Page 72

“Mmm. Yes, I do.” He tipped his head to the side again. “What other books have you there?”

“Oh, just more of his.”

“I wasn’t aware he’d written so many.”

She scrambled to think of a response, and in so doing, Mr. Branok had a moment to witness her hesitation. Once again, he narrowed his eyes. “Is there a reason you are keeping the other books from me? To hoard the knowledge to yourself, perhaps? Become the better bird observer, after all?”

“No, that would be ridiculous,” she replied.

“Then why do you not tell me what other books you have?”

“I never said I would not.”

“Very well, then tell me.”

She drew a deep breath. Perhaps she could play it off coolly, as if she hardly cared. She raised Beswick’s to reveal Mr. Branok’s own books. “Oh, they are yours, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” He was barely restraining his smile now as he took a step closer.

“Yes. I…I just saw them and thought I might peruse them.” That was more or less the truth. She needn’t mention they were her personal copies, nor that she’d “just” seen them on her bedside table.

He moved forward, leaning toward her. “Which volumes?”

“Let us see,” she began, reading them as if she didn’t already know. “Volumes one, three, and…five.”

“Ah, of course.”

He peered closer, his head just over her shoulder. Her mind swirled at his closeness as the scent of his earthy cologne wafted around her. Still, she forced herself to remain still, if only to pretend she was unaffected by his proximity.

“Those volumes hold some of my favorite birds I’ve ever recorded,” he said. He wandered away from her, taking a seat diagonally from her, though he faced away from the window and toward Lark. “Have you read them before?”

This was the question she’d been dreading—no doubt the question he’d been dying to ask her for weeks.

The innocent smile on his lips and the mischievous look in his eyes told her that he already knew the answer to that question. After all, she’d essentially admitted to reading his work when she’d critiqued him for mixing up the redstart and the golden-crested wren. But her pride hindered the truth from coming forth more fully, so she remained silent.

“It is a simple enough question, Miss Fernside,” he began. “Yet I detect a struggle within you to reply. Why is that?”

His smile grew ever wider.

“Truthfully?” she asked. He nodded. “I do not wish to inflate your head to an even greater size than it already is.”

He laughed. “Always the flatterer.”

“I do try.”

“Come now, my friend,” he coaxed. “Surely you can tell me if you have read my work before now.”

Lark pulled in her lips. Very well. If he wished for her to bear her soul, he would need to bear his own first.

“I will tell you that and more,” she began, “if you tell me why you become upset whenever Blackstone’s is mentioned.”

Instantly, his features fell, but he picked them up swiftly with an easy smile. “You do drive a hard bargain. Though I am minded to accept your suggestion. But first answer me this…Do you care that I am part of such a club?”

“Not in the slightest,” she answered truthfully. “I know nothing of gentlemen’s clubs. I am merely curious after seeing your reaction when speaking of them.”

And Uncle Francis’s reaction, but she would keep that to herself.

Mr. Branok seemed to relax more, resting his elbows on both sides of his chair, causing his shoulders to lift as he laced his fingers together before him. “I am more than happy to explain then. You see, many years ago, my father belonged to White’s. He spoke so highly of the club, I had a mind to join after his death. However, when a friend of mine was denied membership due to his reduced circumstances, I realized how shallow most of the members were and promptly severed any desire to join. Lord Blackstone discovered what had occurred and invited me to join his club, instead. It is as simple as that.”