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“No, you haven’t,” she responded.

“Excellent. Thank you,” he whispered again.

His eyes remained on hers after she nodded, and she could see the clear curiosity in his gaze, but she stared straight ahead at Mr. Branok’s bald head, pretending to see Mr. Chumley.

“Now, according to the itinerary,” Mr. Chumley said, “we shall begin our adventure in Yorkshire, where we shall stay for a fortnight, exploring a few seaside towns, as well as the North York Moors. There, as I’m certain you are all aware, the common redstart has been known to inhabit this time of year.”

Lark bit her lower lip to keep from grinning too broadly. She’d been desperate to catch a sight of the bird ever since she’d read about it in Thomas Bewick’s book, History of British Birds, Vol. I.

She was hopeless when it came to colorful birds. Then again, she was hopeless when it came to all birds. She couldn’t wait to see the puffins at Bempton Cliffs, choughs in Cornwall, even mallards in the Lake District. Each bird was so marvelous, so different and unique, that she could not help but love them all.

Her journal was filled with well over one hundred species she’d found in her little corner of east England. But after this trip, her list would be as comprehensive as Mr. Branok’s.

Or so at least she could dream.

She looked at the man’s shining head, and she caught him stifling a yawn into his fisted hand.

Lark pulled back, forcing her frown to remain at bay. He was yawning? Did that mean he was bored? Or was he merely exhausted from traveling back from the West Indies?

She prayed it was the latter. She couldn’t abide the great disappointment she’d experience if this man did not love birds as deeply as his books would suggest.

Her thought didn’t last for long as the gentleman beside her leaned down once more to whisper. “Can you see well enough from there?”

Her cheeks warmed. He’d noticed, then. How had he seen her struggles when not even Aunt and Uncle had? She supposed she shouldn’t be too shocked, as they had yet to acknowledge the whispering man at the side of her either.

“I can, thank you,” she whispered back.

The man didn’t pull away. “Are you certain? You’re welcome to move closer over here. I’m happy to give up my spot for you.”

She glanced up at him, saw his friendly smile, but shook her head all the same. “No, but thank you.”

She faced forward more directly, hoping to dissuade him from speaking to her further. He was kind enough, but she wasn’t entirely aware of why he was being so kind. In her experience, if gentlemen behaved in such a way, it was to get to know her—or rather, her fortune—better.

He peered down at her again with that curious gaze, then looked at Mr. Chumley—whom he could actually see.

“Our journey to Yorkshire will be arduous,” Mr. Chumley said. “Three days of travel. This will be particularly difficult for the women, but I assure you, Mrs. Chumley has taken special care to ensure we have the best inns in which to recuperate.”

Lark fought the urge to roll her eyes. For heaven’s sake. Why did gentlemen feel the need to point out how difficult traveling was for the women? And why did some women feel the need to essentially swoon at the mere mention of a carriage ride? Coaches were not so very bad.

Of course, Aunt and Uncle would beg to differ. The poor dears both suffered with terrible sickness each time they sat in a carriage. She did not relish the upcoming journey for their sake.

Still, Uncle suffered just as greatly as Aunt, so why were only women singled out?

“Have you ever attended an excursion like this before?”

Lark started.

The gentleman beside her…He was speaking with her again. Did he not care about what was being said? She was trying to listen. Not that she needed to. She’d already memorized the itinerary months ago. Still, it was terribly rude to speak over their host in such a manner.

“No, I have not,” she stated. She gave a single nod, then faced forward again, leaning slightly away from him, even though that proved to hide her from Mr. Chumley even further.

“Not even around England?” he whispered next.

He was either oblivious or far too determined.

“No,” she replied simply.

“I have been fortunate enough to have attended a few myself,” he whispered with a smile.