The drawing room at Bridgerton House filled to the walls with gentlemen of the ton and the bouquets of flowers they brought with them for Francesca, Edwina, and much to her despair, even Eloise. Kate and Anthony escaped earlier in the morning for their daily ride at Rotten Row, leaving the dowager viscountess in charge. Violet sent for every empty vase in the house until the room looked like a veritable greenhouse stocked with the most exotic hothouse flowers.

Edwina idly wondered if there was one red rose left in all of London.

She sank back into the chaise and listened with half an ear to the conversation buzzing around her. She snatched a few hours of sleep late in the morning, a true feat as her mind whirled with thoughts of what occurred the previous night.

As hard as she tried, Edwina could not shake the kiss from her mind. When Lucas pressed his lips to hers, she never felt more alive than in that moment. And when she thought of him, she was filled with all kinds of confusing emotions, including, to her surprise, envy.

Lucas knew his life's purpose. He knew his reason for waking every morning. He was driven to help others in need, to care for them, to heal them.

When Edwina explored the small garret while he slept, she wondered why he did not reside in a more comfortable apartment or house. Certainly, a better situation than an attic above a coffeehouse. He charged Lady Danbury twenty pounds when he treated Kate. With her mental calculations, Edwina expected that Lucas earned thousands of pounds a year yet he lived as if on the brink of poverty.

And, from what Lady Danbury explained to her, Lucas was the second son of a prosperous businessman, who, in himself, was a second son of a wealthy earl.

Where did his money go?

Edwina shook her thoughts, dislodging them. It was none of her business. He was none of her business.

But she knew he intrigued her. Not only who he was, but what he did. As she sat waiting for him to wake, she perused his bookshelf finding all manner of books on medicine. She found the topic as exhilarating as Lucas's kiss and wished bitterly that women were allowed to attend university, to study to become surgeons.

He had told her that she would make a good surgeon. Of course, the laudanum loosened his tongue, but the compliment warmed her. It meant that she could be something other than a rich, titled man's wife, an ornament for him cling to on his arm, a trophy.

Ever since the queen named her the Diamond of last season, Edwina felt like a commodity and not a real person. As she eyed the gentlemen jostling one another for her attention, she knew they did not see her as anyone except something to bought, something to be won.

Lucas saw her as someone. He saw her as capable. He saw that she could be like him.

Edwina worried her lip. And, she wanted that for herself. But, as a woman, as a lady, it would impossible to attain.

"You two do look poorly," Violet said with concern. Edwina sunk deeper into the chaise and, from where she sat across from her, Eloise wasn’t even trying to sit up straight.

Both girls were hollow-eyed from last night, but Edwina took in a deep breath to steady herself as she forced herself upright and took another sip of tea. She was on the brink of ringing for a pot of coffee when Eloise slouched further down in her chair.

“I do feel rather poorly, mother. May I retire to my room?”

Violet pursed her lips. It was one thing for her daughter and daughter-in-law to be ill, but it was another lose an opportunity for both girls to mingle with the most eligible bachelors of the season, all of whom have gathered in their drawing room.

Lord Lumley, who sat by Edwina’s side, frowned with concern. “If you are unwell, I would be remiss to keep you from your rest.”

Edwina smiled wanly. Lord Lumley was a sweet man, if not a bit of a dandy. He was the first to call at Bridgerton House when the family returned from Aubrey Hall with the intent of seeking out Edwina. It was this small gesture that rippled out into waves throughout the rest of the ton. Invitations began flooding in soon after.

He was her first kiss. And, his intentions were clear. Last season, Anthony swooped in and stole Edwina away from right under his nose. She did not believe Lord Lumley will let that blunder happen again.

Kate predicted that Lord Lumley would offer for Edwina's hand before the season was out.

Edwina knew she should be flattered by his regard, and truly she was. But, all she thought of was that she did not love him. When he held her hand, Edwina did not feel the spark that Kate described the first time she and Anthony touched.

And when he kissed her, she felt nothing.

Her mind drifted to the tall, pale, devastatingly handsome (though she would not admit it even under the punishment of torture) doctor, who thought too much of himself and his skills.

Lucas, she thought, he asked me to call him Lucas.

Of course, Edwina would not see him again. Their paths only crossed by chance last night. There would be no reason for them to meet again.

"Perhaps, I should call for the doctor?" Violet asked, her eyes filled with concern as she took in both Eloise's and Edwina's listlessness. "Though, I do believe that Dr. Crawford is out in the country visiting his family."

"Dr. Blakeley," Edwina interjected without thought. Why did she recommend him? And, why, did a little flutter fill her chest when she did so?

Eloise's eyes brightened at the name and Edwina inwardly cursed. Of course, Eloise must remember that Dr. Blakeley was one of the speakers at last night's assembly.

"Dr. Blakeley? I do not know of him."

"He treated Kate after her accident when we were staying with Lady Danbury," Edwina replied.

"Well...I don't know," Violet hesitated. "Perhaps, I should send a note to Lady Danbury to ask her of her opinion of him."

