Mercy skimmed her fingers across the woman’s forehead, feeling for fever. Though her skin was clammy, it wasn’t hot, not even warm.

The stench of vomit permeated the cramped cabin. The lantern Harry had hung above the bed revealed that Miss Lawrence’s lovely satin gown was coated with the filth.

Mercy set about fetching warm water and clean clothes for Miss Lawrence. When she returned, the woman was still in the same position as before. Mercy gently rolled her patient over, noting her delicate features, unblemished pale skin, and hair that was a beautiful copper color. Waves had come loose from an elegant coil and lay in tangled strands around her neck and down her back.

Miss Lawrence’s long lashes resting against her skin made the contrast between her burnished hair and light skin more pronounced, as did the sprinkling of freckles over her face.

“I’ll get you cleaned up right well,” Mercy said softly, not sure if the woman could hear her. “Then you’ll set to feeling better in no time.”

As Mercy began to unbutton the woman’s shirt, her lashes flittered up, revealing green eyes. The hue was lovely, one Mercy hadn’t seen before. She didn’t have anything to compare the color to, except perhaps the sun-warmed fields they’d passed during their train journey from London to Dartmouth.

“Thank you . . . ?”

“Mercy Wilkins, miss.”

“Thank you, Mercy,” Miss Lawrence whispered in a raspy voice. “But I shall wait to change until I’m no longer sick.”

“When’s the last time you heaved?”

“I cannot recall.”

Mercy searched Miss Lawrence’s gown. “You’re dry, which means you’re most likely over the worst of it.”

Miss Lawrence’s lashes fell, and she held herself so still that Mercy began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep again. “Miss Lawrence?”

“If you leave the clean garments,” the woman whispered, “I shall change momentarily.”

“Dr. Colville thought you’d prefer to have a woman tending you, miss. I’m here to stay and help where I can.”

It had been mighty generous of the captain and Dr. Colville to move Miss Lawrence amidships to make her more comfortable. If only Sarah could be moved as well. But Mercy knew well enough that a street orphan like Sarah wouldn’t get the same fine treatment as a wealthy gentlewoman.

Miss Lawrence opened her eyes, and Mercy caught sight of shadows of pain in them. The beautiful woman’s lips parted as if she might protest further, but then she seemed to school her face into resignation.