"Damn this rain," Lucas Blakeley muttered as he stepped out of the hackney. He pulled his black beaver hat over his eyes and adjusted his cloak to keep as much of the rain off his clothes. But, he knew the battle would be futile. He could feel the rain dribbling down the back of his neck and into his collar drenching his skin within. In one hand, he clutched a black leather valise cracked from years of use.

"This better not be another damned headache," he growled out to the young man who hopped out of the hackney after him. Spencer Smith reached back into the hackney and pulled out his own leather valise, this one newer and shinier than Lucas's. The young man was Lucas's junior by six years and in his second year of apprenticeship under Lucas’s tutelage.

"Wait for us," Lucas said to the driver, passing the man a few shillings. "This will not be long."

Lucas walked down the long stone pathway that led up to the main entrance of the manor. The front of the manor towered over the path and was constructed of white Portland stone that was smoothed over so elegantly that one could barely tell one large piece from another. Four columns held up the stone awning that presided over an outdoor walk. A large, ornate door awaited them, but Lucas took a sharp right past the side of the house until he found the servant's entrance. People in his profession did not walk through the main entrance of a manor owned by a lord or lady of the ton . Despite treating half the residents in Mayfair, Lucas knew his place.

"Perhaps it is something serious...something interesting?" Spencer said as he knocked on the plain wooden door before them. The young man was still boyish in appearance with his shock of red hair, freckled face, and long limbs he had yet to grow into.

Lucas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "In Mayfair, it never is. Migraine for the ladies, a flare up of gout for the men. Overindulgence being the cause for both."

Before he could say more, a harried maid dressed in a crimson uniform opened the door. Her white cap sat askewed on her head and Lucas resisted the urge to correct it. "Thank goodness you're here," the maid said, her eyes taking Lucas in. She narrowed them in suspicion. "You are the surgeon, ain't you?"

"Yes," he said pushing his way past her and into a dimly lit hallway. Lucas hadn't the time to quibble with the maid. He had rushed over from treating his real patients out in St. Giles. He hadn't the chance to change his clothes before receiving the missive from Lady Danbury's footman requesting his immediate attendance at her manor and knew he was splattered with mud and God knows what else.

It was odd to receive such an urgent letter from her or any letter at all. He had not spoken to Lady Danbury in years ever since he left the confines of the ton to pursue his own interests. And, it was only because of the kindness that she extended to his family that he felt the necessity to even take notice of it.

"Where is the patient?" Lucas asked the maid. The sooner he was finished, the quicker he could resume his rounds. It was only midmorning, but with the torrential rainfall and his long list of sick to tend to, that Spencer kept dry in his own pocket, it would keep both men busy well into evening.

The maid frowned at his tone but nodded curtly at him as if to bid him to follow. She walked down the hall to another door and opened it into the main atrium. Lucas spared a passing glance at his surroundings. Beautiful paintings hung on the walls and exquisite vases filled with hothouse flowers filled the room. All excruciatingly expensive. Just one painting would set a family of six from Whitechapel for life.

Not much had changed when he was here last.

Lucas and Spencer followed the maid up two flights of stairs before turning down a hallway to the left and into the last room on the right. Immediately, his eyes fell on the woman laying in the bed with her eyes closed and her breath shallow. Despite her dark skin, Lucas could see the grayness in her pallor.

Lucas peeled off his wet gloves and greatcoat and tossed both aside not caring who or what he drenched. "I need a basin of hot water," he said to no one in particular and could hear the rustle of activity behind him.

"Dr. Blakeley." Lucas looked up and met Lady Danbury's eyes. She appeared much as he remembered, austere with a glint of brilliant intelligence in her brown eyes. The same eyes that were now filled with concern. He hesitated for a moment before giving her a slight bow. Ancient knowledge of etiquette training rushed forward in his mind, ones that he thought he had disposed of for more practical information such as, for instance, treating a patient with head trauma.

Which is what he recognized instantly when his face fell on the unconscious woman's face.

"Thank you for coming," Lady Danbury said as Lucas pulled his attention away from her to the patient. "I did not–"

"How long has she been unconscious?"

