“Wait, Miss!” Leopold was off the bed in a second and grabbing for his shirt. Starved for company and conversation, he ignored the protesting stitches as he went after Annie. This was a stroke of good luck that he would never have expected. Shrugging on the shirt in a conciliatory nod to propriety, he held out a hand toward her.

“Are you lost? May I be of assistance?” Never mind that that assistance might involve walking distances of more than a couple feet or climbing stairs, neither of which he is really able to do. But courtesy is most important in Leopold’s mind, and the young woman is after all holding a rather appetizing cup of tea and biscuits. Perhaps she could be persuaded to tell him how to procure some of the same.