"As you will, monsieur," replied Tracy carelessly, and walked away to his coach, his men following close on his heels.
My lord stood leaning heavily on his sword, watching them go, and not until the coach had swung out of sight did he give way to the weakness that was overwhelming him. Then he reeled and would have fallen, had it not been for two cool hands that caught his, steadying him.
A tremulous, husky voice sounded in his ears: "You are hurt! Ah, sir, you are hurt for my sake!"
With a great effort Jack controlled the inclination to swoon, and lifted the girl's hand shakily to his lips.
"It is a-pleasure-mademoiselle," he managed to gasp. "Now-you may-I think-proceed-in safety."
Diana slipped an arm under his shoulder and cast an anxious glance at the footman, hurrying towards them.
"Quick!" she commanded. "Sir, you are faint! You must allow my servant to assist you to the coach."
Jack forced a smile.
"It is-nothing-I assure you-pray do not-I-" and he fainted comfortably away into stout Thomas's arms.
"Carry him into the coach, Thomas!" ordered the girl. "Mind his arm, and-oh! his poor shoulder. Aunt, have you something to bind his wounds with?"
Miss Betty hurried forward.
"My darling child, what an escape! The dear, brave gentleman! Do have a care, Thomas! Yes, lay him on the seat."
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.
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.