“Except for the fact that you just said it was romantic,” she countered.
“I said it for the benefit of the others.”
He motioned to the Shepherds, Mrs. Shepherd clinging to her husband so tightly Lark wondered if Mr. Shepherd was beginning to lose feeling in his left arm. He hardly seemed to mind her grasp on him, though, his smile ever wider.
“In truth,” Mr. Branok continued, “I think it a ruse.”
Lark bit her tongue to prevent herself from conversing further, but her curiosity won out again. “A ruse for what?”
“For others to believe in romance and marriage. In reality, love better suits birds than it does us humans.”
He’d said the words lightly, and though they were bitter, they didn’t sound as such.
He looked over at her, catching her staring, so she put another inch of distance between them. “I suppose we can agree on that, then. Love is for the birds.”
“Certainly.” He studied her still. “I know why I believe so, but may I ask why you feel such a way?”
She didn’t consider his words for a moment. “No.”
He pulled back, obviously surprised. “Why not?”
“Because only true friends ought to speak about such matters.”
“And are we not true friends?”
She looked at him with a focused gaze. “Why do you not rehearse how you treated me before and after I fell into the nettle, then tell me if we are true friends.”
To her relief, he finally shed his confident expression, and a regretful wince crossed his features.
That was enough for her—to simply know that he knew.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, backing away, not wishing to hear what excuses he had to share. “I must return to my aunt.”
He held up a disarming hand, his humble look of pleading stopping her at once. “You will not allow me to explain?” he asked softly.
Her defenses began to slip down from around her heart, but fear gripped her soul. She could not give in to this. She could not welcome him back into her life. She’d grown too used to his friendship before, so much so that no longer having him in her daily life had hurt too greatly.
She was far better off keeping her distance from him indefinitely.
“No, Mr. Branok,” she said softly. “We needn’t pretend any longer to be friends. You clearly wished to keep your distance before, and I was hurt because of it. But I assure you now, I understand and agree that we ought to maintain distance from one another. We shall remain professional acquaintances and nothing more. Good day.”
“No, Miss Fernside—”
But she shook her head in silence, walked around his outstretched hand, and left him alone.
Chapter 20
Lark was eager to see the last of Yorkshire.
The day after observing the puffins, her final day on the coast had been an utter failure. She had become obsessively preoccupied with avoiding Mr. Branok, so much so that she’d wandered away from the group and drew closer to an unsuspecting wave that had managed to catch her up to her knees.
