“Or you forgive me for letting harm come to him, mistress?” John backed his horse into the shafts. “His lordship will have it he’s the world’s greatest swordsman, but to my mind Master Robin’s his master. Ay, ’twas a good fight.”
“How came the end?”
“He made a time-thrust, Miss Prue. It would have done his lordship’s heart good to have seen it. Dangerous work, but there was never a head like Master Robin’s in a fight.”
Robin came out presently from his sylvan dressing-room. “I doubt I look a hag,” he remarked, stowing a bundle of clothes away under the seat of the chaise. “No mirror, nor any lights. How is it, my Prue?”
She inspected him critically, and rearranged the loose curls as best she might. “It will serve. Do we come up with your lady?”
Robin frowned. “There’s a risk, of course, but I don’t care to leave her to travel with Markham’s body. I suppose they will take him up.” He glanced at her. “I had rather keep you out of this, child.”
“Fiddle!” said Prudence. “We’ve been to visit friends. Who’s to suspect? We must escort Miss Letty home. Lord, what a mad piece it is!”
Robin slipped the gold ring from his finger and tossed it to Prudence. “Pocket that: she’s not to know. Egad, if this comes to your mountain’s ears I’m like to be sped.”
“I’ll protect you,” promised his sister. “I daresay he might guess the truth.”
Robin watched John climb on to the box and gather up the reins. “It’s a most suspicious mind, alack. Well, en avant!” He jumped up into the coach, and Prudence swung herself into the saddle again.