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  ‘No, sir, but that don’t make it any better.’

  ‘It doesn’t, of course, and I was rather annoyed at the time. Oh, devil take you, Jim, don’t look at me like that! I’m not dead yet!’

  ‘If – if you had been killed, sir – ’twould have been my fault.’

  ‘Rubbish! I’d a sword, hadn’t I? For heaven’s sake don’t worry about it any more! Have you brought all my baggage?’

  ‘Yes, sir. It shan’t occur again, sir.’

  ‘Certainly not. Jenny is well?’

  ‘Splendid, sir. Will you trust me with your pistols, sir?’

  Carstares groaned.

  ‘Will you have done? ’Twas an accident, and I have forgotten it. Here’s my hand on it!’ He grasped Jim’s as he spoke, and seemed to brush the whole subject aside.

  ‘Have you disposed of that horrible coat you tried to make me wear the other day?’

  ‘I gave it to the landlord, sir.’

  ‘I should have burned it, but perhaps he liked it.’

  ‘He did, sir. Will you try to go to sleep now?’

  ‘If you had a shoulder on fire and aching as mine does, you wouldn’t ask such a ridiculous question,’ answered Jack snappishly.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. Is there aught I can do?’

  ‘You can change the bandages, if you like. These are prodigious hot and uncomfortable.’

  Without another word Salter set about easing his master, and he was so painstaking and so careful not to hurt the ugly wound, and his face expressed so much concern, that Carstares controlled a desire to swear when he happened to touch a particularly tender spot, and at the end rewarded him with a smile and a sigh of content.

  ‘That is much better,’ he said. ‘You have such a light touch, Jim.’

  The man’s face reddened with pleasure, but he said nothing, and walked away to the window to draw the curtains.

  Thirteen

  My Lord Makes His Bow

  After Jim’s arrival my lord recovered quickly, each day making great progress, much to the doctor’s satisfaction, who never tired of telling Mr Beauleigh and Miss Betty that it was entirely owing to his treatment that the patient had recovered at all. As his idea of treatment mainly consisted of copiously bleeding John, which process Miss Betty very soon put an end to, he and she had many arguments on the subject, in which he was completely routed. She held that Mr Carr was well on the strength of her nursing and his own constitution – and very probably she was right. In any case, hardly a fortnight after O’Hara’s first visit, my lord was standing before his mirror, surveying himself, with his head speculatively on one side and a worried look in his eyes. Salter watched him anxiously, knowing this to be a critical moment. His master was somewhat of an enigma to him; the important things in life never appeared to affect him, but over a question of two cravats as opposed to each other, or some equally trivial matter, he would become quite harassed.

  After contemplating his appearance for several moments, Carstares frowned and looked over his shoulder.

  ‘I have changed my mind, Jim. I will wear blue after all.’

  Salter sighed despairingly.

  ‘Ye look very well in what ye have on, sir,’ he grunted.

  Jack sat down obstinately.

  ‘I have conceived a dislike – nay, a veritable hatred – for puce. I will wear blue.’

  ‘Now, sir, do ha’ done changing your clothes! Ye’ll be tired out before ever ye get downstairs, and ye know what the doctor said.’

  My lord consigned the doctor and his words of wisdom to a place of great heat.

  ‘Ay, sir, but –’

  ‘The doctor is a worthy individual, Jim, but he knows even less of the art of dressing than you do. He does not understand the soul-agony of a man who makes his first appearance in puce.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘The blue coat laced with gold.’

  ‘Sir –’

  ‘I order it! I insist; the blue coat or nought!’

  ‘Very, well sir.’ Resignedly Jim walked to the cupboard.

  When at length his lordship was dressed to his entire satisfaction it was midway through the hot June afternoon, and Miss Betty was tapping at the door, wishing to know whether Mr Carr was coming down, or whether he was not.

  Carstares shifted his sling, and taking up his hat, moved just a little shakily to the door.

  Salter opened it, and cast a triumphant glance at Miss Betty, as though he was showing off all my lord’s graces. He proffered an arm.

  ‘Shall I help ye, sir?’

  Miss Betty curtsied low.

  ‘La, Mr Carr!’

  John bowed profoundly.

  ‘Give ye good ken, madam,’ he said. ‘I am just about to descend. Thank you, Jim.’ He leaned heavily on the man’s arm.

  Miss Betty walked round him admiringly.

  ‘Lud! ’Tis mighty elegant, I vow! But I protest, I am shy!’

  ‘Egad, Miss Betty! and why?’

  ‘You are not so young as I imagined,’ she replied candidly.

  ‘Bear in mind, madam, that I never sought to deceive you. I am an aged man.’

  ‘Thirty!’ she scoffed, and went on ahead. ‘Come, child, and mind the first step!’

  At the bottom of the staircase stood Mr Beauleigh, a man of medium height, thin-lipped and grey-eyed. He came forward with one hand outstretched.

  ‘I am delighted to see you so much better, sir. I trust your shoulder no longer pains you?’

  My lord pushed Jim gently to one side and placed his hand in Mr Beauleigh’s.

  ‘I thank you, sir, it is almost well. But for Miss Betty, who, I fear, has the makings of a true tyrant, I should not wear this obnoxious sling.’

  Mr Beauleigh smiled a little.

  ‘Ah, yes, she keeps us all in order, does Betty. Pray, will you not walk a little in the garden? There are chairs on the lawn – and here is my daughter.’

  He waved to the door, and Carstares, turning, beheld Diana.

  She stood framed by the dark wood, gowned in amber silk, with old lace falling from her elbows and over the bosom of her dress. Her hair was dark as night, with little tendrils curling over her broad, white brow. One rolling curl fell over her shoulder, the rest were gathered up under a small lace cap, which was secured by means of a riband passed beneath her chin.

  Jack gazed, and gazed again, and in her turn Diana studied him with wide brown eyes of almost childlike innocence. Then her lids fluttered and curling lashes veiled the glorious depths, as a slow blush mounted to her cheeks.

  My lord recovered his manners and made his most approved leg as her father presented him.

  ‘My love, this is Mr Carr –’

  Diana sank into a curtsey.

  ‘– and, Mr Carr, this is my daughter, Diana.’

  ‘I am delighted to make Miss Beauleigh’s acquaintance,’ said John, and raised her hand to his lips.

  The delicate tapering fingers trembled a little in his hold, and tremulous lips parted in the shyest and most adorable smile that he had ever seen.

  ‘Indeed, sir, we are already acquainted. I am not like to forget my rescuer.’

  ‘I am happy to think that I was able to be of some service to you, mademoiselle. Believe me, it was an honour to fight in your cause.’ His eyes were on the fascinating dimple that played about her mouth.

  ‘’Tis very kind of you to say so, sir. I fear we greatly incommoded you – and –’ She made a gesture towards his sling.

  ‘That, mademoiselle, is less than nothing. All the obligation is on my side.’

  Miss Betty bustled forward.

  ‘Now that will do! I never heard such a foolish set of compliments! You are looking tired, Mr Carr; come into the garden and rest.’

  Salter stepped forward, but Diana stayed him with upli