And she always came up with excuses to make herself feel less guilty about breaking Mrs. Robb’s rules by spending time with him. After all, she needed to find out how their patients in steerage were faring, whether he needed her assistance, or how she might help the women who were still weak and sick from the storm.

The past few mornings he’d brought his spyglass to their meetings. They’d taken turns spotting various animals, with Joseph identifying them for her, describing their habitats and giving other fascinating details he’d learned from a book he was reading in his spare time.

Mercy searched the shore for any sign of the penguins she’d witnessed earlier with Joseph. But now that the port city was alive with people coming and going from the several ships in the harbor, the proud little creatures were nowhere to be seen.

The town of Port Stanley was a cluster of bright buildings, smaller than Dartmouth but an inviting place nonetheless. After six weeks at sea, Mercy supposed even a barren, deserted island would have been inviting. She longed to plant both feet on solid ground and walk for as long and as far as her legs would carry her.

Even from a distance, she caught the earthy scent of peat, which Joseph said the people here used for fuel. It was a fine change from the sea air they’d been breathing for weeks.

“There’s your Dr. Colville,” Ann said with an elbow to Mercy’s side.

“Hush now, d’ye hear me,” Mercy scolded.

The other girls followed Ann’s gaze down the deck to where Joseph was exiting his stateroom. He’d changed his attire and looked every bit the fine gentleman he was. With a tall black hat, blue coat, and white trousers, he had the appearance of someone important and prosperous.

“Oh my eye . . .” Ann whistled under her breath. “That man’s sure a fine fella.”

Mercy silently agreed but didn’t dare focus on him for too long. Already the girls half believed she’d become his mistress, though she’d been adamant that nothing had happened the night she found herself trapped with him in steerage. Since then she’d wanted to prove—especially to herself—that Joseph was a friend and nothing more.

There were still times in the dark hours of the night when she couldn’t stop herself from remembering the strength of his arms around her, the solid length of his body shielding her, and the warmth of his whispers against her ear. She’d loved listening to him talk of his travels. He’d painted pictures in her mind about faraway places she’d never known existed.