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She thought perhaps the butler had returned to deliver some other unfortunate news that would cause another delay, so she glanced away from the entry way, only to return her gaze a moment later when someone else entered instead.

Hesitating in the doorway, hidden to all others in the room aside from Lark, the man and his entire stature commanded attention—broad shoulders, tall figure, tanned skin, dark blond hair. Then there was the matter of his features, his cut jawline, masculine lips curved in a slight smile, and his eyes—deep blue and striking like the sea.

He stood there for a moment, hesitant as he leaned around the doorframe. He paused, smiled, then entered the rest of the way with silent footsteps.

Lark tore her gaze away, looking to see if Mr. Chumley had motioned the man forward, but she remembered too late that she couldn’t see Mr. Chumley.

But she could see this new gentleman.

She looked at him again as he walked toward the back of the group where she stood. His attention was on Mr. Chumley, then his eyes found hers, and Lark’s stomach pulled down in pleasant surprise.

Chapter 3

Lark looked away in a rush, praying the man hadn’t thought she’d been staring, even if that was exactly what she’d been doing. Yes, he was handsome, but she was more concerned about his tardiness. Was this why matters had been delayed? Had the butler been informing the Chumleys of their final latecomer who would push them all back a quarter of an hour?

The man stopped a foot or two away, his gaze on her. She fought a good fight for ten seconds or so, then relented and met his stare.

He smiled, the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes appearing first.

She returned his smile with one of her own, then faced forward again, staring at the back of Mr. Branok’s bald head. She couldn’t lean to the side any longer to see more of Mr. Chumley. She would not wish for this man—this very attractive man—to think she was leaning closer to him.

“Typically,” Mr. Chumley was saying, “I venture forth on these excursions alone, spending weeks at a time away from my wife. She has never wished to join me on such dull outings, you see.”

More chuckles from the men sounded, but the gentleman beside her merely smiled.

Mr. Chumley continued. “This time, however, she is simply thrilled to join me, purely based on the fact that she shall have female companions to keep her company over the next two months. You women are a godsend to her, I assure you.”

Lark caught Mrs. Chumley nodding her head enthusiastically beside her husband, and most of the women laughed.

But once more, Lark didn’t join in. How could she? She hadn’t come on this excursion to play companion to some poor woman whose husband did not care to be around her. Lark was there to observe the birds herself. Was there no other woman attending with the same wish?

Aunt certainly wasn’t. She’d merely come to keep Lark and Uncle Francis company. The peacock woman was here for her husband, too, no doubt.

Did this mean Lark would be expected to keep company with the women instead of with the birds?

She internally shook her head. She had paid double her own fee—and both Aunt and Uncle’s charges—to join this tour. And while the price was nothing to her fortune of forty thousand pounds and being the sole heiress of a large estate in Suffolk, Brackenmore Hall, she would not waste another pence on spending a day indoors when she could be venturing forth and adding to her list of birds. Uncle would see reason, surely, and help her to be out with the others, would he not?

The tall gentleman beside her shifted his footing, and she caught the earthy scent of his cologne. It was quite a pleasant smell. One with which she wasn’t entirely familiar.

“Excuse me.”

Lark nearly jumped as the same man whispered to her, leaning slightly down so he was hidden by Mr. Branok, too.

This gentleman certainly wasn’t worried about propriety, was he? Speaking in the middle of the host’s instructions with a woman to whom he had not been introduced.

“Yes?” she asked in a returned whisper, stealing a glance at her aunt and uncle.

Both seemed entirely unaware of the man’s words.

“For how long has Mr. Chumley been speaking?” the gentleman asked.

Lark was having a difficult time focusing on his question, what with those sea blue eyes staring down at her.

“Only for a moment or two,” she finally responded.

He nodded. “Have I missed anything important?”

Other than Lark being classified in the same group as the other women not there for the birds? No, he had not. But then, that didn’t concern him anyway. He’d probably left his wife at home, as well.