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“Stunning, is it not?” Mother commented as they entered the ballroom.

The grand space was as bright as day with countless candles flickering above the room and about the walls.

“Quite breathtaking,” Lark said, though her eyes were on the hordes of people already filling the dance floor.

She dreaded the number of times she would be asked to dance tonight—and all by acquaintances of Mother who’d heard tell of her stunning, wealthy daughter.

Mother had been thrilled to welcome back Lark after her travels. To her credit, she’d listened to Lark’s full account of the expedition thus far—omitting a few happenings, of course. But after that, Mother had not wasted a single moment making up for lost time, pulling Lark from person to person at each event they attended.

“My friend puts on quite a show,” Mother continued, commanding the space she walked.

She looked as regal as ever in her white gown that draped flatteringly over her figure.

“He does, indeed,” Lark agreed.

The ball tonight was put on by the Duke of Rockwood, yet another of Mother’s many friends. Her connections truly knew no bounds—which was unfortunate for Lark and her desire to remain unnoticed by all.

Well, not all. But the one person she wished to be noticed by was the one person she hadn’t seen for two days.

It was just as well. She couldn’t speak with Mr. Branok anyway. Nor would he wish to speak with her. She’d burned that bridge to cinders, and her charred heart was proof enough of the fact.

Soon enough, Mother and Lark found Aunt and Uncle, the former joining them as they walked about the room, and the latter retreating to the card rooms almost instantly.

Lark wouldn’t mind hiding away with no responsibilities for an evening. Oh, to be a gentleman.

Instead, she remained at the forefront of attention with Mother introducing her to more faces and individuals than she could ever hope to remember.

After a quarter of an hour, Mother was whisked away by a group of women who strikingly resembled a gaggle of Roman geese as they walked about the room in unison, their heads held high, ready to cast judgments on all who dared approach them.

For the moment, Lark was left to her own devices. She joined Aunt at the edge of the room, observing the dancers on the floor, and Lark stifled a yawn.

“Tired already?” Aunt asked.

“I’ve been tired since we left the Lake District.”

Aunt Harriet smiled encouragingly. “You’ll need to rally your energy this evening. This may be the last dance you have without a partner.”

Lark’s shoulders dipped. Aunt was right. It was only a matter of time before Mother returned to her side with a row of gentlemen behind her for Lark—goslings behind the mother goose.

“Would I could be a wallflower,” Lark muttered, longingly eying the young girls sitting demurely at the sides of the room, anxiously staring at each gentleman who passed them by without notice.

Her heart reached out to the ladies. They were pretty, but nowhere near fine enough to be noticed by the pompous ton.

Lark would know. Mother had dressed her in her finest gown this evening—the deep red gown with pearls sewn down the center and around her waist and neckline was even more grand than the blue dress she’d worn on the expedition.

The blue dress that had caused so much trouble between her and…

Her heart twisted, but she ignored it as best she could—just as she’d done from the moment she’d sworn to Uncle she would not speak with Mr. Branok.

The days since had been the most difficult of her life. She’d hoped, upon her return to London, that Uncle would have good news concerning Mr. Branok, but his words had been bleak.

“I still have yet to discover a single person who is aware of what he did to be blackballed,” Uncle had told her upon her return. “This can mean only one thing. Mr. Branok must have hidden his actions due to their egregious nature. I can only imagine what heinous behavior he must have exuded. I can hardly bear the thought of meeting up with him again in Cornwall in two weeks’ time.”

Once again, Lark had soothed her uncle’s anxiousness, for she still felt the same about abandoning the expedition too early—there was no chance she would.

Just as there was no chance she would believe that Mr. Branok was capable of doing anything egregious at all. But she’d decided, for now, to allow Uncle Francis time to calm down before she voiced her continued desire to ask Mr. Branok herself what he’d done.

She’d longed to do so during their final days in the Lake District, but true to her promise to Uncle, she’d maintained her distance. And Aunt, true to her word, had not left Lark’s side for a single moment.