My Lady Lowestoft stole up to the door of Prudence’s chamber, threw a swift glance round to see that no one was by, and went in, firmly shutting the door behind her. Prudence sat before her dressing table, haresfoot in hand. She looked round to see who came in so unceremoniously. “Fie!” she said, and turned back to the mirror.
“My reputation if any one saw me!” said my lady, and sat down in a swirl of purple silk. She carried a strip of velvet in one hand, and a purple domino hung from her shoulders. She put up the velvet to her face. “So! Am not I intrigante, my dear?”
“Very, ma’am. You always are, masked or not.”
“So they say,” nodded my lady. “Oh, la-la! we’re very fine tonight, not?”
Prudence smoothed the crimson silk sleeve of her coat, and smiled a little. “ My pièce de résistance, ma’am.”
“Oh, you look very well. That goes without saying. But what a wardrobe! The bon papa finds himself in affluent circumstances now?”
“Up and down, my lady. There seemed to be money enough when I saw him last.” Prudence pressed a patch on to her cheek with expert fingers. “Are you for setting forward? I’ll go see if Robin’s dressed.” She picked up the crimson domino from the bed, and her mask and hat with it, and went out.
Robin’s voice desired to know who it was that scratched on the door. Prudence answered, and heard him say: “Oh, enter, my dear.”
She went in humming a snatch of song. It died on her lips at what she saw, and she shut the door rather quickly. In place of the lady she expected to find there stood in the middle of the room a slim, lithe young figure in satin small clothes, and a cambric shirt. The fair hair was powdered thickly, and tied back with a black riband in the neck; the white throat was hidden by a lace neck-cloth which fell under the chin in deep ruffles down the shirt front. If Robin made a pretty girl, he was beyond doubt a very handsome young man.
“Robin, are you mad?” said Prudence quietly.