Nevertheless, Mercy’s ministrations had coaxed life back into Miss Lawrence. Even now, as Mercy perched on the edge of the low bed, determination etched her profile. “One more sip, miss. Just one more,” she murmured.

Miss Lawrence allowed Mercy to feed her another spoonful before sagging against the pillows. Mercy lowered the tin cup and then smoothed a loose strand of the woman’s hair back under her nightcap.

“Thank you, Mercy,” Miss Lawrence said drowsily.

Mercy kissed the woman’s forehead with a tenderness that made Joseph’s chest pinch. How was she able to give so much to others when she had so little herself? She’d admitted to the direness of her living conditions and difficulty of her life. If such adversity had left its mark on her for the worse, he didn’t see any sign of it.

She stood and began to stretch. At the sight of him, she stiffened and rapidly turned her back.

For the past few days while she’d been tending Miss Lawrence, he’d pushed aside her brusqueness, had told himself she was focused upon the sick woman and was simply too busy to acknowledge him.

He’d kept his distance as well, giving the women the privacy he thought they wanted. But now that Miss Lawrence was mending, Mercy had no reason to treat him as though he had the Black Plague, did she?

He leaned against the doorframe, unwilling to withdraw this time. “Have I offended you in some way, Miss Wilkins?”

She spun around, her eyes wide.

“I give you leave to speak freely.”

“Sir?” Something flashed in her pretty eyes. Was it fear?

“Please do not mince the truth.”

She glanced at Miss Lawrence. The gentlewoman’s eyes were closed, and she was breathing restfully—likely asleep. Even so, Mercy slipped past him outside the room.

As he moved away from the stateroom, the sun blazed above the ship, drying the main deck from the drenching it had received during the previous week’s gale. Only a few puddles remained, and soon he would be carefully rationing their water supply. As the ship’s surgeon, his responsibilities included not only caring for the ill but also rationing food, checking for food poisoning, and overseeing the burial of the dead at sea.

The heat soaked into his dark coat, reminding him to wear his lighter colors from hence forward. He’d prefer to go about in his shirt and waistcoat, discarding his coat altogether as the sailors did, but he had already defied convention oft enough and so continued to wear his coat when outside his stateroom, even in the tropical sun.