“Oh, gracious heavens,” Miss Lawrence murmured from her spot several women down. “What have I gotten myself into?” She pumped her fan rapidly, her face pale, her auburn hair pulled back under a pretty hat.

In all the excitement before leaving the Tynemouth, one of the middle-class women had fainted while several others worked themselves into states of dizziness. And now Mercy could see that Miss Lawrence was about to faint as well.

Mercy released her grip on the rail and reached the delicate gentlewoman just as her knees crumpled. Gasps and exclamations broke out among the women that another of their own had succumbed to the excitement.

“There, there, dear heart.” Mercy lowered Miss Lawrence gently to the deck. As she knelt, she wasn’t surprised to see Joseph approaching.

After the earlier excitability, he’d announced to Mr. Scott that he planned to accompany the women ashore. When he’d boarded the Forward shortly after the women, Mercy attempted to stay as far away from him as possible and had avoided looking at him at all costs.

Mr. Scott’s threat of the previous day to find her a husband had haunted her well into the night, growing more terrifying the closer she drew to the shore.

“Has she fainted?” Joseph asked, kneeling and finding Miss Lawrence’s pulse.

“Aye, I’d say so.” Mercy focused upon their patient and refused to look at Joseph, even though she desperately wanted to study his face for any lingering affection, to determine what he really felt for her.

Joseph checked Miss Lawrence’s breathing and then dug through the medical bag next to him. “Seems that many of the women are suffering from hysteria.”

Mercy wasn’t sure what hysteria was, so she only nodded.

“Are you not anxious as well?” His question was soft and meant for her ears alone.

She wanted to answer him truthfully, to tell him what Mr. Scott had threatened. But she suspected he’d only propose marriage again. He was noble like that. He’d marry a lowly woman like her without thinking of the cost to himself. And she couldn’t let him do it.

“I’m ready to put my feet to the ground.” She glanced sideways to where Mr. Scott stood at the railing with his wife and two daughters, and she prayed Joseph would finish up quickly and revive Miss Lawrence before Mr. Scott caught them speaking.

Joseph was still digging through his medical bag, albeit slowly, until he stopped altogether. He remained unmoving, his hand in the bag, until finally she looked up at him. His warm brown eyes were fixed upon her, waiting, desiring, asking.

A spot of heat settled in her abdomen, a spot that would easily spread if she dwelt upon how much she wanted to be in his arms, tucked against his chest, with his hands pressed against her back.