It irked Edwina that Lucas thought he could intimidate her with his size and his coldness and, at times like this, his kisses. It was very male and both annoying and arousing at the same time.

There was anger in his kiss. And, a hint of desperation. Edwina tasted both on his lips, on his tongue. He was trying to punish her for reaching too deep inside him. She refused to let him go until he relented, until his kisses softened and moved from anger to lust.

Edwina knew with conviction that the man in her arms was broken. She glimpsed past the shield Lucas had erected around himself. One that he may not even be aware even existed.

He had been hurt and hurt still.

The kisses slowed, sweetened to small presses, and lost the edge of urgency. Eventually, he stopped entirely, his cheek resting against hers, his breath hot and unsteady. His hands were braced on each side of her, trapping her between him and the wall.

Lucas pulled away. "I apologize. I do not know what came over me. I-"

"From what I've been reading, it seems you have a case of an overabundance of animal spirits."

Lucas's lips quirked briefly before disappearing. "Regardless, I still apologize-"

"No," Edwina cut him off. "I kissed you this time and I am not sorry, so do not expect an apology." She pushed against his chest gently until he released her and stepped back. "If and when you are ready to speak of your father, I am here for you, Lucas. We are friends of sorts."

"Friends do not kiss," he said without a trace of his usual mockery. If anything, he looked bewildered as if he could not understand the words he'd spoken.

"Perhaps, we do when we need to. When one of us is hurt, the other reaches out. Maybe not with a kiss or even a touch, but simply with our presence."

He nodded as her words seemed to sink in. Edwina meant every single one of them.

He raked his fingers through his hair. “What shall we do now? Forget what happened again? Never speak of this kiss and the many others that will surely follow?”

Edwina warmed down to her very toes but ignored his remark. “We focus on the task at hand. And I made a promise to you and I do not take my promises lightly. I will find you a wife before the Season is through and you may bestow as many kisses on her as you wish.”

Lucas stood motionless and Edwina could see the rational, systematic side of his mind replace the passionate man that had pressed her hard up against the wall, the one who thrust his tongue expertly against her own. Edwina could practically see the shields erect around him.

He bent down and picked up the basket she discarded earlier and handed it to her.

"Shall we? We cannot argue and kiss away half the morning. We have patients to attend to."

***

What just happened? Lucas thought. His head was swimming with confusion. He felt discombobulated. He was angry one moment, then possessed with lust the next. That, in itself, was not unusual whenever he was in Edwina's company. In actuality, those reactions appeared to be the norm.

What was unusual was the feeling of longing for something that he could never possess.

He was an imbecile to think he could do this, to teach Edwina, to be in her presence and not act like a deranged, besotted fool.

Because he was not besotted. It's just been too long since he had relations with someone outside of his right hand. And, even then, he thought of Edwina, of her kisses, her moans, her touches, the silkiness of the thighs, and-

Alarm bells ricocheted in his head. This will not do. These emotions were a distraction. Edwina was a distraction. And the clearest course of action was to repress whatever unsettling feelings she conjured within him, focus on the task at hand, as she said, and find himself a goddamn wife and end this charade for good.

A wife that he could swive whenever the need came upon him, and he will not, absolutely not, think of Edwina while doing so.

Lucas held the door open to the apothecary for Edwina before following her into the small shop. It smelled of dried herbs with the sharp chemical tang from the various bottles. Lucas carefully maneuvered around endless rows of medicine cabinets until he reached the back of the shop. A man sat behind the counter, gold spectacles balanced precariously at the end of his nose. He wore a simple gray wool suit that was worn thin at the elbows.

"Ah, Dr. Blakeley."

"Mr. Morton. May I introduce you to Miss Sharma? She will be accompanying me for the next several days."

Mr. Morton peered at Edwina over his glasses. "What is a fine young lady like you doing with a disreputable man like Blakeley?"

"She is my current apprentice," Lucas answered as he opened his valise and began taking out various sized bottles.