Edwina felt a mild panic rush through her. She was certain that the older lady would not recommend Lucas. He gouged her out of twenty pounds after all. If she wanted to see Lucas again, this may be her only chance. Though, she needed to sit still and analyze why she was compelled to see the ogre of a man.

"I..." Edwina stood. Everyone in the room turned to look at her. There was no turning back now. "I..." she started again before rolling her eyes into the back of her head and fell into a swoon.

A gasp went up around the room. Edwina felt Lord Lumley lift her into his arms.

She heard Violet's panic voice calling out into the hallway. "Send for Dr. Blakeley at once!"

Edwina, laid utterly still in Lord Lumley's arms wondering if she could feel the fires from hell licking at her toes for such a conniving stunt.

***

Lucas was stepping out of the main doors of the college when he was accosted by a footman wearing light lilac livery and a powdered wig.

"Are you Dr. Blakeley?" the footman asked.

"Yes, but I do not have time now to travel to Mayfair. Tell your master or your mistress that a good long soak will help either their gout or migraine."

Lucas walked on, quickening his pace. Dorset sent him a note asking to meet at Mondrich's to discuss the raid from the previous night. Dorset wasn't a petty man, but Lucas knew he would be at the end of a good-natured lecture from his friend. He was bracing himself for many "I-told-you-so's," all which he would accept meekly for being the fool that he was.

The only small blessing was that if had he not been present at the assembly, then Edwina would have found herself in dire straits. Lucas was filled with cold fear thinking that she could have been injured, imprisoned, or even killed in the mayhem that ensued. Instead, at the moment, he assumed she was resting comfortably in her soft bed dressed only in her chemise-a thin chemise, so thin that he could make out the dark outline of her nip-

Lucas shook his head as if to clear it. This was neither the time nor the place. And when did he suddenly become so perverse? It must be the lingering effects of having Edwina present in his room last night. Fantasy and reality were beginning to blur.

And, the kiss. Lucas was still unsure if it had actually taken place or if it was a fevered dream. Edwina made no mention of it and his cheek was free of any bruise that a slap would have left behind. Perhaps, it was all just a dream after all.

Pity.

Lucas was also expected back at Greymoor House within the hour to check on Constance's condition. Earlier that morning, she told him that she felt some discomfort and Lucas immediately sent her back to bed for rest. It was still too early for the babe to be born. By his estimation, the baby and next Earl of Greymoor was due to make his grand appearance in three weeks.

The footman shook his head. "I've come from Bridgerton House."

Lucas slowed his steps. Edwina must have told Lord Bridgerton what had occurred the previous night. The viscount was sure to demand an explanation, perhaps at the end of his fists. He certainly deserved to, Lucas thought with a resigned sigh. Edwina would be ruined if anyone else knew that she spent half the night in Lucas's room no matter that he was unconscious for nearly all of it.

"Right," Lucas said, pivoting and following the footman to a carriage emblazoned with the Bridgerton family crest.

"The young lady, Miss Sharma, has taken ill. She fainted dead away," the footman explained.

A chill of fear raced through Lucas. Edwina was ill? When they parted earlier, she looked tired but steady. Did she take a chill in his rooms while he slept? He should not have slept while she sat and waited in a cold room. He should have had the strength to make a greater fire for her. He should have offered her something hot to drink. Maybe even a sip of a brandy that he kept for medicinal purposes.

No, he should have taken her directly home instead of going to his room. Despite what she believed, he was fully capable of treating his own wound. It was only his selfish need to see her in his personal space, to see her in his home, that compelled him to bring her there.

God, what had he done?

"Then, make haste," he demanded as he flung himself into the carriage.

***

Lucas didn't wait for the carriage to stop completely before he leapt out and flew up the front steps of Bridgerton House. He didn't take the time to search for the servant's entrance. Instead, he banged loudly at the front door until a man dressed in light lilac livery, identical to the one the footman who retrieved him wore, opened it and was about to address Lucas when Lucas pushed him aside.

"Where is the patient?"

An older lady, dressed in a soft periwinkle afternoon gown appropriate for visitors, stepped out of the drawing room, which, before the door closed, he saw was filled with gentlemen of the ton. A few turned to him curiously before the door shut.

"Dr. Blakeley?"

Lucas bowed stiffly. "The patient?"

"Upstairs, second room to left." Before the lady was finished, Lucas was already taking the steps two at a time, before coming to a closed door. He opened it abruptly, startling a maid, who was holding a basin of hot water that sloshed down the front of his coat and her uniform. She gasped and he steadied her, taking the basin from her and putting it down on the stand.

"Unscented soap," he said, dismissing her as she ran from the room. Lucas closed the door shut behind her.

On the drive over, Lucas ran every scenario through his head. Edwina catching a chill, one that settled in her lungs. Influenza. Pneumonia. Lucas froze. Consumption. She'll be pale, fatigued, struggling to catch each breath. Her skin cold and clammy to his touch. Her eyes blank and lifeless.

Lucas ground his teeth, forcing himself to turn and face the truth of his foolishness. If she suffered because of him, if she died...

Lucas opened his eyes.

Edwina sat up in her bed, her eyes bright with wonderment, no doubt at his silence.

