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Mr. Woodward nodded. “I shall begin my search now.” He started toward the door without another word and disappeared into the corridor.

Mr. Hawthorne took Grace by the arm and began leading her slowly toward the door. Betsey followed, her bright blue eyes round in obvious astonishment. She must have been counting all the virtues of Mr. Hawthorne, perhaps even swooning inwardly at his heroic actions.

“I told you—that is unnecessary.” Leah said, rushing to catch up to them in the corridor. “I shall take the matter from here.”

Mr. Hawthorne’s dark brows furrowed with skepticism…and a hint of impatience. “And if she faints?”

“I shall catch her.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You are risking your maid’s safety. I’m afraid I can’t leave her side until she is safely downstairs.”

Leah didn’t want to relent a second time, but he was right. If Grace fainted, she and Betsey would struggle to help her to her room alone. “Very well. But I shall still accompany you. I won’t leave Grace alone to the care of a man she doesn’t know or trust.”

Mr. Hawthorne scoffed under his breath. “I wouldn’t trust a woman’s guidance who wandered to the wrong bedchamber for a nap.”

Leah clenched her jaw as she searched for a reply. She reminded herself that Mr. Hawthorne was not worth her time and effort. Grace’s well-being was the only thing she needed to be worrying about, not proving a point to Mr. Hawthorne.

Leah’s hopes of impressing the gentlemen at the house party were fading. She could already imagine how the injury would impact Grace’s work. How could she button Leah’s gowns or lace her stays without use of those two fingers? How could she work her hair into the intricate arrangements they had practiced? When would Leah’s rotten luck change? Two unfortunate incidents had already occurred, and the house party hadn’t even officially begun.

Even more unsettling was Mr. Hawthorne’s eagerness to help.

What was he trying to prove?

Mrs. Wintle intercepted them at the top of the servants’ staircase, leading the way down the dim passage. After seeing Grace’s compact lodgings, Leah would never complain about the firmness of her bed again.

Grace seemed to feel at home immediately though, settling onto the bed where her small valise had been brought in, likely by Joseph.

It was the least he could have done after crushing her fingers.

Grace carefully unwrapped the cravat, revealing the swollen purple skin and blood-stained fabric. One fingernail was cracked down the middle.

Leah gave a quiet gasp. “You poor thing.”

“I’m right sorry.” Grace blinked fast, tears hovering on the edges of her eyes. “I won’t be a great deal of ‘elp in this condition.”

“Don’t give it another thought.” Leah touched her arm softly. “Betsey is here. And I’m certain her ladyship has other maids who might assist me.”

Mrs. Wintle nodded her agreement. “We shall arrange for someone else to see to you, Miss Sterling. Not to worry.” She paced toward the stairs, passing Mr. Hawthorne. “I shall await the doctor upstairs.”

Leah had nearly forgotten that Mr. Hawthorne was still standing behind her.

The unpleasant realization brought with it a strong awareness of his gaze on the side of her face. “That will be all, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Are you dismissing me?” In the dim light, his eyes flashed with amusement.

“Your help is no longer needed, though I do thank you for it.” She had to try to be at least a little polite.

He gave a slow nod.

Why on earth was he still lingering?

It seemed as if there was more he wished to say, but he finally took a step back. “Very well. I’ll ensure the doctor is sent to the right place.”

“Good. Thank you.” Leah nodded, her features firm as Mr. Hawthorne turned and made his way out of the room.

Her shoulders relaxed the moment he was gone.

Her gaze fell on his blood-stained cravat again, crumpled in Grace’s other hand. What gentlemen neglected to carry a handkerchief? To sacrifice an article of his own clothing had been generous, indeed. Perhaps he had simply been acting out of kindness.