My lord was lowered gently on to the cushions, and Miss Betty fluttered over to him like a distracted hen. Then Diana told Thomas to take charge of my lord’s horse that they could see, quietly nibbling the grass further down the road, stooped and picked up his Grace of Andover’s sword, with its curiously wrought hilt, and jumped into the coach to help Miss Betty to attend to Jack’s wounds.

The slash on the arm was not serious, but where the pistol had taken him was very ugly-looking. While she saw to that, Miss Betty loosened the cravat and removed my lord’s mask.

“Di, see what a handsome boy ’tis! The poor, brave gentleman! What a lucky thing he came up! If only this bleeding would stop!” So she ran on, hunting wildly for her salts.