Olivia placed a hand against her breast to calm her racing heart. Dr. Sinclair nearly caught up to her, which would have ruined everything.

  As the hackney moved into the traffic, Olivia relaxed back against the squabs, thankful not to have been discovered.

  She also had to reluctantly admit that she had been impressed with Dr. Sinclair’s presentation and it was not at all what she had expected to hear. Dr. Sinclair had admitted his faults when she’d been certain that he didn’t believe he possessed any. He’d also given credit to others who were of assistance in helping Lady Elaina recover her memories, but did not give names, even though one of them had been her.

  Could Dr. Sinclair have changed so much since last autumn? Olivia dearly hoped that he had because he did have a brilliant mind. One that she had admired. This was surprising in someone of his years. His writings often had the tone of a much older, learned doctor, but Dr. Sinclair had not even reached his thirtieth year.

  He was also quite handsome, which Olivia did acknowledge tonight as she studied his expressions, the use of his hands while talking, and intense tone as he spoke of a topic close to his heart. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as it had always been in her presence, as if he forgot to brush it, and she imagined his light brown eyes burning with passion as they had done when arguing as to the proper treatment his sister should receive.

  Goodness! She never considered passion and Dr. Sinclair in the same thought.

  Except, in this situation, it was for the topic, not something more intimate.

  It was a shame that they could not be colleagues, but he would never accept her perspective because she was a female.

  It was so unfair that only men were allowed to be doctors. She knew nearly as much as anyone educated at the esteemed school in Edinburgh, not that she had ever been a student, but she had read the required materials and had managed to attend several classes, also in disguise. Luckily her frame made it easy for her to be overlooked.

  As the hackney arrived behind Westbrook House, Olivia quickly disembarked and rushed to the kitchen entry, where she was less likely to be seen, only to be met by Corliss. Corliss had been one of the first women to seek shelter at Westbrook House and had quickly become a valued employee who oversaw the home when Olivia and her twin sister, Victoria, were away.

  “What is amiss?” Olivia inquired noting the anxiousness of the older woman, who wrung her hands.

  “It is Miss Eve.”

  “Has the babe arrived?” Olivia would be quite surprised if it had since Eve had only been laboring a few hours when she’d left for the lecture, and there were no signs to indicate that the child would be born so quickly.

  Several babies had been born at Westbrook House, and Olivia was quite used to helping bring new life into the world. Many soiled doves made their way to their doorstep after finding themselves in an interesting condition. Several had also been mistresses to married gentlemen of the ton and when the pregnancy occurred, the protector was no longer protective and wanted nothing to do with their bastard child. When the financial support that the women had come to count on disappeared, they found themselves in a precarious position. Miss Eve was such a person.

  “How regular are her pains?” Olivia asked as she removed her coat and hat.

  “They are nearly one right after the other, but there is no indication that the baby is ready to arrive.”

  Olivia nodded. Each delivery was different. Some labored for exhausting hours, others, hardly any time at all. “As soon as I change, I will go to her,” Olivia assured Corliss.

  “Very good, Lady Olivia, but I have a feeling this is going to be a difficult one.”

  “Well, let us hope that is not the case.”

  Though Olivia didn’t live at Westbrook House, she did keep a chamber where she slept on occasion, but more importantly, where she stored her disguises. It was from here that she became a man so that she could attend the lectures, and where she returned to being a woman so that she could see to the care of the residents and return to the home she shared with her sister.

  After her gentleman’s clothing was neatly folded away, Olivia donned the serviceable gown of black, removed the wig, then quickly arranged her hair into a long braid and pinned it into a knot at the back of her head so that it was out of the way as she attended to the birth.

  “I have got the fire hot, water boiling, sheets and towels and anything else you will need,” Fern, another woman who often assisted in these matters, assured Olivia as she entered the room where Miss Eve labored. When Fern came to them for employment, her only skills had been stitching and cooking. Much to their surprise, she had proved to be an excellent nurse when one was needed.

