"Well, considering that after he asked me, I immediately booked a carriage here and wrote to Saint Bartholomew's about an appointment with the hospital governors' board, I can't say that I am."

"I thought you liked Callum."

These woolly little bastards are really clinging. I catch the ragged edge of my thumbnail in the grain of the material and pull up a loop of thread. "I do. He's kind, and he makes me laugh—sometimes, if the joke is clever—and he works very hard. But I like a lot of people. I like you—doesn't mean I want to marry you."

"Thank God, because I'm spoken for."

I'm resisting the urge to fall face-forward into the bed—I would have been more likely to indulge had I not been concerned that the mattress would offer no give and I'd be left with a broken nose. "Callum is sweet. And he's helped me. But he thinks he's saving me from all my ambition when really I can't see any future scenario where I come to be as interested in Callum as I am in medicine. Or interested in anyone that much. Or interested in doing anything other than studying medicine." I release a long breath, fluttering the fine hairs escaping my plait. "But I could do much worse than a kind baker who owns a shop and worships me."

"In my experience, it's less gratifying for both parties if that worship is single-sided." Percy rubs a hand over his face. I can tell he's getting drowsy, and I think he might beg to retire, but instead he says, "Not to abandon this subject entirely, but can we return to something for a moment? What was that about the Saint Bart's Hospital board?"

"Oh." The subject inspires in me an entirely different sort of anxiety than talking about Callum. "I requested an appointment with the hospital governors."

"To be admitted as ... a patient?"

"No. To make a petition to study medicine there. Though they don't know that's what I want to talk to them about. I may have implied the meeting would be to discuss a financial donation I wanted to make to the hospital." I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. It sounds far worse when I say it aloud. Particularly to Saint Percy. "Should I not have done that?"

He shrugs. "You could have picked a less dramatically different reason. They're all going to wrench their necks from the shift in topic."

"It was the only way I could be sure they'd see me. Nowhere in Edinburgh will have me as a student—not any of the hospitals or the private physicians or teachers. I'd have to leave eventually if I want schooling and a license." I let my head fall forward so that it's resting against the headboard of the bed. "I didn't realize it would be so hard."

"To study medicine?"

Yes, I think, but also to be a woman alone in the world. My character was forged by independence and self-sufficiency in the face of loneliness, so I assumed the tools for survival were already in my kit, it was just a matter of learning to use them. But not only do I not have the tools, I have no plans and no supplies and seem to be working in a different medium entirely. And, because I'm a woman, I'm forced to do it all with my hands tied behind my back.

Percy shifts his weight and flinches, a shudder running up his arm and twisting his shoulder. I sit up. "Are you all right?"

"I'm sore. I'm always so sore after a fit."

"Did you fall?"

"No, I was asleep when it happened. In bed. Maybe I wasn't asleep." He presses the heel of his hand into his forehead. "I don't remember. Sorry, I was feeling awake but I'm getting fuzzy again, and I can't remember the last thing we talked about."

"You should sleep."

"Do you mind?"

"Of course not." I stand up, smoothing out my skirt where it's gotten rucked up over my knees. "I am more than capable of entertaining myself. Do you need anything?"

Excerpted from The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee. Copyright © 2018 by Mackenzi Lee. Excerpted by permission of Katherine Tegan Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.