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Grosvenor Square, Mayfair

London, England

M iss Lydia Tetford sat in the drawing room of her father’s townhouse with a cup of tea in hand and a faint smile curving her lips, for her father was telling her of the evening when he’d been invited to a duke’s home.

He’d thought it strange at the time, even if he was a gentleman and quite popular within the ton , but when the duke invited the assembled company into the parlor, there was a corpse laid out on a table, and he wanted her father to perform a postmortem examination for their amusement.

“Did you do it?”

“Of course I did!” His deep chuckle tugged a grin from her again. “How often is a physician afforded that privilege? But it rankled that I was doing it to entertain bored peers.”

“Your integrity is one of the things I adore about you, Papa.” She took a sip of tea. “Everyone should strive to be like you.”

“I don’t know about that, but it is enough that you and Ian are.”

Ian was her senior by two years, and at eight and twenty, he had managed to set himself up as a physician at a clinic in London who worked mostly with wounded and maimed soldiers who’d returned home from the war and were forgotten by the government and now were shunned largely by society.

While she was exceedingly proud of her brother, it always brought around frustration on her part, for though Ian had gone to school and then was able to study at the University of Edinburgh for his medical education, she had been denied entrance as a student merely due to her sex.

No number of objections on her part or inquiries on her father’s—he was a professor there of some esteem most of the time—would change the minds of the powers-that-be, who were all old, white-haired men and thought themselves apparently God’s gift to mankind.

And while Ian rented rooms for himself, she was stuck living at home with her father until that apparently “magical” day when a man decided she was worthy enough to marry. Such gammon.

“I’m glad you think so, for sometimes I think I take after Mama.” Especially with her flame red hair and cornflower blue eyes and the spattering of freckles over her pale skin that bedeviled her every time she needed to go out into society.

“I would be happy to try and dissuade you, but you have her temper, so there’s no going back.” Her father snickered when she bristled, but when she laughed, he did too. “That is in no way a detriment. Your mother’s temper was what first brought us together.”

“That meeting is one of my favorite stories.” And she’d heard it time out of hand, for her father loved to tell it during gatherings with friends. It was one of those tales that needed no embellishment.

“It was the truth, and I loved her to the last.” Some of the gaiety faded from his face, for they had both lost her three years before, shortly after Lydia had the unfortunate luck to accept the hand of a large, lout Scottish blacksmith who often entered illegal boxing bouts on the weekends for extra coin.

Mostly to appease her mother. But then, she’d been na?ve at the age of three and twenty, and it was her mother’s wish to see her wed. However, that had been quite the mistake, as time had shown.

Not that it mattered now. Her mother had died from complications of pneumonia.

The engagement had been broken a year ago.

Lydia had completed all the coursework her father had set before her and had “passed” the exams that she would have had to take, had she been granted entry into the University of Edinburgh for medical education.

What was more, she’d come away with higher marks than what Ian had scored when he’d taken the exams.

Yet by society’s rules, she would never carry the moniker of doctor, nor would she be allowed to overtly and openly practice medicine.

It made her want to kick things or utter profanities.

“You have gone unexpectedly glum, poppet. Are you remembering your mother?”

With a sigh, she pushed away the bitterness and shook her head. “Perhaps, but mostly the fact I’ll never be a doctor.”

“Not by title, but you have the skills and the affinity for helping people. That makes you a doctor, and I would be delighted to have you in my clinic, especially since my time in the autumn will be taken up by lecturing at Cambridge.”

Which was the reason they’d rented a townhouse in Mayfair to begin with, and it was a good change of pace from living in Edinburgh.

“I appreciate that.” Though she often helped in her father’s clinic no matter where it was, that didn’t lessen the sting of never succeeding on her own merits.

“What else, though? There are shadows in your eyes, poppet.” He set his teacup into its saucer and then put them both on the low table in front of him.

She did the same with her cup and saucer before meeting her father’s gaze. “I’ll admit that I’m frightened.”

