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“Thank you,” she said. “But I assure you, I have healed greatly over the years. In truth, I could almost see why Mr. Yates did what he did.”

“There is no excuse,” Mr. Branok said firmly.

Lark could have thrown her arms around his neck at the words. Such honor, such loyalty, she’d never experienced beyond her own family. “I agree. There is no excuse. But Mr. Yates was obviously desperate—if not a little deluded. You see, as the youngest of eight sons, he was anxious to make a name for himself, so he thought he could do so by marrying me…a young, moldable, impressionable heiress.”

Lark watched Mr. Branok carefully, studying his surprised expression. “You are an heiress?”

Warmth swarmed her heart and filled every inch of her. Of course he would not know. Of course he had not given a single thought to her fortune.

“I am,” she replied. “My home is Brackenmore Hall in Suffolk. For obvious reasons, I tend to keep that side of my life as silent as possible.”

“I can understand,” Mr. Branok stated. “Though, you should not have to hide who you are to avoid despicable men from misusing you.”

“No, I should not,” she said wryly. “And yet, I must. Even just recently, I was proposed to by a gentleman after merely a week of knowing one another, for he was in search of a fortune himself.”

She gave a small, mirthless laugh at the memory. She’d become frankly unhinged at Mr. Drake’s sudden and unexpected proposal. She’d been minding her own business, seeking out a bird, when he’d confronted her with the question.

And worst of all? Lark had laughed.

She’d laughed. In her defense, it had been a laughable moment, for they had not spoken above a handful of times before he was expressing his desire to wed her.

Still, she held no ill will toward the man. Mr. Drake had never been unkind. Not like Mr. Yates.

“While I still intend to keep the knowledge of my wealth to myself,” she continued, “I am no longer afraid. I have help now. My uncle was the one who discovered Mr. Yates’s infidelity so I was able to cast the man out before I could seal my fate with his. Ever since, he and Aunt Harriet have taken me under their wings, protecting me, watching over me, and ensuring I lead the life I wish to.”

Mr. Branok’s features softened. “I am glad you had them at your side through all of it.”

“As am I.”

The strain she’d felt before at having to reveal Mr. Yates’s cruelty was now growing fainter as it lifted from her heart and reminded her of the light that had come into her life since.

The light that had come into her life in the form of Aunt Harriet, Uncle Francis, even on occasion her mother.

And now, a light beamed brighter than all the others in the form of Mr. Branok.

She peered up at him, feeling the warmth and glow of that very light now as his eyes perused her features.

“So you see?” she began. “There is nothing to worry about concerning Uncle Francis—what he may believe or what others may say. He knows I do not wish to marry and would therefore never force me to. If I were to have a husband, that would only occur because of my wholehearted desire to marry you.”

Their eyes met, and suddenly, Lark was struck with what she’d said. “If-if I had such a desire to marry anyone,” she corrected, but the words had already been spoken.

The intimacy of the situation settled around her. They were alone again. Secluded. No chance of being spotted or interrupted. And they had spoken of marrying one another.

No, they had spoken of not marrying one another. That their plans to remain single forever had remained unchanged.

And yet, the words jumbled in her mind, confusing her desires and muddling her logic.

“What a relief,” Mr. Branok said, staring down at her, his voice as deep and soothing as when he’d spoken near the frightened owl.

She needed to say something, to let him know she did not truly wish to marry him. Or at least, she did not think she wished to marry him.

Her eyes dropped to his shoulders, the ridges visible through his wet shirt. “I believe it is foolish for anyone to assume something is between us,” she said distractedly. “Other than friendship, I mean.”

“Quite foolish,” he agreed. “But I would hate for your name to be tainted with rumors, nonetheless. Especially rumors I could have prevented.”

The raindrops tapped lightly against the leaves around them, muting the air and creating an ambience of peace. Of privacy. Where words could be shared without being overheard, and actions could go unnoticed by all but themselves.

Her eyes rose to his lips, moisture clinging to the tops of them.