  Olivia nodded and approached the bed. Miss Eve was pale and writhed in agony, her hair damp with sweat. Already her breaths were heavy, and Olivia feared Miss Eve would become too tired to deliver before it was time.

  “I am going to check the progress, is that all right with you, Eve?”

  The woman barely nodded as her eyes closed and she relaxed for the few moments she had without the crippling pain of contractions.

  Olivia settled at the end of the bed and raised the sheet to check the position of the babe. Given how quickly Eve’s pains were coming, it should be positioned for delivery. However, such was not the case.

  Without revealing her concern, Olivia pulled the blanket back over the woman. “You are doing well, Eve.”

  “Would the birthing chair hasten matters along?” Fern asked.

  “That will not be necessary,” Olivia assured her assistant.

  They employed whatever method was necessary to bring a child into this world. Sometimes it was the birthing chair, and sometimes the patients sat on the end of the bed, others squatted, and then there were some like Eve who were more comfortable lying in the bed. It had been Olivia’s experience that the women who squatted or used the chair had quicker deliveries than those who chose to lie down. However, in this instance, a hurried delivery would only harm Eve.

  “I am going to have cook prepare some raspberry tea and then I will be back to check on you,” Olivia assured the young woman before stepping outside of the room. Raspberry tea was known to help with contractions and relaxation between them.

  Fern followed Olivia into the corridor and shut the door behind her. “What is wrong?” she asked.

  “The baby is breech. It will need to be turned before Miss Eve and the baby perish, but I fear this one is going to be more difficult than the others.”

  Fern paled but nodded.

  “Please send for Dr. Valentine. He attended a lecture at the Royal Society of Medicine and with any luck, he is still there. If not, go to his home.”

  “Yes, Lady Olivia. I will go immediately.”

  Xavier knew that he should return to the lecture hall, as other doctors would have questions, but he had no desire to do so. The enthusiasm he once held when he first drafted the paper and then agreed to lecture had lagged as he continued to question if he should continue his study of the mind. He was a doctor, having earned his degree at Edinburgh Medical College, but he never truly helped anyone.

  In short, Xavier was no longer satisfied, and he wanted to do more. He wanted to help people instead of observing, reading, and attending lectures. How could any physician improve medicine and further cures if they didn’t participate in the actual healing and treating of injuries and illnesses? He’d certainly made no progress when it came to illnesses of the mind, so what was he to do?

  If there was one thing that Xavier hated, it was admitting failure, but perhaps the mind was beyond his grasp, as it was for his colleagues.

  Would he find more satisfaction in healing the body instead?

  Except a gentleman such as he, who had been born of an earl, did not sully his hands in the actual labor of being a surgeon. Nor did they, God forbid, take payment for services, which left Xavier with nothing more than visiting in the homes of those in Society and offering suggestions on how to treat gout or a nervous condition before enjoying a pleasant meal with the family and then going off to a ball or the theatre. He couldn’t imagine anything duller.

  Such were his musings as he stood near the street as he decided if he even wanted to return to the lecture hall to answer the questions of his colleagues. Likely few remained because he had stood out here for so long pondering his future, but he should go back to those who still waited.

  With a deep sigh, he turned for the lecture hall, only to find Mr. Orlando Valentine waiting.

  A smile broke as he greeted his friend. Orlando had attended the Edinburgh Medical College with Xavier and at one time, they’d shared a set of rooms.

  “Orlando, it is good to see you, old friend.” The two shook hands. “How long have you been back in England.”

  “Not long. I came with the last of the injured soldiers returned home from Waterloo.”

  Xavier couldn’t imagine the death, destruction and maiming his friend had witnessed on the Continent.

  “I resigned my position and found a place to practice medicine in London,” he added. “Though I am not certain if it is where I will remain.”

  “You do not wish to be in London?” Xavier questioned.