Mr. Morton cast a pitying look at Edwina. "My condolences. You've attached yourself to a relentless taskmaster."

Lucas snorted and passed Mr. Morton a list written out in pencil. "And, how are your headaches faring?"

"Gone, since you deduced that my lenses needed to be changed. Went to the oculist just yesterday." He tapped his spectacles. "You were right, the prescription was too strong. To think I worried for nigh half a year thinking I had a tumor growing in my brain." He faced Edwina and broke into a wide grin. "Forget all the nonsense I spewed earlier. Dr. Blakeley is a fine man. The best around."

"I am certain he is," Edwina replied, returning his smile.

Lucas placed a few bottles before Edwina. Each was clearly labeled. Mr. Morton busied himself with Lucas's list, bustling up and down behind the counter opening different drawers and bottles.

"Medicine?"

Lucas picked up one bottle. "As a surgeon, you will need to familiarize yourself with the many medicinals, tinctures, and potions at your disposal. For instance, laudanum."

Edwina took the small brown bottle from his hand and uncorked it. She gave it a sniff. "I remember. It smells sweet like flowers."

"That is because it is distilled from the opium poppy-an excellent painkiller, but highly addictive. It can kill if consumed in large quantities. It is our responsibility to monitor the appropriate doses for our patients."

Lucas reached for another bottle, uncorked it, and held it out to Edwina.

"Vinegar?" she asked.

"To prevent infection."

"Mixed with turpentine, honey, and salt."

Lucas smiled. "You remember."

"It was the night you nearly died. I don't believe I will forget that night until well past ninety."

"What else do you remember about that night?"

"Besides being terrified when those footpads appeared?"

"About the procedure."

Edwina thought back to last week. "I set a kettle to boil with the needle inside."

Lucas nodded in encouragement. "It is best practice to sterilize all our tools. Boiling with clean water for a minimum of five minutes. However, repeat sterilization may damage the instrument, which is why it is best to always keep them sharpened by a blacksmith." Lucas took out a leather satchel from his valise and untied the straps. Within laid knives of different sizes. He handed one knife to her. "Be careful, it is sharp."

Edwina held it up until it caught the light. The blade was paper thin. It gleamed menacingly.

"What else happened that night?"

"I washed my hands with plain soap, thoroughly."

"Why?"

"To prevent transferring any kind of dirt and grime to you."

"And then?"

"I cleaned your wound with hot water and soap."

"You missed a step," he said, taking the knife back from her and returning it into the satchel alongside its brothers.

Edwina thought for a moment. "You ingested laudanum to dull the pain. But, even before that, you put pressure on your wound to slow the bleeding."

"Excellent. Carry on."

"Once the area around the wound was clean and the bleeding had slowed, I stitched up your wound and applied your concoction to prevent any lingering infection. Afterwards, I wrapped the injured area with strips of clean linen."

"If a wound is grievous enough, it is sometimes wise to disinfect it with vinegar or turpentine. We don't know for certain when infection will take root, so we must always expect the worst. Also, the wound may need to be free of any foreign particles."

"Such as if the knife's point had broken inside you?"

"Yes, which is fairly common. Knives are often dull and weakened from repeated use. A hard thrust against a bone, like a rib, can break off its tip. Then will come the mess of fishing it out of the body before cleaning and stitching up the injury."

Lucas hesitated, before continuing. "Did I ever express my gratitude for your assistance that night? I am sure I was remiss." He looked down at her, his hair falling loose around his face as he closed the distance between them. He took her hand into his. "Thank you."

Edwina felt unsettled. She could manage arrogantly rude Lucas and even amorous Lucas, but kind and grateful Lucas?

Her heart did a little flip. She freed her hands from his and grabbed the nearest bottle. Anything to distract the roiling emotions he caused in her. Before uncorking it, Lucas stopped her and gently took it from her hands. He turned the bottle, showing her the label.

"Ether. What is it?"

