“What are you doing in here, Boggs?” The physician scowled, looking from the nosebleed to Juliette’s disheveled appearance.

She gulped and tried to smooth her hair and her nerves.

Swiftly assessing the situation, the doctor shoved Boggs into the taproom. “Get out of here before I box your ears. Which wouldn’t be difficult, seeing as a mere slip of a girl has already half finished the endeavor.”

When Boggs had gone, the doctor took a couple of steps toward Juliette but then stopped. “Are you injured, miss? Did he harm you?”

Juliette swayed, gripping the table edge. “Sir, your hands.”

The man’s hands were red with blood. He glanced at them, and with a shrug wiped them on his apron. Juliette closed her eyes against the tide of dizziness. She raged at her weakness even as she fought it.

“If you are unharmed, I will return to my patients, but perhaps you should sit down. Not everyone is equipped to fight rascals and stitch wounds in the same day.”

Frannie edged past the doctor, folded cloth clutched to her chest. On her heels came the tiger, a bucket of water sloshing against his leg in his haste.

“Just what we need. You, look after the lady here, and you, boy, bring that water into the taproom.”

By the time Juliette’s head cleared, Frannie had set to work with a will, making tea, clearing clutter, and creating a clean space on the table. Juliette gained a new appreciation for the work the servants in her parents’ houses had to do.

“Milady, these were in a cupboard upstairs. Will they do?” Frannie held up a pair of wrinkled linen sheets, yellowed with age. “They’re dusty, but they’re all I could find.”

“Give them a good shake outside and see about cutting them into bandages. Well done finding that much in this disaster.”

When the girl ducked out into the stable yard, Juliette took a moment to lift her skirt and remove the pistol from the holster strapped to her thigh, mentally thanking Uncle Bertie for insisting she always be armed. She slipped the gun into her dress pocket, feeling the unaccustomed drag of its weight. She might need it should Boggs or another like him return.

She sorted out a knife from an assortment in a box on a shelf, giving it a practiced flip. It landed with a quiver, the point sunk into the top of the scarred and battered table. That should do for tearing sheets into bandages.

“Lady Juliette?” Duke Heinrich’s shocked pale-blue eyes stared at the knife, still vibrating in the scarred tabletop. “This is no place for you. I am taking you and Miss Montgomery to your townhouse. I have procured the coach belonging to this … inn.” He swallowed, grimacing at the chaos and filth. “I really must insist. It is not safe for you here.”