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She could not blame him for missing the real reason she was upset—she’d always told him she was happy with simply exploring England. She also couldn’t blame him for swallowing his pride to fulfill his dreams. Not when her own dreams were being ignited by a flame of disappointments. She would do anything to see them realized. But then, what if there was nothing to be done?

“Are you certain?” Mr. Branok pressed, his brow pursed with concern after her silence.

Lark forced her mind to remain in the present. She didn’t know what the future held. But she did know, in this moment, she was on an excursion now—with Mr. Branok, no less—and for the time being, that would be enough.

“Yes,” she replied, her smile more sincere this time. “I care not what club a man belongs to, nor what he did to become rejected by others. One’s actions speak louder than another’s words anyway.”

His eyes softened as he watched her. “Once again, wise words from Miss Fernside.” His smile faltered. “But unfortunately, many men, even good men, cannot look beyond this sort of thing.”

His eyes delved into hers, and Lark knew he spoke of Uncle Francis. His reaction to Blackstone’s three days prior had been obvious. But she wasn’t concerned. She would simply tell Uncle he needn’t worry over Mr. Branok belonging to such a club. After all, how terrible could Blackstone’s be if they welcomed individuals who did not belong elsewhere?

“My Uncle is of a sound mind and heart,” she said softly. “He is protective of me, as any guardian ought to be. But he knows a good man when he sees one, I assure you.”

Mr. Branok’s eyes still searched hers warily, but he nodded all the same before clearing his throat and blinking away the last of their serious conversation.

“Well,” he said, patting his hands against his thighs, “I believe it is your turn to speak now.”

Lark’s stomach flopped over itself with nerves. He was right. It was her turn.

“Yes,” she finally responded. “I have read your books before.”

His smile filled her soul with as much warmth as the sun.

“How many of them?” he asked.

She closed her eyes. “All of them. Except your latest, of course. And…” She paused, pressing her hands against the books on her laps. “And these are my own personal copies.”

“I assumed as much. They look a little worn.” His voice held a smile to it. “Just how many times have you read each of them?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I cannot be sure.”

“How about you give me an estimation, then.”

She opened one eye, peeking at him through the crack between her lashes. He was positively beaming. “More than…six or seven times each. If not more.”

His brow raised. “Truly?”

She opened both eyes and faced him more directly. “Do you believe I would ever admit to such if it were not true?”

He didn’t respond, staring at the pile of books in her lap as if attempting to calculate her response.

“Back on our first day in the carriage,” he began, “you mentioned books that took you on figurative trips around the world. That they provided you with being able to see more than you ever would have dreamed.” He caught her eye again. “You were referring to my own books?”

She swallowed the last of her pride that remained and nodded. “Yes, I was specifically referring to yours. I know nothing of the world beyond your books.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes searching hers in silence.

“What is it?” she asked. “Attempting to decide how best to tease me?”

Chapter 24

No, Henry was not attempting to decide how to best tease Miss Fernside. He was attempting to decide how to respond at all.

He’d had a handful of individuals express their love for his volumes of work, but he was no fool. They were field journals, not literary masterpieces.

So, now, to have this intelligent, observant, talented woman admitting to reading his books multiple times to help her see the world when she was incapable of doing so…he was overcome.

“I put in a great deal of work with each book,” Henry began, “and I always hope that my findings will inspire others. To hear that…To see that you…” He trailed off with a shake of his head. “You have touched my heart this morning, Miss Fernside. Touched my heart and humbled me.”