He couldn’t stop himself from studying her pale face, the cupid’s bow in her upper lip, the high cheekbones, the thinly sculpted brows. And her eyes . . .

Her lashes dropped before he could drown in the blue-green sea of her eyes. The mug in her hand shook just slightly. “If you’d rather have a meal, sir, I can go back to the galley—”

“No, Miss Wilkins,” he said rapidly and took the mug. “The coffee is perfect.”

She took a step back as though to leave.

“But only,” he continued, “if you’ll sit with me a moment and have some too.”

She’d worked tirelessly at his side since the early hours of the morning when she’d come down into steerage to find him. Thankfully, the broken arm had been the worst of the injuries there. He’d sutured several lacerations, removed a nail from a foot, and treated a concussion.

After they finished, they’d gone above and first tended Sarah and Mrs. Robb before moving on to help the rest of the sick passengers. They then returned to steerage to check on the patients, and all the while Mercy had soothed and loved everyone she came across.

He’d never met anyone like her. And now all he could think about was how much he wanted to sit with her, drink a cup of coffee, and find out more about her.

“Sir?” She lifted her gaze, giving him a glimpse of her confusion.

Poor young women didn’t sit and drink coffee and talk with wealthy lords. Especially the poor women on this bride ship who’d been forbidden to interact with the other passengers.

“Wait just a moment.” He stood and thrust the mug back into her hands. Then he strode two doors down to the passenger salon, retrieved another armchair, and dragged it outside.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the chair, particularly when he positioned it next to his. He took the coffee from her, lowered himself into his seat, and waved at the new chair. “Please, Miss Wilkins. You deserve a short rest.”

She glanced with longing at the chair but then peered over her shoulder in the direction of the bride cabins. The worry crinkling the corners of her eyes revealed her concern that her vigilant chaperones might come out of their cabins and observe her sitting with him. Surely she knew she had nothing to worry about, at least for a few more hours. Mrs. Robb was still under the effects of the laudanum he’d administered to ease the pain of her head injury. And Mr. Scott and his family were miserably still abed.

“As the ship’s surgeon, no one can argue with my orders—expressly the order that you must take a moment to rest, otherwise you will find yourself just as ill as the others.”