Sometime after midnight, Lord Aberthorne settled into a deep sleep. He had continued to purge his body for hours, but despite needing more fluids, he seemed restful. Healthy even. The infection should have worsened, but it seemed to have abated. His chest rose and fell evenly, and I whispered to the nurse standing by.

“I need some air, to clear my head. But if he awakens or there are any other changes, please send for me. I will be in the garden.”

She nodded, and I fled outside, letting the cool air fold around me. The sound of peepers echoed from the forest beyond the grounds, and my footsteps crunched loud on the gravel walkway as I turned into the labyrinth, the wall of foliage towering over me. I had already written an urgent letter to my mentor, Dr. Jenner, but his reply would not arrive at least until tomorrow. I might not have tomorrow. Lord Aberthorne could be dead, and his wife would make sure I never worked again, such was the power of the Aberthornes.

I came to the center of the labyrinth, to a replica of some Athenian temple the marchioness had prattled on about during one afternoon. Moonlight shone against the white marble, and I wandered inside, the wind whistling through the columns, throwing long shadows across the floor. I looked up and sucked in my breath. Audrey sat on a bench, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared up at the oculus in the ceiling. I drank in the sight of her delicate profile, her small hands folded together, the way her dark hair flowed down her back. She was Venus, Athena, Artemis. A nymph, a night spirit. My chest tightened, and I shook my head, backing away as the same uncontrollable anger sent stabs of heat to my brain. Of course I would see her in that moment. Of all moments. As if the gods laughed at me, mocking me with all the things I could never have. Once my desires had seemed so simple. A quiet practice, someone to share it with, children maybe. But fate had placed a woman in my path who could never be mine, and it had given me the ability to save so many lives, except for the one that could have changed my fortune. My father, a grocer, had been a superstitious man. He would tell me I had tested God’s will too much, reached too high. Like Icarus, I flew too close to the sun, and now I would pay the price.

My retreating footsteps must have alerted her to my presence, and her small voice called to me.

“Joseph,” she said.

I stopped. “I apologize, Miss Byrnes. I did not mean to disturb you. I had only meant to seek some fresh air.”

“They say Lord Aberthorne does poorly.”

I ran my hands through my hair, still facing away from her. “I suppose I am not the surgeon I thought I was.”

“No,” she said, and the scent of cut grass and lemon hit me, my body tingling at her nearness. She placed her hand on my arm. “No. You did everything you could to try to save his life.”

“Everything is not enough for someone like Lady Aberthorne. This will ruin me.” My limbs tensed, and I clenched my fist, fighting off the flood of desire for her washing over me.

She slipped in front of me, her fingers gripping tighter on my arm. “It won’t. You’ll see.”

I stared down at her wide eyes, her full bottom lip, and I resisted the urge to bend down and kiss her, push her against the wall, reach beneath her nightdress, and…

Enough, Joseph.

I backed away, but she refused to let go of me and instead stepped closer.

“I wish I shared your optimism, Miss Byrnes.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? Our intimacies are over. We are mere acquaintances now, are we not?”

Her eyes glittered with tears, but I wrenched away from her, refusing to soften my tone. I wanted her to hurt in the way I hurt, and it took all my self-control to push the horrible rage down, to resume my place as the calm and constant Dr. Moorland. The torrent of emotions sent a fever to my head, and I knew I should have left lest I cross some terrible line, but I stood in front of her, my feet rooted to the spot.

“I am not your acquaintance, Joseph,” she hissed. “I thought…I thought we could be friends.”

“I have no desire to befriend a gold digging parasite who cares for no one except herself.” I knew it was a lie, but the words felt so satisfying to say. As if by uttering them out loud I could make them true. “Nor do I wish to become your plaything,” I said.

“You are not my plaything, and I’m not—” She cut off, choking back a sob. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Tell me what I should think of you!” I shouted and she shrank away. I bit my lip and turned away, continuing in a softer tone. “Tell me who you really are because I swear I have no idea. You sing and dance and play the coquette, but you fill pages with words that stir my very soul. You made love to me and yet you refused me, choosing to marry a man you swore to despise until you drew your last breath. Tell me who you are. Tell me why you are doing this, and I swear to you, I swear, I will leave you alone forever.”

“I’m not doing this for the money.”

“Then tell me why. I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m not good enough for you!”

Her brow knitted, and she shook her head. “Not good enough?”

“The Princess Roisin, the Irish darling of the ton. You know it’s true. You cannot deny it.”

“Joseph, I…”

“You can fuck me, but you would never stoop so low to marry a doctor. Just say it.”

She shook her head, her hand on her throat. “Stop…”

“Just say it!”

“No.”

I threw my hands in the air. “Fine. Continue your charades. Your lies. I cannot bear to listen to them anymore.”

Her eyes widened, and she grabbed my hand, crushing my palm with her tiny fingers. “Oh, you cannot listen to me? All you’ve done is talk.”

My mouth shut tight, and I looked away, my face burning with shame. I had allowed my anger to overtake my reason, and I could not even bear to remain in my skin. It prickled and itched, my heart so full up of such hopelessness, I thought it might burst.

“Audrey, I cannot bear this,” I whispered.

She threw her arms around me. “I cannot either, but we must.”