Lady Danbury looked stunned for a moment at being cut off. Lucas hid a small smile as he imagined he was first to do so in a long while.

" She . Her name is Kate or Miss Sharma to you," a voice chimed out. It was soft, but there was an edge of steel in it.

Lucas peered past Lady Danbury to a younger, smaller woman who looked very similar to the woman laying in the bed, or Kate, Miss Sharma. He quickly took her in. The girl was uncommonly pretty despite the redlined eyes and puffiness in her face from crying and he deduced she must be the sister, younger sister, of the unconscious woman. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward slightly to study her face. "Half sister."

"What?" The younger woman said, her eyes widening in alarm.

"You are her younger half sister. There are similarities between you two, like the soft texture of your hair, and the rich color of your skin. And I would deduce the same shade of brown in the color of your eyes. But, while," Lucas paused, " Miss Sharma has a more square-shaped face, yours is softer, rounder. There is a slight Englishness in your features as well. If I were to guess, I would say that someone in your bloodline is Caucasian. Perhaps a grandparent, which would make you of mixed blood, a quarter Caucasian and three-quarters Indian. Am I correct?"

The younger woman stared back at him flabbergasted.

Spencer looked at both ladies with a strained expression on his face. "Don't mind him. He does this all the time."

Lady Danbury cleared her throat. "May I present Miss Edwina Sharma?"

Lucas nodded and muttered, "Charmed, I'm sure."

A flash of irritation passed through Miss Edwina's eyes.

Before anyone could speak, a maid brought in a basin of hot water. Lucas immediately rolled up his sleeves and dunked both hands into the water. He lathered lye soap up his arms before rinsing them both clean. He nodded for Spencer to do the same.

"You did not answer my question. How long has she been unconscious?"

"Three hours," Miss Edwina replied.

"Three hours? And, I was only summoned now?"

Lady Danbury cleared her throat. "Another surgeon has already treated Miss Sharma."

Lucas raised his eyebrows in question.

"A Dr. Crawford, I believe."

Lucas snorted in derision. "Then I can see why you sent for me."

"Your name was mentioned when I inquired with my staff who to contact. I did not know you were practicing medicine. I was unaware you were even in London."

Lucas was no longer paying attention. After drying his hands on a clean towel, he leaned over Miss Sharma. He reached gently around the back of her head and felt the large knot at the base. It was swollen and tender, and the skin had broken. There were rough stitches that were done hastily and, in his opinion, incorrectly. It would leave a scar.

"Her skull has not cracked," he said, still gently pressing around Miss Sharma's head and neck. "Nor is her neck injured. She has not broken her spine."

"Kate fell from a horse," Miss Edwina said. Lucas looked at her and nodded. It was about right. The fall would not be far from the ground, but be enough force to cause Miss Sharma's current state.

He checked her eyes next, pulling up each eyelid. They were blank and rolled up to the back of her head so only the whites were showing.

"Dr. Crawford recommended bleeding," Lady Danbury said.

"The madman would," Lucas said under his breath before standing and looking at the two ladies. "No, bleeding will cause Miss Sharma's condition to worsen. She needs all her strength to recover. And, recover she shall." He looked up for a moment as if in deep thought. "She will be out of bed within the week."

Both women looked alarmed.

"How can you say such a thing? You barely looked at her? Dr. Crawford was here for hours."

Lucas looked down at Miss Edwina again with impatience. " I know ."

The room fell into an awkward silence. Spencer cleared his throat. "If I may, Dr. Blakeley is rarely wrong about these things. I am sure your sister will be as right as rain in a few days."

A crack of thunder rent through the air and Lucas winced at Spencer's choice of words.

Even though Miss Edwina was a head shorter than Lucas, she looked down her nose at him. Her eyes flashed with anger. "You had better be right."

Lucas snatched her hand and pulled her towards him and the bed. Miss Edwina yelped out in surprise. Even Spencer seemed to gasp out loud at the unexpected action. Lucas dismissed them both and pulled off Miss Edwina's glove. He held her hand in his, hers smooth and soft and that of a ladies’ and his rough and calloused. He watched her as she carefully tucked away the surprise and looked up at him expectantly, her lips pressed into a flat line of displeasure. He smiled inwardly and drew her closer before placing her hand against her sister's forehead, keeping his hand on top of hers.

