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“One of the doctors is moving to Stirling?” she asked, trying to clear the fog of sleep from her mind.

“No. That is Father’s part to arrange. But—listen—I found someone willing to add their name to your father’s research!”

She sat bolt upright, every drowsy thought vanishing in an instant. “What?”

“Dr. Hawley. I showed him one of your father’s journals. As it turns out, he has dabbled in similar theories. He said that if you can assist him in compiling and organizing your father’s work alongside his own, he will publish it and credit your father.”

The words struck hard. Alarmed, she sprang from the bed and hastened to her dressing table, where her valise lay open beside the precious stack of leather-bound volumes. Her gaze swept over them and her breath caught. One was missing.

She turned, pale with alarm. “Where is it?”

Julius’s face pinched in concern. He reached into his coat and withdrew the worn leather-bound notebook. “It is here. Did I … did I make a mistake?”

Audrey stared at the notebook, befuddled. She had panicked when she believed it was gone, but now that she knew it was safe, she was gradually gathering the threads of what Julius was trying to tell her. He was usually more lucid, but the hour was late, and he must be weary after such a long day.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Julius’s face relaxed in relief. “You will like Dr. Hawley. He put me in mind of Dr. Gideon. Indeed, he put me in mind of you. We spoke about the barbaric practices still rife within the field. I told him what you had done for me, and he was most impressed. He examined my sutures and said it was some of the neatest work he had seen. He thought my wound had healed remarkably well.”

Her lips parted, tentatively excited. A discussion with a fellow healer was a tempting prospect, and the idea of securing her father’s legacy stirred something deep and quiet within her. That this Dr. Hawley had not dismissed her skills outright was a promising sign.

“Why did you do this?”

Julius stepped forward, closing the small distance between them. He returned the journal to its place on her table, then shifted to gaze down at her. Reaching out, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that robbed her of breath.

“It is my apology,” he murmured.

His nearness made her dizzy. She had yearned to see him all day, and now here he was in her bedchamber, with no one to interrupt. If she moved just slightly, she could put her arms around him, rest her cheek against his chest, and listen to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat. But it felt ill-advised to appear needy, even if her heart cried out for that very thing.

Instead, she drew a thready breath. “What are you apologizing for?”

“For being a complete dolt.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. And what she saw there astonished her. Julius was gazing at her with such affection, such sincerity, that she could not help the dangerous swell of hope that bloomed in her chest.

“And why do you think you have been a … dolt?” she asked, voice uneven.

“This morning, I proposed to the most ravishing woman in London … and had the temerity to suggest that I might, in future, be tempted by any of the mere mortals treading the earth when I am to marry a veritable goddess.”

Tears threatened, her heart no longer able to contain itself.

“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.

“You are not,” Julius said, his voice firm and clear. “I deeply regret my proposal this morning. It has bothered me every second since. After speaking with Ridley and my parents, I concluded I was fighting my very destiny.”

“Why?” Audrey asked, aware the question was inelegant, yet utterly enthralled by the implication they were fated to be together. “Why were you fighting destiny?”

“I suppose …” Julius exhaled. “I was enjoying our time together, and I feared what would happen if I committed to something more. I did not wish to be trapped in a terse marriage. My parents have been unhappy for many years, so I thought it inevitable that we, too, would grow apart.”

He took her hand and raised it, pressing a brief kiss to her knuckles. “But then I remembered what you said, that I am my own man. I am not my father, and you are not my mother. We can forge our own path. Together. Which is why I would like the opportunity to restate my esteem.”

Audrey swallowed. “Esteem?”

“It would be my great privilege to wed you, Audrey Gideon. Not because of scandal, or because it is the honorable thing to do, but because I want to. I do not wish to offer you a name so I may chase other women. I wish to offer you my name because no one else shall ever carry it. You are the truest soul I have ever met, and I wish to wake by your side for the rest of my days.”

He reached up, tucking another errant lock of hair behind her other ear.

“Fixing your hair,” he added, “listening to you rant about the follies of ignorant medical professionals, and bussing that poor abused lip of yours better after you have nibbled it without mercy.”

She winced, realizing she had been doing exactly that as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“I … would like that very much,” she whispered.

It was a weak response, perhaps, but Audrey was too overcome to summon better words. Her dreams were coming true.

“We have much to consider,” Julius said. “I do not wish to live in Stirling all year round, but I thought perhaps your work with Dr. Hawley might occupy some of your time?”

Audrey grinned. “We can work something out that is mutually acceptable. So long as you are by my side.”

Julius smiled in return, lowering his head.

“Always, my love,” he promised, before their mouths came together.