The tickle of her breath against my ear sent a rush of pure need down my spine, and I clutched her tighter. “Why? Please tell me why. I beg of you for the last time.”

She let out a long sigh and pulled away, retreating to the bench. She folded her shawl tight around her slight body and hunched over, her elbows resting on her knees.

“It’s…my father,” she said.

I let out an exasperated sound. “I just as soon suspected.”

“No.” She raised her head, and her eyes glistened with tears. “No. You see, an investigation has begun over The Rebel Sons. The accusation is sedition.”

My blood ran cold through my veins, and I took in a long inhale of breath, the pieces starting to come together.

“And Lord Castlevane has helped you to aid your father in exchange…” I turned away, slamming my fist into the wall. That cad. That vile, disgusting villain. Not enough to aid a friend in need. He had to extort this woman…my woman…into a marriage she did not want.

Audrey let out a thin, terrible sound, and her shoulders shook with violent spasms.

I rushed over, collecting her into my arms. “Shh…my love, please…we can find a way to protect your father…somehow…” I had no idea what I was saying, but I would have said anything in that moment to keep Audrey from crying.

“But it’s not my father who needs protection,” she said, wiping her tears away.

“What do you mean?” I leaned in closer, cupping her chin with my palm. If someone had threatened her…if Castlevane had done something to her… My heart thudded against my rib cage, and I wished nothing more than to pound that man’s face into the marble wall of the temple.

“My father didn’t write The Rebel Sons,” she said. “Lyddy did.”

I paused, letting her words sink in. Lyddy had looked so frail, so brittle, as if she would break with the slightest touch. It seemed impossible that tiny woman could incite a riot.

Audrey nodded, reading the confused look on my face. “It’s true. She would never survive the inquest. Imprisonment. And if she is found guilty?”

“Would Dublin Castle even arrest a woman?” I spluttered. “Your own novels contain criticisms of the Empire. Veiled though they may be.”

She snorted. “My novels. No one cares about silly women and their belles lettres. But a play? I don’t know. What I do know is I must protect her at all costs.”

My spine slumped, and my hand slipped away from her face to rest at my side. “And Lord Castlevane has offered you such protection.”

“Yes.” She sniffed, looking away through the columns at the moon beyond. “He has the power to call off the investigation. And it’s not just that.”

“What is it? What more could this horrible man possibly do to you?” I spat out.

Audrey gave me a stricken glance, and I raised my hands in the air.

“I apologize for my tone,” I said. “I am…I am still trying to understand all of this. Please.”

She swallowed hard, wringing her hands. “Rumors of an investigation have traveled to my publisher. Castlevane pressured him, and now he refuses to publish my next novel until the Byrnes’s name has been cleared.”

My mouth gaped open, a new rush of anger flaming through my chest. “That is absurd. To be punished for the sins of your family.”

“No,” she raised her hand to silence me. “Lyddy has not sinned. I know the call to writing prevails like no other. She followed her heart, and I do not blame her.”

“Does she know--?”

Audrey shook her head. “She remains unaware of why I am marrying Castlevane, and such it must be.”

She turned to me and grabbed hold of my hands, squeezing them tightly. “Please swear to me you will keep this a secret. I vowed to my mother on her deathbed I would take care of Lyddy. There is no one else. I must do my duty, Joseph. Please, I need you to understand.”

I wanted to scream, to snatch up Audrey and flee this terrible place, this world where sisters marry for all the wrong reasons, where familial honor trumps love. But all I could do was stare over her shoulder to the shadows of the garden beyond. The moon had passed behind the clouds, and we sat together in the darkness, the sound of our breathing echoing in the marble temple.

“I do understand. Dear god, Audrey, of course I do.” I cradled my head in my hands, wracking my brain for some sort of answer. I tried to look at the problem like I would a medical one. If Audrey’s predicament were a horrible wound, I would treat it. But there are some wounds one cannot heal, not completely. She would live with the scar forever. And so would I.

“There must be some way…” I whispered beneath my breath.

“There isn’t. I even—” She paused, biting her lip.

“You even what?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I even tried to blackmail Lord Castlevane. I sneaked into his office to find something. Anything. I even discovered a secret compartment in his desk, but all I could find was a bottle of something. I have no idea.”

“A bottle in a secret compartment.” My ears pricked up, and I sat up straighter. “Do you know what it was?”

“No, and his footman came in and took it away before I could fully investigate it.”

“You say his footman took it?”

“Yes, he said Castlevane requested it. Why?”

I rose to my feet and paced, my palms sweating.

“What was on the bottle? Was there a label?”

Audrey nodded. “Yes, there was something like a…a pink flower? And some strange writing.”

I let out a long exhale.

It could not be possible. Would Castlevane be so daring? He and Lord Aberthorne had argued about the Act he wanted to push through in Parliament, but it seemed inconceivable the man would go to such great lengths to pass the measure. Yet, what better opportunity to destroy his political rival than to blame his demise on an operation run afoul. The purging made sense. Lord Aberthorne did not have an infection.

He had been poisoned.

“Joseph, what is it?”

“Is the footman still here?”

“I don’t know.” Audrey shrugged.

“Blast it.” I whirled.

Someone could be administering the poison right now.

“I have to go!”

“Joseph, wait!”

Audrey’s cries faded away as I sprinted back to the manor, not stopping until I reached the marquess’s side.