"Do you feel this?"

"Yes," came a breathy reply. So she was not so unaffected, he thought.

"Your sister's brow is dry and warm to the touch. She is not overtly cold nor hot. The greatest fear now is for her to take a fever from the rain or an infection from her wound. But, she has not done so yet. It is your duty to keep the fever at bay until she awakens."

Lucas picked up Miss Edwina's hand again and brought it lower until he pressed it against her sister's chest. "Do you feel this?" His gaze caught the younger woman's whose began to fill with tears as she gave him a short nod. "Her heart beat is strong. She is young. She will recover."

Lucas abruptly dropped Miss Edwina's hand and walked to his valise and opened it. He took out a brown bottle and handed it to her. "This is a concoction of my own making. Apply it three times to Miss Sharma's wound after cleaning it with plain soap and hot water. It will reduce the chance of infection. Make sure that she has plenty of water and most importantly beef tea to drink. Without proper food, she will not be able to regain her strength."

"How am I to feed her if she is unconscious?" Miss Edwina asked.

Lucas reached out, placing two of his fingers on her throat. He could feel her swallow uncomfortably but she did not pull away. "You will prop her up against some pillows until she is in a sitting position. Spoon her small mouthfuls of broth and then..." He stroked his fingers down Miss Edwina's throat. His eyes followed the movement. Her throat pulsed reflexively under the pressure of his fingers. "By doing this, you will get her to swallow."

Lady Danbury cleared her throat and Lucas stepped quickly away. "Not too much, mind you. You don't want to drown your poor sister," he said as he packed up his valise.

Lucas directed his attention to Lady Danbury who was watching him with intense interest. "Twenty pounds."

"Twenty pounds?" Lady Danbury replied, confused.

"For the examination. Twenty pounds."

Lady Danbury's eyes widened. "That is outrageous."

"It is my fee for house calls, milady. And, I expect payment immediately. I don't trust your sort to pay your bills on time."

Both ladies gasped before Lady Danbury turned a shrewd look at Lucas. "Well, follow me then. I am sure I have that amount in my study."

Lucas threw on his greatcoat and grabbed his valise. He took in one final look of Miss Edwina as he was sure he would not see her again as her sister was set to make a full recovery. For a brief moment, he had an unkind thought wishing Miss Sharma would take a turn for the worse. But, he was never wrong. She would be out of bed within a week.

Miss Edwina stood stock still by the edge of her sister's bed, precisely where he had left her.

She was uncommonly pretty, he thought again, in her pink muslin day dress embroidered with red roses and with her soft features, bright eyes now clear of tears, and perfectly formed lips that were certainly meant for kissing and much more. He sighed inwardly at the loss. If she was only born a scullery maid or some such. Ah well…

Lucas turned and left without a final farewell.

***

"Highway robbery," Lady Danbury said as she returned to Kate's room.

"Is he gone?" Edwina asked. Strangely, she could not move from the place where she stood. It was as if she was frozen in place. The moment he had touched her throat, it felt as if her body was instantly ignited. Both ice and fire. All she wanted to do was lean into him. Edwina swallowed, suppressing the thought.

"Dr. Blakeley? Yes, after he cleared out my purse, I daresay he is."

"Do you know him?"

"I did not recognize his name at first, Blakeley, but he must be Jonathan Blakeley's younger son. I believe his name is Lucas. He disappeared from society years ago when he came of age. He must have gone to become a surgeon. As you know, there is not much one can do if one is born the second son."

"So, he is poor?"

Lady Danbury wrinkled her nose at the idea. "I could not say. His father was wealthy enough. Quite the rogue and adventurer. Ran ships between here and China for the tea business. And, Jonathan was the second son of the former Earl of Greymoor."

Greymoor . Edwina did not know the name, but that was unsurprisingly as this was her first time in London and Kate was the one who spent all the hours poring over every family in Debrett's.