He looked back at her with shock.

"Are you well?" they both said at the same time. Edwina smiled faintly.

"What do you mean if I am well?" Lucas said. "I was told you are ill, that you fainted."

Edwina shrugged one shoulder in nonchalance, though he saw the uncertainty on her face. She was nervous. "I lied."

Astounded, Lucas took in a deep breath, anger quickly replacing fear. She was safe. She had been safe all along. And, with a quick inspection as he raked his eyes over her, she looked healthy, or as healthy as she can be with a minimal amount of sleep and the taxing events from the night before.

No, Edwina looked glorious with her hair down in long black waves that ended near her waist. She wore a chemise, white and clean, and, unfortunately not as thin as he had imagined earlier. It was made of thick, soft cotton, though still arousing as he knew that just beneath the layer of fabric her skin laid bare.

Edwina watched him with her bright, brown eyes. Her plump lips upturned slightly in the corners as if amused by his reaction.

She wasn't ill at all. She was the picture of health.

And, Lucas was furious.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. He realized then that he still clutched his valise in one hand, his knuckles white from the earlier fear. He willed himself to relax his hand lest the anger that roiled through him exploded.

"Are you well?" Edwina repeated her earlier question, her eyes searching his face. "Were you able to rest after returning me home?"

"What?" It sounded as if she was following up on a treatment, as if she was the surgeon and he the patient.

Edwina sniffed impatiently. "How do you fare today?"

"This is ridiculous," Lucas said, turning towards the door, readying to leave. It was best to put as much distance between him and this infuriating woman.

"Wait!"

Lucas turned to face her once again, grumbling inwardly at how easily she commanded him. Her eyes search his once again, taking in any sign of illness. Lucas felt like a specimen under glass, her eyes assessing his features with clinical reservation.

"Let me see the wound."

"What?"

She looked at him as if he was daft.

"Your wound, the one you received at the end of a footpad's knife."

"Why?"

"I wish to ensure that infection has not taken root."

"I assure you it has not." Lucas smirked. "You can trust my word. I am a surgeon after all." When he woke again, this time disappointingly alone in his room at Greymoor House, Lucas unraveled the linen bandage Edwina had wrapped around his chest and inspected the suture. He was unable to make a proper assessment at the time of the stitching as he was heavily under the influence of laudanum.

He was impressed. The thread wove in and out of his skin neatly, not too tight to tear his skin when he moved and not too loose that it wouldn't hold the wound closed.

"Humor me," Edwina said patiently.

Lucas cast another look at the door. The maid would return at any moment. Edwina seemed to follow his thoughts. "Hurry."

Lucas shook his head in disbelief again and began to undo the buttons on his coat. Why could he not say no to this woman? What was this strange power she held over him?

Once his coat laid open, his fingers hurried along the buttons of his waistcoat then the shirt underneath. He only undid enough buttons to allow Edwina a decent enough view of her stitching. He watched her face as she seemed transfixed as he undid each button. When he felt the cool air touch his bare skin, he swore he heard Edwina moan.

"Come closer," she said in a slight hush. Lucas hesitated before closing the distance between them. He sat down at the edge of her bed. She reached towards him and pushed back the layers of clothing until his chest was exposed. Her hand, warm, touched him firmly.

The air left his lungs.

"You are right," she said, as she ran her fingers near his wound taking care not to touch it directly. "The wound is healing nicely. There is no redness, no infection." Her lips quirked. "The ointment you created is potent."

Edwina started to draw her hand away and much to his surprise, his own hand rose and clamped down hard on hers, pressing it back down on his chest. Skin to skin. Her eyes darkened as her breath caught in her throat. His eyes fell to her lips. A kiss, just one real kiss to replace the one of his dreams.

Lucas leaned in as Edwina tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering close.

"Edwina!" A woman called out as she burst in the room. "I heard you-"

Lucas moved quickly, shooting off the bed, presenting his back to the intruder, as his fingers flew up the buttons of his coat. Heat flushed his cheeks.

He turned to face the woman, praying that he did not misalign the buttons on his coat in his haste. Lucas shot a glance at Edwina and saw her rearrange the emotions on her face from surprise to disappointment to a placid, blank look.

The woman was attractive with creamy, dark brown skin, high cheekbones and large, luminous eyes. She wore a hunter green riding habit with a small hat that mimicked a gentleman's beaver hat sitting at a jaunty angle on her head. Lucas immediately recognized her as the former Kate Sharma now Viscountess Bridgerton. Edwina's older half-sister.

"Miss Sharma is well," Lucas said as Lady Bridgerton looked at him askance. He felt his heart flutter anxiously as if he was a boy caught stealing a look up a girl's skirt instead of a man, a surgeon, treating his patient. "Bed rest, that's all I recommend, for her exertions of the past evening. She is perfectly fine."

Though, as Lucas stepped out of Edwina's bedroom, he could not say the same for himself. His head was filled with contradictions and the simplest remedy was to push all thoughts of Edwina to the farthest corners of his mind.

He cleared his throat, turning to Lady Bridgerton who followed him out. "It'll be twenty pounds."

Shock and outrage lit her eyes.