She relented and gave him a smile. “I know. But these are extreme times, and we cannot stand on protocol. I will be safe enough here.”

Juliette entered the kitchen of the inn and reconsidered ever staying at a coaching inn again. Dirty dishes, dust, mud tracked through the back door … disgusting. Frannie pushed the swee over the small fire in the fireplace and hung the kettle from the iron rod. Her hands were streaked with soot from even that small task.

“It’s a shambles, milady. I don’t know where to start.”

At least in here Juliette didn’t have to face any blood. But she had less of an idea where to start than her maid. The fire smoked as the chimney failed to draw properly.

“Hot water and bandages. I’ve sent Paul for fresh water and to scare up some fuel for the fire. Where can we obtain material for bandages?”

“Bedsheets would be simplest, though I don’t know that you could find a clean one within these walls.”

“See if you can find a linen press. I’ll keep the fire going and try to clear some space to work.”

Daniel’s long cloak hampered her movements, but she was loath to lay it aside. The kitchen had not one clean square inch on which to set anything, and the cloak did warm her. She located a large tub beside the back door and dragged it inside to fill with dirty dishes and cookware.

The noise she made stacking crockery masked other sounds, and only at the last moment did she sense she was not alone.

“What a tasty morsel to find in the kitchen.” Before she could turn, a man’s hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream. Filthy hair scrubbed the side of her face as he pressed his beard against her skin.

Shock and fear gave way to anger and training. Blessing Uncle Bertie for his instruction, she rammed her elbow backward into the man’s doughy middle. As the air left his lungs, she stomped as hard as she could on his foot, using the small wooden heel of her shoe to inflict the most pain. His grip loosened, and she whirled in his grasp to thrust the heel of her hand sharply up against the base of his nose. When he staggered back, she hiked her skirt and kicked him … in that place Uncle Bertie had guaranteed would take the fight out of any man. She made good contact, and the man howled, his nose gushing blood.

The edges of the room closed around her in blackness, and she fought against it, backing toward the door to the rear courtyard.

Don’t faint … don’t faint … don’t …

Her assailant stumbled backward toward the taproom door, colliding with another man. Juliette braced herself to run but then recognized the doctor.