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“Tell me,” he whispered back. “Is this your own choice? Or is someone else making the decision for you?”

Their eyes met, hers wide with—With what exactly? Fear? Realization? “It is my own choice,” she answered weakly.

“Is it?” he pressed.

“Lark? Lark, are you coming?”

Mrs. Haskett’s voice reached them from within the carriage, and Henry gritted his teeth.

“I must go,” Miss Fernside whispered again.

Henry released his hold of her completely. “So this is how you wish to proceed? After…” He dropped his voice. “After everything that has occurred between us?”

“Lark?” Mrs. Haskett called again.

Miss Fernside backed away. “I am sorry. None of this is how I wish it to be. But I do not have time to explain right now. Please, wait for Cornwall.”

Cornwall? Two weeks from now? She could promise no such thing, for who was to say if Mrs. Haskett would not demand her presence further—or worse, if Mr. Haskett demanded she never speak with Henry again?

Henry shook his head. He was finished begging. He was finished pining after her. “Do not trouble yourself. You have made your wishes clear enough. Goodbye, Miss Fernside.”

“Lark, my dear?” Rustling sounded in the carriage, as if Mrs. Haskett made to stand.

“Mr. Branok?” Miss Fernside called after him, but he ignored her, stalking away to his own carriage and climbing within the confines of his cage.

Unfortunately, the three-day journey proved to be precisely a cage. However, Henry had finally had enough time away from Miss Fernside to determine that her avoidance of him was for the best—as would be the next fortnight in London.

Each moment he’d spent in the woman’s company had pulled him closer to her siren’s call, causing him to forget the very reason he’d chosen to remain single in the first place.

However, after bidding farewell to the others—everyone aside from Miss Fernside and her aunt—Henry returned to his room on the upper floor of Blackstone’s. There, he opened a letter from the viscount himself—written on pink stationary, of course—that reminded him once again why he would forever remain unmarried.

Mr. Branok,

Welcome back. I look forward to hearing about your travels, however I admit I have news myself.

Do come at your earliest convenience this afternoon to the card room. I have something to share with you that I believe will be met with great interest.

Lord Blackstone

With excitement he tried to convince himself was stronger than ever before, Henry made his way to the card room on the ground floor, finding Lord Blackstone seated at the foremost table with a group of gentlemen.

“Mr. Branok!” Lord Blackstone called out, waving him toward the table.

Henry made his way across the green-blue carpet, passing gentlemen with their fine clothing, top hats, and canes before reaching the viscount and taking the final seat around the green fabric of the table.

He greeted the others, sharing information about his trip around England as they asked for details before he faced Lord Blackstone.

“I believe you have news for me, my lord.”

Lord Blackstone did his best to hide his smile, though his eyes shone with delight. “Yes, indeed. I have brought you here to ask if you’d like to take part in another excursion. This time…” He paused for dramatic effect, “to India.”

Henry felt…To be honest, he did not know what he felt. He knew he should have been excited. Ecstatic. He’d been longing to go to India for years—for himself and for his parents. But something was preventing him from feeling the joy he’d expected.

Something…or someone.

“He’s clearly in shock,” Lord Blackstone joked with the other men. “That is why he does not speak.”

“Or he is merely tired from his travels,” one gentleman guessed.