"It is used as an aesthetic much like laudanum, but one does not ingest it. It is inhaled and enough of it can render a man unconscious in seconds. It is also highly flammable. We only use this for the worst cases."

Mr. Morton set down a tin before Lucas.

“What is in that tin?”

Lucas cleared his throat, looking uncertain for a moment. “French letters. Vinegar and sponges rarely work to prevent unwanted pregnancies and never do to stop the spread of venereal diseases.”

“A sheath,” Edwina said, fascinated. “I’ve never seen one.”

Lucas handed the tin to Edwina and she opened it to examine its contents. There appeared to be three rolls of a thin, nearly translucent material with a ribbon at each end. How it went onto a man, she had no idea.

“It’s made of animal intestines.” Lucas paused, before continuing, “Truthfully, I am stunned that you even know what they are.”

Edwina shrugged one shoulder and passed the tin back to Lucas. “You’d be surprised what young ladies chat about over a pot of tea and a tray of biscuits, especially if one of the ladies is recently married or has found a lover.”

“I’ve underestimated you, Miss Sharma.”

“I believe you have from the start.” She arched an eyebrow, daring him to rebut the statement.

He slanted her a smile. “I believe you are right.”

***

Edwina thanked the heavens that she did not break into a blush when she slowly realized what was stored within the tin. Surgeons did not blush. And she was certain Lucas would leap onto that reaction as a sign that she was not suited for the vocation.

But, what surprised her was to see a hint of pink line Lucas’s cheeks as she looked up from the sheaths.

His face had reddened slightly as if embarrassed by the scene, or stimulated by it.

Lucas took the tin from her and placed it into his pocket instead of in his valise amongst the other medicines he purchased.

“Let us not tarry. Our first patient awaits.”

Edwina shouldered the basket of victuals and said her farewells to Mr. Morton.

She followed Lucas, weaving in and out of different alleys, trying her best to avoid any refuse left rotting in the street and piles of manure from passing horses that the sweeps had yet to remove.

They stopped before a ramshackle building and Lucas knocked on the front door. Edwina heard the clattering sound of many small feet before the door cracked open and an eye peered out.

"It's Dr. Blakeley!"

The door was thrown open and children of different ages rushed at Lucas as if he was Saint Nicholas bearing gifts for Christmas.

“Off! Off you scoundrels,” he growled goodnaturedly as some of the younger children latched onto his legs. He pushed into the dark room, beckoning Edwina to follow him. “Mary and Sally, come take the baskets.”

Two girls, older than the others, though malnutrition made them look possibly half their age, approached them. Like the rest of the children, their hair was a mousy brown and matted with grease and dirt, though they plaited their hair as nice as they could and hid the majority of it under a yellowing cap.

Edwina handed her basket to the younger of the older girls. She did not know if it was Mary or Sally.

Lucas took off his coat and hung it on a peg and turned to help Edwina out of her cloak. When he did, he hung it on top of his coat.

“We have hot water already boiled for you, Dr. Blakeley,” the older girl said, still clutching the basket with tight fingers. She looked up at Lucas with adoration.

“Thank you, Mary.” The girl flushed, clearly smitten. “If you dig deep down in the basket, you’ll find a meat pie from Mrs. Bagwell,” Lucas said with a wink. The children fell silent with bridled excitement.

A faint voice called out from behind a faded curtain. “Mary, cut up the slices and serve it to your sisters. We can’t let such a boon go to waste. Sally, fill up the basin so Dr. Blakeley can wash.” Both girls hurried off to their tasks as the majority of the younger children followed Mary and the pie.

Sally brought forth the basin and Lucas opened his valise and handed Edwina a bar of lye soap. "Wash your hands and arms up to your elbows."

Edwina did and dried with a clean towel he passed her. Lucas rolled up the sleeves of his shirt washed up after her before turning to draw back the curtain that separated the back of the room with the front.

"Good morning, Emily."