“Why?” Surprise jumped into his expression. “I had no idea there was anything wrong.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, but it’s Colin.”

“Your former fiancé Colin?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “He won’t leave me alone.

” She’d broken the engagement due to his refusal to support her dreams of being a doctor and practicing medicine.

Even though her father had never demanded back the dowry he’d already paid to Colin, her former fiancé still managed to bedevil her, no doubt because his ego couldn’t take the rejection.

“Is he threatening you? Even after we moved to London?” Incredulity rang in his voice.

“Not overtly, just in a few letters, but he says he’s coming to London for some boxing matches.

Of course, I think the whole thing is childish and stupidly risky, so I don’t care about that, but I am concerned that he’ll try to perhaps harm me or worse, attempt to take me back to Scotland with him.

” Shivery fear went down her spine. “What should I do?”

Concern creased his brow. “Perhaps you should learn how to defend yourself, since I know you’re far too stubborn to stay in the townhouse where it’s safe.”

“Safe? From a man like Colin? Doesn’t matter if his parents were respectable in Scottish society or if he can trace his family back to the clans. He is a bounder and uses that to intimidate others.” Lydia slowly shook her head. “Perhaps I should carry a scalpel with me wherever I go.”

“And slice your way through the ton ?” He blew out a breath. “Please don’t. The gossip alone will bury you as well as me.”

There was that. “Then I shall fall back on what I know best, since I did learn the rudimentary basics of Japanese old-style jujitsu.” At least the exercise kept her body nimble and mind calm.

“Ha.” Her father grinned. “There are times when I regret your unconventional upbringing while I traveled through England and the Continent with your mother and you children.”

“Why? It allowed me an education that was vastly superior to anything I could have had with tutors or in a finishing school.” When she offered him a grin, they both laughed.

“Seeing the world, interacting with the people therein is much better than sitting in a classroom or going to a boarding school to be ‘finished’.” She shrugged. “What does that mean anyway?”

“I never understood that myself, for a person’s education and growth—regardless of sex—is never finished.”

“Exactly.” With a wink, she took a honey cake from the tea tray.

“Besides, my education was wonderful. I adored every moment. It provided lovely opportunities for me and Ian. I miss Kenji though.” He’d been with her father’s staff for a few years, traveling with them, and at that time, the older man had taught her and Ian how to fight like they’d done in feudal Japan.

It was quite effective and oddly helped to calm her racing thoughts when she’d railed against the world because the stuffy old men in charge of medical training in Scotland refused to admit a woman into their hallowed halls.

We don’t need gatekeepers for education or society. We need determined people who want to change the world. Make it better for everyone.

“I’m glad.” He gazed at her with fondness.

“You mother wished for you to be a grand lady, so she could have a laugh that a half-Scottish woman made it into the English beau monde . Of course, she’d always hoped Ian would marry a society lady, but he’s more deeply entrenched into being a doctor than I am. ”

How could she forget? “I would like to be that preoccupied in my field of choice too.” Yet that was still a fight, and probably would be for decades to come.

“Thankfully Mama died before I managed to disappoint her.” She frowned as her chest tightened with a pain she was well versed in.

“I’m not one for embroidery, painting, or pressing flowers.

I’m rubbish at piano playing and singing isn’t my forte, but I’d rather eat a spider than sit around, wringing my hands and waiting for some man to take notice of me, to have him declare me ‘good enough’ for him to wed and have me bear his children. ”

No, thank you.

“Ah, Lydia, you were always a strong spirit. So much like your mother.” Her father’s grin softened around the edges. “Thank goodness for that. I’d rather have a daughter who is willing to advance society by helping instead of spending time with frivolous hobbies that have no value.”

“I appreciate that, but some days, it seems an overwhelming task in which I talk into a void where no one wants to hear what I have to say.”

“It will get better, but you must be patient.”

She snorted. “That isn’t my strong suit.”

“I think we all know that.” Her father laughed, and that deep booming sound soothed her jagged edges. “Your time will come.”