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But even though she appreciated them and their presence in her life to no end, she could not help but long for an existence where she could move beyond her twenty-six years and lead a life without chaperones.

She wanted to go where she wished, when she wished. She dreamt of traveling across England and Europe. Of exploring birds in the East Indies. Discovering more in India, perhaps even in the Americas, like Mr. Branok.

She glanced again at the hairless man in front of her. What a life he must have led. What adventures he must have been on, and what birds he must have seen. She would have that life one day. It was only a matter of time.

Lark looked over her shoulder at the light pouring in from the windows and was half-tempted to move closer to the glass to spot a few birds as she waited.

However, when she heard footsteps shuffling about the room, Lark faced forward as the Chumleys’ butler departed and the host and hostess finally turned toward their guests.

“My friends, welcome,” Mr. Chumley began. His thick curls were brushed forward to frame his features like a lion’s mane. “I do apologize for the delay. We have had a few problems arise, but I assure you, all is well now, and I am so pleased to have you here.” He held his hands together in front of him, his white collar high and skimming his jaw as he spoke. “Now, would you all gather closer? Take a seat if you wish. If we are to be friends on this trip, we may as well begin now.”

The group drew closer together. The peacock couple sat down on the settee, and Aunt Harriet took a single chair on the outskirts of the room while everyone else remained standing.

“Do you wish to sit, Lark?” Aunt Harriet whispered, motioning to a nearby chair, but Lark shook her head.

“I prefer to stand, thank you,” she responded.

She needed to work out her excess energy still, and sitting would hardly do her any favors.

The men drew closer, too, and Mr. Branok—or who she was fairly certain was Mr. Branok—stood near the center of the room. That is, until he moved directly into Lark’s line of sight.

He angled his large body so Aunt and Uncle could see the Chumleys in front of them, but Lark’s view of the host was entirely prohibited. She looked left and right to see if anyone noticed, but Mr. Branok was far enough ahead of her to make it appear that she could see around him. As such, all eyes, including Aunt’s and Uncle’s, were on the Chumleys.

Lark pulled in her lips, shifting to the side, but it was to no avail. She could barely see the couple above the tall, balding man’s head.

It was no great feat for Lark to not be seen behind him. She had a slight frame and hardly commanded attention. But she struggled not to take offense at his ignorance of her. If he wasn’t noticing her now, who was to say she’d be noticed at all during the trip, when that was what she wanted most—to be seen by a famed naturalist and be recognized for her own talents and abilities as a bird observer?

“That’s better now, isn’t it?” Mr. Chumley said, his voice moving around Mr. Branok toward Lark.

She frowned. Surely Mr. Chumley had noticed her behind the man. But then, is that not what she’d promised to be on the excursion—invisible to others?

She shook off the feeling of embarrassment that accompanied being ignored, refusing to become bitter. This adventure would still be amazing, with or without being seen.

She shifted a step away from Aunt, moving until she could see at least half of one of Mr. Chumley’s eyes.

“I hope you’ve all felt a little comfort in our home this morning,” he continued, “enough to sustain you on our long journey ahead.” He paused, as if for dramatic effect. “Speaking of long journeys, I would like to formally welcome you all to our first bird observing excursion across England.”

The group clapped, and Lark tucked her book between her arm and side to join in. Her gloved hands produced a muted thwapping sound. She longed to whoop and whistle, so ready she was for this journey to begin, but she forced herself to remain reserved, just as she’d promised.

“Now,” Mr. Chumley said, motioning to his wife beside him, “I must begin by drawing your attention to my lovely wife, Mrs. Emmeline Chumley, who has taken upon herself the title of hostess. She has been the one to see through the grueling details of planning, including the hiring of private carriages, finding the best travel routes and inns, ensuring we have wonderful homes to stay within in three different counties, and countless other decisions. Let us all show our appreciation for Mrs. Chumley, if you please.”

The group clapped again, and Mrs. Chumley ducked her head in modesty. “I was happy to do so,” she said softly, a kind smile on her lips.

“She has been wonderful,” Mr. Chumley carried on, then he spoke to the group as if his wife couldn’t hear. “Do not tell her I said this, but that is the reason I invited her—so I would not have to do any of that terribly draining work. She is much better at it than I am.”

Laughter sprinkled around the group. Mrs. Chumley and the peacock woman smiled amusedly, as well.

Lark, however, being hidden behind Mr. Branok, fortunately did not have to pretend to be amused at the comment.

She longed to call out, “Is this the only benefit of having a wife?” But she held her tongue.

This was one reason Lark would never marry. If she wanted to observe birds for the rest of her life, she would have to find a gentleman who allowed her to join him on his excursions, never the other way around. Otherwise, she would be expected to remain at home—like the wives of these other men, no doubt.

Even Aunt would have been left alone had she not chosen to come as another chaperone for Lark.

“I am thrilled to begin this journey with you all,” Mr. Chumley continued.

He launched into a description of how this had been a dream of his for years, but Lark’s attention was stolen by a movement at the door.