A thin, pasty-faced woman laid on a narrow bed with a small infant latched to her breast. Even from behind Lucas, Edwina could see the frailness in the woman's features-a face too thin, drawn and gray from exhaustion. Her hair, brown, like her children, was dull and brittle.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and smiled at Lucas when he approached her. "Dr. Blakeley, it is always nice to see you." She looked around him, her eyes landing on Edwina and a question formed on her lips.

"This is Miss Sharma, my new apprentice. Spencer will be leaving us soon."

Mrs. Cartwright fell back against her pillow and smiled tentatively at Edwina. "You are welcome, Miss Sharma. I am only sorry I am not properly dressed to greet you."

"It is of no consequence," Edwina said, standing close to the bed. "Who is this?"

Mrs. Cartwright smiled down at the baby. "This is Betsy, my youngest." A whiff of soiled linens wafted up to Edwina's nose. The babe needed a change.

"May I?" Edwina asked. "I will see that she is properly bathed and dried before returning her to you." Mrs. Cartwright handed the babe to Edwina, who cuddled her close to her chest.

Lucas looked up to her with gratitude. "Sponge bath the child. There are clean linens in my valise."

As Edwina moved off, back to the basin, she listened to Lucas murmuring softly to Mrs. Cartwright. On the other side of the room, the children chatted excitedly over the pie.

The babe in Edwina's arms looked up at her with wonder. Betsy was a beautiful child, her eyes blue slightly unfocused as with all newborns. A little wisp of downy brown hair lined her nearly bald head. And her lips puckered as if still searching for her mother’s teat.

Edwina smiled down at her as she retrieved a sponge and clean linen from Lucas's valise. Her fingers brushed against something hard and metallic and she looked down to see a pistol stored carefully alongside the bottles of medicine.

Edwina startled at the sight of a weapon of destruction and death next to medicines and tools used to save lives.

***

"A female apprentice?" Emily asked, her chin pointing to Edwina. Lucas followed her gaze and watched as Edwina gently unwrapped the child’s napkin and set it aside. She tested the water to ensure it had cooled before applying the sponge to the babe’s skin. The baby swung her arms and legs in weak protest, but soon calmed as Edwina began whispering to her.

"Miss Sharma expects to be the first female surgeon in England, perhaps in all of the western world."

"I did not know it could be done."

"She is determined to prove everyone wrong, including me."

"You admire her." Emily looked at Lucas closely. "No, it is more than that, isn't it?"

"I did not come here to talk about myself," Lucas said, dodging the question.

Emily ignored him. "She seems like a fine young lady. Marry her while you still can."

Lucas cast her a repressive look. Emily laughed softly until it turned into a coughing fit. Lucas tilted a glass of tepid tea left on her nightstand towards her lips and she drank until the coughing subsided. "I need you to listen to me, Emily. The next confinement may be your last." He took Emily's hand into his own, feeling for her heartbeat. It was weak, an alarming sign as the woman had given birth to her daughter nearly two weeks ago. She had yet to recover from the ordeal.

The woman smiled wanly at his concern. "Henry wants a son."

"You have seven beautiful daughters, including Betsy." Lucas watched as Edwina cradled the small, now clean, babe in her arms. She cooed at it and Lucas's heart tightened at the sight.

Betsy was born premature, her small body far too thin for a newborn babe. Lucas worried that she would not live out the month. In the past few years, Emily had birthed a handful stillborns and experienced too many miscarriages to count. Her body was broken, but that did not prevent Henry from forcing his needs on her.

"Where is Henry?"

The smile disappeared from Emily's face. "The tavern, I suppose."

It was only half past seven in the morning. Lucas knew Henry's kind. Men who spent the day carousing with their friends, regaling anyone within hearing's distance about old glories, and drinking away any hard earned money that his family desperately needed. Henry, who once was a soldier for the King's army and fought across Spain against the French, could not let go of the past and relived them with every glass of gin until he became intoxicated and completely worthless to his family.

Lucas reached into his pocket and withdrew the tin.