"He does not look much like his father, who had light hair and eyes," Lady Danbury continued. She came to sit on the bed and took one of Kate's hands into hers. "He must take after his mother. From what I recall, Jonathan had married a Chinese woman from Hong Kong."

That explained his look, Edwina thought. The pale, almost porcelain skin, high cheekbones, and exotically slanted eyes that were nearly black. His hair, which was overtly long compared to current styles, was black. Even his clothes were black. Black trousers, waistcoat, and when he peeled off his greatcoat, Edwina was surprised to see that his shirt and cravat were black as well. It was as if the specter of Death had walked into the room. Dr. Blakeley was also tall and lean, standing over a head taller than her when he had stepped close.

Edwina shivered, drawing Lady Danbury's attention. "Are you all right, child? It has been a taxing day for you. Perhaps you would like to lie down as your mother has done?"

Edwina shook her head and smiled. "No, I am quite fine. I would like to stay by Kate's side."

Lady Danbury stood. "Well, do not tire yourself out. Or, I will have to call Dr. Blakeley back to care for you...and God knows, I won't be able to afford it." Lady Danbury cackled with laughter and left the room.

***

It was past eleven in the evening when Lucas returned back to the room he rented on top of Mrs. Bagwell's coffee shop. The fire she had set for him when she delivered his dinner had already died out and Lucas spent a few minutes reigniting it and putting his hands towards the fire to remove the chill that settled into his body. The rain did not relent and while bearable during the day, by night it had turned icy. Lucas spent the better of the day drenched to the skin.

Peeling off the wet layers, Lucas hung them up carefully by the fire so they would dry by morning. The room was spartan, as he preferred it, with only a single small table that he used both for dining and as his desk, two chairs (he had only one for years until he took Spencer on as an apprentice and realized that the boy needed somewhere to sit), and a small dresser and bed tucked away in the corner. The only piece of furniture of note was his bookcase, which took up one entire wall of the room and was filled to bursting with books on current and past medical practices from all different countries.

Standing only in his trousers, Lucas went to the table and uncovered the beef stew that had congealed in his absence. As part of his arrangement with Mrs. Bagwell, she provided him with breakfast and dinner, laundered his clothes, and cleaned his small apartment for two pounds a month. And, most importantly, all the coffee he could drink. He detested tea.

Breaking off a chunk of old bread, he prodded the stew being too hungry to bother with reheating his meal. The Jenson twins were both colicky and Mrs. Jenson struggled to feed her ever growing brood of ten children as was. He left her fresh bread and milk purchased a bit from the money he received from Lady Danbury. The rest of the money was spent on buying medicine for the rest of his patients, laudanum for those in pain, and fresh food for the rest. Most of those sick suffered from poor diet which was unavoidable to those who lived on the bottom most rung of society.

Lucas took out a small black book and began to make notes of his day.

Mr. D Patel, broken foot from it being driven over by a wagon. Given laudanum for the pain and told to remain off of it for four weeks to properly heal.

Mrs. J Rochester, swollen eye from "fall". Suspect drunken sot of a husband. Recommended a beefsteak or ice. Gave information to Reverend Leigh's chapel for women and children.

Ms. K Sharma, fall from horse. Swelling in head, stitches provided by Dr. Crawford –

Lucas snorted before continuing.

Poorly done. Will leave a scar. Gave ointment to Ms. E Sharma to prevent infection.

The quill in his hand stilled. Miss Edwina Sharma . He was surprised that his thoughts returned to her throughout the day. She really was quite beautiful, a bright moment in what would have otherwise been another bleak day. Lucas was certain he would not see her again. Their worlds were too different, too far apart. She lived in Mayfair amongst the mansions. He lived above a coffeehouse in Covent Garden surrounded by scoundrels and whores.

And, he was far too busy to think of the chit.

In frustration, Lucas tossed his notebook aside. He would finish later. He took the bundle of letters that Mrs. Bagwell had received on his behalf. He was expecting a letter from America and it was several weeks late. Lucas flipped through the stack until he stopped suddenly at one and tore it open. His eyes ran through the contents twice before crushing the letter in his grip.

"Fuck."

The Earl of Greymoor was dead.