  “After being an Army surgeon, I long for a quiet village and comfortable home. But I have also found that I am needed here.” Even though Orlando may want one thing, he would likely do another, which was something Xavier understood, as he was in a similar situation.

  “Dr. Valentine, Dr. Valentine,” a miss called, rushing toward them.

  “You use doctor?” Xavier asked. Surgeons were to be addressed as misters.

  “My first position within the Guards was doctor to the higher ranking and titled officers. I became a surgeon because of battle yet decided to retain the title of doctor,” Orlando answered before he addressed the young woman. “What is it, Miss Fern?”

  “Lady Olivia needs you. Miss Eve has gone into labor, but the babe is breech.”

  At the name, the vision of Lady Olivia Westbrook with her golden hair, cool blue eyes, and coral lips pursed in disapproval formed in Xavier’s mind. A most aggravating and opinionated woman whom Xavier had not been able to put from his mind since Elaina began to recover her memories. Of course, this Lady Olivia might not be the same woman.

  “I will hail a hackney to take us directly to Westbrook House.”

  Ah, it was the same woman.

  “I have one, Dr. Valentine.” Miss Fern pointed to the corner where a driver waited.

  Who was Miss Eve? Misses should not be giving birth and they certainly shouldn’t be associated with ladies.

  Why was she there? “I thought Westbrook House was a foundling home.”

  “It is. The Ladies Olivia and Victoria Westbrook also take in women who are living in reduced circumstances and need to escape unpleasant situations,” Orlando explained as they walked to the hackney.

  “I had no idea,” Xavier muttered.

  When they reached the hackney, Orlando assisted Miss Fern inside. “It is good to see you again, Xavier. Perhaps we can enjoy dinner sometime.”

  “Might I join you?” Xavier wasn’t certain why he asked, other than he was curious, and it was good to see his friend again.

  “You are not a surgeon,” Orlando reminded him.

  “I have recently been reconsidering that choice,” Xavier answered honestly.

  “Then come along. I am called to Westbrook House so often it would be good if there was another doctor available when I am not.”

  Xavier hadn’t committed to being a surgeon, but perhaps this would help him decide if he truly wished to do more than consult.

  He settled on the bench beside Orlando and glanced around before he frowned. “Do you not need your medical bag and instruments?” Xavier asked.

  “Lady Olivia will have anything that I might require,” Orlando assured him.

  “You say that you are often called to Westbrook House?”

  “I am currently the only physician they have.” Orlando chuckled. “With up to thirty orphans at any one time, added to two dozen women, there is often need of my services. However, in most instances, it is Lady Olivia who sees to the care of residents of Westbrook House.”

  “She’s a midwife and apothecary,” Miss Fern offered proudly.

  And she reads a lot, Xavier reminded himself. I read, Doctor Sinclair, and study. Understanding of medical issues is not limited to gentlemen. Those were the very words she’d spoken to him when he had questioned her knowledge of amnesia six months ago.

  How much did Lady Olivia really know about medicine and was she doing more harm than good?

  3

  “Am I going to die, Lady Olivia?” Miss Eve rasped between her exhaustive contractions.

  Olivia wished she could assure the young woman that she’d live, as would her babe, but there were no guarantees, especially in such a precarious situation. “I will do my best to see that all is well.” She placed a glass of cold water against Miss Eve’s lips and sent up a quick prayer.

  The laudanum that Olivia had slipped into the second cup of raspberry tea had helped ease only some of the discomfort. Olivia would have given her more, but Eve needed to be awake to push the babe from her womb when the time came.

  If the time came.

  Where were Fern and Dr. Valentine? She had sent for him nearly an hour ago.

  Many babies had been born in Westbrook House, but this was the first breech birth Olivia had ever encountered. Of course, she’d studied and knew that the babe must be turned, but without applicable experience, she feared doing Eve more harm than good and the reason she waited for Dr. Valentine.

  Another contraction wracked Eve’s body and she cried out in pain. With each tightening, more blood flowed, and Olivia feared she might lose Eve and the babe this night if something wasn’t done soon.

