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All she could do was nod again, her gaze following his broad shoulders as he returned to his seat by the fire.

He looked far too calm, as if a weight had been lifted from him—as if he could now enjoy the rest of the house party without any thought of her. He seemed to consider their business settled, yet he had made no move to apologize for the pain he had caused her in the past.

Did he not think he was at fault?

Not at all?

Leah’s mood soured gradually throughout the rest of the evening, not even lightened by Lady Cartright’s veiled attempts at flirting with Mr. Hawthorne, or her own hopes for seeing Mr. Woodward again.

All she could think of was the look of relief in Mr. Hawthorne’s eyes.

She did not like it. Not one bit.

Four

Leah awoke with an aching back. She sat up on the hard mattress with a groan.

The yellow bed had been much more comfortable.

A knock sounded on her door, and it was Katherine on the other side. She let herself inside, her tall, narrow figure slipping through the half-opened door. Katherine seemed to have tended to her own appearance already, the fine, straight strands of her light brown hair twisted and pinned into an arrangement at the crown of her head.

“There you are,” Katherine said with a sigh, leaving the door open behind her. Her cheeks were flushed, a hint of panic in her eyes. “Grace and Betsey have just arrived with Tom’s valet. Their delay was caused by a lame horse, but on their way out of the carriage…Grace was injured.”

Leah gasped. “How? What happened?”

Katherine’s forehead creased. “Tom’s valet closed the carriage door on her fingers.”

Leah’s brows shot up. “Poor Grace! Where is she?”

“The drawing room.”

“Will you help me dress?”

Katherine complied, helping Leah fasten her white morning dress while Leah worked on her hair.

“Are you certain you want to see?” Katherine asked in a hushed voice. “It’s quite gruesome. Betsey and two men are tending to her already as they await the doctor.”

Leah nodded, her stomach twisting with dread. “I must see her. I can tolerate gruesome matters extraordinarily well. Mr. Woodward told me all about his brother’s tooth last night, and I was unaffected.”

Katherine’s features crumpled with dismay. “What about his tooth?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“I would rather you not.” Katherine’s voice faded as Leah slipped out the door and hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping on the hem of her skirts.

She stopped in the doorway of the drawing room, taking in the scene in front of her. Grace sat on the settee, a bundle of white fabric wrapped around the fingers of her right hand. Her cheeks were ruddy and splotched, her golden curls sticking straight out the sides of her cap. Katherine’s maid, Betsey, sat beside her.

Leah froze as her gaze flickered to the two men.

Mr. Hawthorne was there, and he was missing his cravat.

The other man was Mr. Woodward.

As she stood frozen in the doorway, both men glanced in her direction.

Mr. Hawthorne’s dark eyes met hers, and Leah blinked twice before realizing that his missing cravat was, at present, wrapped around Grace’s fingers.

Leah rushed forward. “Oh, Grace. I am so very sorry. How bad is it?”