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Grace sniffed quietly before peeking inside the folds of the cravat. “I’ll lose my fingernail at least. Bone might be broken. But the bleeding seems to ‘ave slowed.”

Blast Tom’s valet. If Leah remembered correctly, Joseph was his name.

“I owe much thanks to Mr. Woodward and Mr. Hawthorne for ‘elping me,” Grace continued, lifting her gaze to the two men.

Leah turned, her heart in her throat. There was a certain obligation to thank Grace’s rescuers, though it pained her slightly to do so. Mr. Hawthorne stood closest. His lips were stern, his chocolate brown eyes fixed on Leah as she faced him.

Her skin prickled with discomfort. He was far too handsome for his own good. She hated to recognize that fact, but it was surely part of the reason he thought himself above her and everyone else.

Or so she had assumed.

Sacrificing his cravat for a maid’s fingers had certainly confused her.

“I thank you for assisting my maid, Mr. Hawthorne.” The words barely escaped Leah’s throat before she turned to Mr. Woodward. His expression was much more pleasant and friendly. “I thank you most deeply as well, Mr. Woodward.”

“You are quite welcome.” His eyes were soft and inviting behind his spectacles. “I trust you slept well?”

“Indeed, and you?”

“Quite well, yes.”

She searched for something more to say. “You were missed in the drawing room after dinner.”

“Was I?” He chuckled. “I thought I had bored you with my talk of teeth extractions.”

She shook her head. “I could never be bored by such a thrilling subject.”

He grinned, and Leah returned his smile.

Mr. Hawthorne cleared his throat. “The doctor has been called. He should be arriving shortly to evaluate her condition.”

Leah turned with a frown. “Does her ladyship know of the incident?”

Mr. Hawthorne shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of, though surely she will hear of it soon.”

Leah allowed herself to feel relieved. She didn’t want to draw more attention than was necessary. If she could have Grace treated below stairs, less of the new guests arriving that day would be troubled by the ordeal.

Leah exchanged a glance with Grace. She had made a habit of confiding far too much in her maid. She had told her every detail of the operation Leah and Katherine had called Switzerland. Grace understood how important it was that Leah succeed and not draw unwanted attention to herself.

“I’ll await the doctor below stairs,” Grace said in a quiet voice. “Betsey can accompany me.”

The other maid nodded her agreement.

Grace stood abruptly, the color draining from her face. Her eyes rolled back as they closed. Just as she lost her balance, Mr. Hawthorne lunged forward at the same moment Leah did to steady her. They each caught one of her arms.

Grace’s eyes shot open, and she took a deep breath. “Oh, fiddle. Did I faint?”

Against her will, Leah met Mr. Hawthorne’s gaze again. Her dislike of the man was still overshadowing his kindness toward Grace. She wished he would simply leave the room. Mr. Woodward seemed perfectly capable of helping instead, although perhaps not quite as strong. She eyed his long, lanky arms.

He lingered back a few paces, watching with a look of concern.

“I’ll escort Grace and Betsey downstairs,” Mr. Hawthorne said. “I’ll ensure no harm comes upon her on the way.”

The sincerity in his eyes was jarring.

Leah shook her head, if only to clear the image from her mind. “That is all right. You have done quite enough.” She eyed the cravat around Grace’s fingers again with a wave of embarrassment. “I shall accompany her myself, and I shall ensure your cravat is replaced with a new one as swiftly as possible.”

Mr. Hawthorne didn’t listen. His firm jaw, exposed by his lack of cravat, tightened further. He turned to Mr. Woodward. “Please send the doctor downstairs when he arrives. Find Mrs. Wintle and send her down as well.”