  There shouldn’t be blood. Something was terribly wrong.

  “How can I help, Lady Olivia?”

  Olivia blew out a sigh of relief as Dr. Valentine filled the doorway. She crossed and quietly explained the situation.

  Dr. Valentine nodded and came forward.

  “Miss Eve, it is good to see you again,” he greeted.

  She barely nodded.

  “I am going to examine you and see about bringing your babe into the world.”

  Again, Eve nodded.

  Olivia waited as Dr. Valentine first placed his hands about her belly as if determining the size, then examined his patient beneath the sheets as she had done. Eve winced and pain slashed across her features before she cried out. It was then Dr. Valentine emerged, his expression grim.

  “You rest now, Miss Eve.”

  He turned his back, but not before Olivia saw his hands as he used a towel to wipe the blood away. At his nod, Olivia followed him out of the room. She was brought up short to also find Dr. Sinclair waiting in the shadows.

  A sudden nervousness came over Olivia that she had not expected. Why was he here? Surely, he had not recognized her from earlier that evening. If he had, was he here to confront her and remind Olivia of her place?

  “Lady Olivia Westbrook, may I introduce Dr. Xavier Sinclair. He was with me this evening when Miss Fern summoned me.”

  Olivia nearly blew out a sigh. At least he hadn’t placed her at the lecture, but that still did not explain Dr. Sinclair’s presence.

  “We are already acquainted, Dr. Valentine,” Olivia offered, her tone cool. Her fear was that he was still pompous, despite her assessment of him earlier, and would insert himself into what appeared to be a life-threatening situation for Miss Eve and the babe she had yet to deliver.

  “You are correct that the babe is breech,” Dr. Valentine confirmed.

  “Can you turn it?” That was usually the practice.

  “I would attempt to do so, but while her labor is difficult, I fear there may be more wrong. Nor has she progressed in a manner that would allow the babe to be born.”

  It was what Olivia had discovered. “I had hoped that if the babe was in the correct position that it might hasten the opening.”

  “She is already losing too much blood and we could lose both her and the babe in the process. I can attempt a caesarean operation. It may be the only chance the two have.”

  “Have you performed this procedure in the past?” Dr. Sinclair asked.

  “Only once.”

  “She will die without it?” Olivia asked.

  Dr. Valentine offered a grim nod. Then turned to Dr. Sinclair. “Would you be so kind to assist me and Lady Olivia.”

  For a moment, Dr. Sinclair lost some of his color, and a touch of his arrogance. If the situation weren’t so dire, Olivia might have enjoyed witnessing the doctor lose a bit of his confidence.

  “I have no experience in such matters,” Dr. Sinclair objected.

  “Your education is the same as mine,” Dr. Valentine dismissed his concern.

  Dr. Sinclair looked at her. “Should Lady Olivia be present for such a procedure? Women are of a more delicate constitution.”

  Clearly, his arrogance had not completely departed, and Dr. Sinclair managed to insult her as he had done in the past. “As it is a woman who will experience such a procedure, I take objection to our delicate constitution,” Olivia argued.

  “Lady Olivia has assisted me many times,” Dr. Valentine informed Dr. Sinclair. “I find her invaluable.”

  Olivia smiled triumphantly, pleased that at least one of the men respected her.

  Xavier had witnessed several surgeries while attending school, but those had been on cadavers for the purpose of study. This was the first experience of standing across from another doctor, over a living body, as he carefully cut into the belly, identified the uterus, and avoided the bladder. Lady Olivia stood beside Valentine and nearly anticipated what he would need before he asked. Valentine then cut into the womb and retrieved the babe, still alive, thank goodness and handed the infant to Lady Olivia. Xavier glanced at the mother who had been silent following the laudanum provided by Lady Olivia. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed in sleep…unless she had died. He then looked at the foot of the bed. The once white linens were now crimson. “Can you identify the cause for such bleeding?” Xavier asked.