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England
Spring 1814
No conventional daughter of an earl desired to become a physician.
Henrietta Gordon did not fool herself into thinking she was conventional. As a woman of limited funds and genteel birth, there were very few socially acceptable dreams to dream. And while dreams were all well and good, accomplishment came by setting goals and pursuing them.
Which was why, despite the increasing suspicion that in order to avoid matrimony she might have to take on a governess post, she was determined to prepare for the life she wanted, rather than the life being foisted upon her.
If there was one thing she had learned in her twenty-four years that served her well, it was to persist in what she wanted.
On this brooding English afternoon, Henrietta had taken refuge in Lady Brandewyne’s expansive library. To her great delight, she found a copy of A Practical Synopsis of the Materia Alimentaria and Materia Medica. No sooner had she curled up in a plush wingback chair than Lady Brandewyne swept into the room.
The dowager countess, an old friend of Uncle William’s, had kindly allowed Henrietta to stay with her while she recovered from a bout of rheumatic fever. Uncle William had gone to London to teach a medical seminar. He’d promised to return to collect Henrietta, but it had been a month since he left, and she began to doubt his intentions.
Especially with Lady Brandewyne’s daily insinuations.
The fearsome lady now paused when she saw Henrietta reading rather than practicing the pianoforte, or performing some other expected feat of ladyhood. She sniffed, her regal, powdered chin tilted to display her disapproval more effectively.
“I have received a report that a man was found wounded nearby. His servants are bringing him here. Since the apothecary is on another call at the moment, it seems as though I may have need of your expertise.” She delivered the words stiffly, and Henrietta hid a smile behind the professionalism her uncle had taught her to display.
“Do we know the nature of his wounds? Will he require sutures?” She placed the book on a side table and stood.
“No, and I do not want you overly involved with his care. As soon as the apothecary arrives, you will remove yourself.”
Henrietta felt her eyebrows fly upward at Lady Brandewyne’s dogmatic tone. She hadn’t practiced medicine in England thus far. She’d been too focused on recovering from illness and Lady Brandewyne disapproved of her chosen vocation, at any rate. While here, she must observe propriety much more strictly than she had in the Americas.
Not for long, she comforted herself. Soon she’d be assisting Uncle William again, propriety be hanged. There were lives to be saved. Soldiers’ hands to be held while they verbalized their final goodbyes. Mothers to comfort as they birthed their children.
Her throat tightened.
As though noticing her discomfort, Lady Brandewyne drew near. “Calm yourself, my dear. I’m sure the apothecary will care for him completely. Let us speak of a happier subject. I’ve arranged a house party in two weeks’ time to relieve the tedium of your convalescence. You may want to consider encouraging a suitor.”
“A suitor?”
“It is past time for you to marry.”
Before