"Sheaths?" Emily asked, her eyes widening. "These are preciously expensive."

"If Henry will not stop forcing his attentions on you, make him wear these."

"He will never allow it." Lucas knew that for some men, the more children they sired, the stronger evidence of their masculine potency and virility. The fact that Henry had only put daughters in Emily was a sign of weakness and a source of shame.

"I don't give a damn what Henry will or will not allow." Lucas placed the tin in Emily's hands. "If he does not listen to you, or forces you again, come to me. I will find you a better situation."

"I cannot leave him. I cannot take my girls from their father."

"He may not be a husband to you in truth, but he forces his husband's privileges on you. Therefore, he should be thinking, first, of how to be a proper husband to you before he even begins to consider how to be an adequate father to the girls."

Emily patted his hand, a hint of sadness on her face. Henry would never treat her with the love and respect that she deserved. It was more than likely that he would kill her before the end.

And, the worst of it all, there was nothing Lucas could do about it.

***

Lucas and Edwina spent the rest of the visit helping the rest of Mrs. Cartwright's daughters clean their small abode. Each girl busied themselves sweeping out the fireplace, wiping down any surfaces, and opening the windows to air out the room which had taken on the stench of boiled cabbage. The children that were too young sat with Mrs. Cartwright on the bed as she entertained them all with song. Mrs. Cartwright had a beautiful soprano voice and more than once Edwina found herself swaying along to the tune.

Lucas lectured on the benefits of proper hygiene to the young girls, helping each of them wash in a tub before the fireplace to ward off any chills.

Edwina diligently washed each of the girl's hair and was thankful to find them free of nits. She brushed her fingers through their hair, untangling any knots, and braided them into a single plait once their hair dried.

While the younger girls washed, Edwina, Mary, and Sally laundered their dirty dresses and hung them out in the small yard in the back to dry. Lucas then checked on each child, checking their vitals (he showed Edwina how to press her fingers against their wrists or neck to feel for a heartbeat) and their teeth (which he claimed to be a good indicator of overall health).

Half the morning passed before they stepped out of Mrs. Cartwright's house. Edwina noticed a man standing in the shadows watching them. His face pockmarked, a clear sign that he once suffered from a pox, and when he caught her eye, he smiled malevolently. Edwina stepped closer to Lucas. The man turned and walked away towards the other side of the street.

"You did not ask for compensation." She arched an eyebrow at Lucas. "Twenty pounds for house calls?"

"Twenty pounds is my fee for Mayfair."

"And here?" Edwina gestured to the dilapidated homes surrounding them.

"Nothing. They cannot afford medical care from a physician. If they are lucky, there is a blacksmith in the neighborhood to remove a rotten tooth or set a broken bone. They certainly cannot afford laudanum to deaden the pain."

Edwina winced. "So, you charge nothing?"

"Don't make me out to be a saint. Mrs. Cartwright, she takes in my mending when she is able. Another patient, my laundry. Mr. Finley, the blacksmith, sharpens my tools when needed."

"All in exchange for your expertise. They have their pride so they pay only in the ways they can."

"Yes."

"What do you do with the money you collect from members of the ton then?"

Lucas shrugged nonchalantly. "Medicine, food, and clothes for those who need it. The rest for Spencer's tuition. He is meant for Oxford this fall." Lucas caught Edwina squinting at him. “What is it?”

“You claim to not be a saint, so I am looking for a halo.”

Lucas snorted. “Don’t. If it does exist, it is tarnished.” The compliment sat uneasy. Edwina did not know the truth. Sins of the past. Sins of the forefathers.

Edwina reached out and caught Lucas’s sleeve, stopping him short. Her eyes grew serious. “You are a good man, Lucas Blakeley. You are these people’s guardian angel even if you do not see it yourself. You’ve saved lives. I know with certainty that Mrs. Cartwright is better today for knowing you than she would have been otherwise.”

