"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.
Diana looked up as her aunt finished, and studied the pale face lying against the dark cushions. She noted the firm, beautifully curved mouth, the aristocratic nose and delicately pencilled eyebrows, with a little thrill. The duel had set her every nerve tingling; she was filled with admiration for her preserver, and the sight of his sensitive, handsome countenance did nothing to dispel that admiration.
She held the salts to his nostrils and watched eagerly for some sign of life. But none was forthcoming, and she had to be content with placing cushions beneath his injured shoulder, and guarding him as best she might from the jolts caused by the uneven surface of the road.
Miss Betty bustled about and did all she could to stanch the bleeding, and when they had comfortably settled my lord, she sat down upon the seat opposite and nodded decisively.
"We can do no more, my dear—but, yes—certainly bathe his forehead with your lavender water. Dear me, what an escape! I must say I would never have thought it of Mr. Everard! One would say we were living in the Stone Age! The wretch!"
Diana shuddered.
"I knew he was dreadful, but never how dreadful! How can he have found out when we were to leave Bath—and why did he waylay us so near home? Oh, I shall never be safe again!"
"Nonsense, my dear! Fiddlesticks! You saw how easily he was vanquished. Depend upon it, he will realise that he has made a bad mistake to try to abduct you, and we shall not be worried with him again."
With this comfortable assurance, she nodded again and leant back against the cushions, watching her niece's ministrations with a professional and slightly amused air.