I gingerly touched his sleeve to try to see the wound through the torn cloth, and he said, “There are scissors in the kit. Just cut off the sleeve. The shirt’s ruined anyway.” In giving instructions, his voice lost its customary vague quality.

I snipped around the sleeve, trying not to look at the blood. But then that meant I found myself staring resolutely at the skin my scissors revealed. The sight of his flesh was almost as unsettling as all the blood, though in a different way. I wasn’t sure where to look. I turned my attention to his wrist, where I removed the cuff link so I could pull the damaged sleeve off his arm. The cloth had already stuck to the drying blood, so I had to touch him to remove it. The way he flinched at my touch made me wonder if he was as aware of the strange intimacy of our situation as I was.

My stomach heaved when I saw the wound. It was a bloody groove across his upper arm. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking at me with deep concern.

“You need to see a physician,” I said. “I can’t do anything for this.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks. You just need to clean the wound. I’ll direct you.” There was an unexpected pleading tone to his voice, and he looked very young and nearly as afraid as I felt. When I hesitated, he added, “Please, Miss Newton.”

I took a couple of deep breaths to steel myself, then followed his instructions. When he winced or gasped in pain, I pulled back, but he urged me on. Finally, I had the wound bandaged.

He inspected my work and said, “Well done. You make an excellent nurse.”

“I hope so,” I said, frowning at him in worry. He still looked awful, all pale and sweaty. Without thinking, because I’d done this sort of thing so often for my mother during her illness, I took the handkerchief from my pocket and blotted the sweat from his face. He closed his eyes and gave a little sigh, and then I realized what I was doing and withdrew my hand. I’d used Alec’s handkerchief, which I’d brought to the party with the intention of returning to him but had entirely forgotten in all the excitement, and it seemed a betrayal of him to use it to tend to a magister. I shoved it back into my pocket.

“Might I ask you one more favor tonight?” Lord Henry said.

I was afraid of what else he might want me to do, but I still said, “Of course.”

“I could use a cup of cocoa. If no one’s in the kitchen, ring the bell to summon a maid. Get enough for two and bring it back here.”