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the Royal Society’s expedition, there was a very clear hierarchy she knew would need to be maintained. But even she, who lived at the edge of nowhere, had heard and read of the famous anatomist Jackson Denman. His lectures at the Royal College of Surgeons in London were famed in scientific circles, and praised as packed affairs with young students cramming into the operating theater to hear and see his work. “Have you known him long?”
    “No. We’ve only just met a few days past. It chanced that we were staying at the same inn in advance of coming aboard this morning.”
    “And what brings such an august anatomy scholar as yourself on this expedition?”
    “Ah. I see my fame—or infamy—depending upon your point of view—”
    “Fame, surely, Mr. Denman.”
    “You are too kind. Suffice it to say that I found myself in need of a change—in want of a surfeit of life as an antidote to the close study of death. This expedition to sunnier climes seemed a very good opportunity.”
    His words gave Jane pause. She had been so preoccupied with her own perceived impediments to her career, that she had never considered that even without impediments of gender and lack of opportunity, scientific inquiry came at a mortal cost of its own.
    “I see,” she finally said, only because she knew she must say something, and she wanted to allay whatever demons had driven Mr. Denman to this point. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”
    “I mean to make a physiological study of the natives we encounter. Drawings and the like. And I must say that I have seen your new monograph, The Conchology of Britain, and was impressed by your most exceptional specimen drawings. I’d be interested in speaking with you about your techniques for drawing in the field. I’m always looking for instruction or information to improve my own techniques.”
    Everything within Jane eased and lifted. This—this lovely feeling of quiet elation—was exactly why she had dared to come aboard, and exactly what she had hoped for. The regard and acknowledgment of her colleagues was everything she wanted—that an accomplished, even famous man such as Mr. Denman should compliment her for her work.
    She did not have to force the smile to her lips. “Certainly, Mr. Denman. I should like nothing more. I take it you make specimen drawings as well?”
    He smiled, though he looked slightly less comfortable again. “Yes, I do. Well. I’ll leave you to settle in then.”
    “Oh, yes.” Jane recalled herself to her manners. “And thank you again”—she extended her hand once more to Mr. Denman—“for your kind interference on my behalf.”
    He shook her hand cordially. “You are welcome. I am only sorry that any interference might have been necessary. But I fear we men are a hidebound lot.”
    Jane could only agree, but it was refreshing to hear a gentleman like Mr. Denman voice such an opinion. “You don’t seem particularly hidebound, Mr. Denman. You spoke up for me when others would not.” To be fair, the lieutenant had not spoken against her. But he certainly had not been entirely supportive.
    “Yes. I should like to think I’m a fair-minded man who can weigh the evidence with his own eyes, and not rely upon others to tell me what to think.”
    Jane could feel a genuine smile cross her lips. “How very scientific of you.”
    His sober look lightened as she had hoped it would. “Yes, I am nothing if not a man of science. Sometimes I fear to the exclusion of all else. Which is one of the reasons I joined this expedition. To take myself out into the world again.”
    “Yes. I too.” Although she was really going out into the world for the first time. At least the first time entirely on her own. It was both a heady and a terrifying thought. “Sometimes we must stretch ourselves to learn new things, lest we stagnate from staying put without fresh ideas or fresh experiences to prod us along.”
    “Very well said, Miss Burke. Stagnate. I think you have