“Edwina…”

"Besides, they need you as much as you need them. They provide you with a purpose for your life. In that, I envy you."

"You do not believe your life has purpose?"

"Yes and no. I grew up believing that my whole existence was meant for me to marry a wealthy, if not, titled gentleman, to become his wife and the mother to his children. This," she looked back to Mrs. Cartwright's home, "is a different path, one of my own choosing."

"You acquitted yourself well this morning," Lucas said.

"Thank you." Edwina blushed despite it being faint praise.

Edwina followed Lucas back to Mrs. Bagwell's coffeehouse. The roads appeared busier than before, carriages and wagons from other parts of town arriving to the market to shop for their wares. Edwina pulled her cloak tighter around her in case a servant from another house recognized the lilac dress that marked her as a maid from Bridgerton House.

She noticed John and the unmarked carriage waiting for her around the corner. Her morning with Lucas was coming close to an end.

Lucas pushed open the front door to the coffeehouse, waved at Mrs. Bagwell, and turned to the steps leading up to his apartment. It was midmorning and the earlier din of customers had lulled. A few men and women sat about enjoying their repast before returning to their stalls or secondary vocations.

"Come with me."

Edwina followed him up the narrow flight up stairs to the garret room above. The room looked precisely as did last time, only now it was day and sunlight flickered in through the only window above the bed. The room was smaller than Edwina remembered. It would only take ten paces to cross it entirely from the farthest end to the other. It was even shorter between the wall and the window.

Lucas dropped his valise on the table. Edwina’s eyes followed the movement.

“I saw the firearm in your valise.”

“A precautionary measure. The streets, as you well know, can be dangerous at night.”

“You didn’t have it with you the night of the assembly.”

“No, which was my mistake. Nor did I have this.” Lucas picked up a walking stick that was leaning against the foot of his bed and pushed up at the handle at the end revealing the hidden blade within. “I typically have at least one on me at all times, but the night of assembly, Spencer had this in his possession alongside my greatcoat.”

“Did you ever have to use either before?”

Lucas shook his head. “I abhor violence and refrain from using it whenever possible. Simply just a flash of the pistol is enough. But, in case it isn’t, I keep it loaded at all times.” He withdrew the firearm. It was a double barreled flintlock as Edwina had seen other gentlemen of the ton wield. Though, it wasn’t as embellished as the others as Lucas’s pistol lacked any defining ornamentation. A gentleman’s gun was considered a fashion piece, each design unique to the user. Lucas’s was constructed with plain silver plating and an unadorned wooden grip. “It only has two shots. One for each barrel. And, though I am a fair marksman, it can be unreliable.”

“Thus your sword stick.”

“A contingency plan in place in case things go awry.”

Lucas walked the short distance to his bookshelf and began removing several volumes. “You will need to study these to further your knowledge. As you are unable to attend my lectures and time spent between us will need to be kept at a minimum to not raise suspicions, you will have to rely on self-study.”

“I’ve given it some thought,” Edwina said. “We can double our time together if people believe you are courting me.”

Lucas froze, his hand midair from placing down another book. “Wouldn’t that cross purposes? How will the appearance of courting you find me a wife?”

“It is the only solution I can devise at the moment. And, it is not unusual within the ton for a gentleman to divide his attention amongst the ladies. It will give us an acceptable excuse to be within each other’s company.”

There was a reluctance in the set of Lucas’s shoulders. As if he did not anticipate or was unwilling to spend more time in her company. “Your idea is…sound.”

Edwina grinned. She’d consider any concession from Lucas an achievement. “Also, fair is fair. You spent half your morning teaching me, now it is my turn. Medicine is your expertise, traversing the ton is mine. I spent my entire upbringing preparing me for my come-out last Season. And, I will use every inane and obscure piece of knowledge at my disposal in your hunt for a wife.”

"How do you advise we begin?"

"First, we promenade."

"What?"

"Promenade. To see and be seen."

"That is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard."

"Welcome to the beau monde ."