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He merely shook his head.

Even still, she knew he had to be. Slowly, she removed his greatcoat and handed it to him. Their fingers brushed in the process, the connection from before sparkling between them, but he looked to the ground instead, retrieving his hat and her bonnet.

As he extended it to her, he was careful not to touch her this time.

Was he upset with their exchange? Or upset that it wouldn’t happen again?

Lark accepted the bonnet, keeping it in her hands as the awkwardness between them grew, neither of them daring to ask what the other thought.

“I…I’d better return indoors. Aunt will be wondering where I am.”

Mr. Branok nodded. “If you go in first, I shall remain out here for a moment to avoid the suspicion from others.”

She nodded with gratitude, backing away. “Thank you for your help with the owl.”

“Of course.” He paused. “That moment was…unforgettable.”

“I’m certain the owl will remember it, too.”

His eyes bored into hers. “I was not speaking of saving the owl.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his meaning.

Silence once more punctuated the air between them. Lark couldn’t put off leaving any longer. She curtsied in departure and turned away.

That kiss had done the exact opposite of what she’d expected—allowing her some form of satisfaction. For now, she knew she would never be satisfied until she was able to kiss Mr. Branok for the rest of her days.

Once safely in her bedchamber, Lark changed into dry clothes, did what she could to fix her hair, then retrieved her stitching, intent on returning to the women in the drawing room. But just as she was headed out, a maid delivered a note to Lark with the invitation from Uncle to meet him in the library.

Fear tightened her throat. Did Uncle know what had just occurred? Had he somehow seen or been told what she and Mr. Branok had just done? Or was she merely spotted in the rain and would now be instructed to rest for the remaining days of the week?

Instead of allowing her thoughts to run rampant, Lark made straight for the library, finding Uncle with his hands behind his back as he stared at the rows of books before him.

“Uncle,” she began, “you sent for me?”

He turned to face her with a kind smile, though it did not reach his eyes. “Thank you for coming so swiftly.”

He eyed her wet hair with suspicion, so she rushed forward to distract him.

“Did you enjoy your walk this morning?” she asked.

“No, the weather was abysmal. Come. Sit with me.”

Together, they sat beside one another on the sofa. Lark did her best not to wring her hands in her lap, instead wriggling her toes—just as she’d done right before first meeting Mr. Branok.

Never in a million years would she have guessed that they would have ended up as friends…if not more than friends.

She bit her lip to hide her smile.

“How have you been?” Uncle asked. “Remaining indoors, I mean?”

“I’ve been faring well enough,” she replied, then her guilt nudged her further. “Though I will admit to walking out in the rain a time or two to maintain my sanity.”

“I assumed you would do as much,” he said with a motion to her wet hair.

She felt better already being honest with him, but when his features fell again, she hesitated. “Is something wrong, Uncle?”

He released a heavy breath. “Yes. I called you in here to tell you that I must return to London this morning.”