“I didn’t know ladies as old as you could climb,” Arthur commented, looking impressed.

Hannah gave him a rueful grin. Minding her footing, she stood and reached for the drooping locks of the unfortunate toupee. To her disappointment, it was still too high. “Well, Arthur, the bad news is that I still can’t reach it. The good news is, you have a very effective catapult.”

The boy heaved a sigh. “I’m going to get a thrashing.”

“Not necessarily. I’ll think of some way to retrieve it. In the meantime”

“Arthur!” Another boy appeared at the ballroom entrance. “Everyone’s looking for you,” he said breathlessly. “Your tutor says you’re late for your lessons, and he’s getting crosser and crosser by the second!”

“Oh, thunderbolts,” Arthur muttered. “I have to go, miss. Can you get down from there?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” Hannah called down to him. “Go on, Arthur. Don’t be late for your lessons.”

“Thank you,” he cried, and hurried from the room. His companion’s voice floated in from the hallway. “Why is she up there…?”

Hannah inched toward the ladder slowly. Before she climbed back onto it, however, the middle extension collapsed, a loud clack-clack-clack echoing through the ballroom. Dumbfounded, Hannah stared at the A-frame stepladder, which was now far, far below her.

“Arthur?” she called, but there was no response.

It dawned on Hannah that she was in a fix.

How had her peaceful morning come to this, that she was stuck halfway up the side of the ballroom with no way to get down, and the manor mostly empty? In trying to save Mr. Bowman from embarrassment, she had brought no end of it on herself. Because whoever found her was certainly not going to be quiet about it, and the story would be repeated endlessly until she was the laughingstock of the entire holiday gathering.

Hannah heaved a sigh. “Hello?” she called hopefully. “Can anyone hear me?”

No response.

“Bollocks,” she said vehemently. It was the absolute worst word she knew.

Since it appeared she might be in for a long wait before someone came to rescue her, she considered lowering herself to sit on the ledge. But it was rather narrow. If she lost her balance, she was undoubtedly going to break something.

Bored and mortified and anxious, she waited, and waited, until she was certain that at least a quarter hour had passed. Every few minutes she called for help, but the manor was deadly silent.

Just as she felt the gnawing of acute self-pity and frustration, someone came to the doorway. She thought it was a servant at first. He was dressed with shocking informality in black trousers and his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. But as he entered the room with a relaxed saunter, she recognized the way he moved, and she closed her eyes sickly.

“It would be you,” she muttered.

She heard her name spoken in a quizzical tone, and opened her eyes to view Rafe Bowman standing below her. There was an odd expression on his face, a mixture of amusement and bafflement and something that looked like concern.

“Hannah, what the devil are you doing up there?”

She was too distressed to reprove him for using her first name. “I was fetching something,” she said shortly. “The ladder collapsed. What are you doing here?”

“I was recruited by the wallflowers to help decorate the tree. Since the footmen are all occupied, they had need of tall people who could climb ladders.” A deft pause. “You don’t seem to qualify on either account, sweetheart.”

“I climbed up perfectly well.” Hannah was red everywhere, from her hairline to her toes. “It’s merely coming down that poses a problem. And don’t call me ‘sweetheart,’ and…what do you mean, wallflowers?”

Bowman had gone to the ladder and had begun to ratchet up the middle extension. “A silly name my sisters and their friends call their little group. What were you fetching?”

“Nothing of importance.”

He grinned. “I’m afraid I can’t help you down until you tell me.”

Hannah longed to tell him to go away, she would prefer to wait for days before accepting his help. But she was getting tired of standing on the blasted ledge.

Seeing her indecision, Bowman said casually, “The others will be coming in here momentarily. And I should probably mention that I have an excellent view up your skirts.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Hannah tried to gather her dress more closely around her, and her balance wobbled.

Bowman cursed, his amusement vanishing. “Hannah, stop. I’m not looking. Be still, damn it. I’m coming up there to get you.”

“I can do it by myself. Just set the ladder close to me.”

“Like hell. I’m not going to risk you breaking your neck.” Having extended the ladder to full length, Bowman ascended it with astonishing swiftness.

“It might collapse again,” Hannah said nervously.

“No, it won’t. There’s an iron locking bracket on either side of the middle ladder. They probably weren’t snapped into place before you climbed up. You should always make certain both brackets are locked before using one of these things.”

“I don’t plan to climb anything ever again,” she said with vehement sincerity.

Bowman smiled. He was at the top of the ladder now, one hand extended. “Slowly, now. Take my hand and move carefully. You’re going to put your foot on that rung and turn and face the wall. I’ll help you.”