Masqueraders by Georgette Heyer

shoulder, no more.’ She swayed, but mastered the threatened faintness, and bent to pick up her cloak. Her hand shook slightly as she wiped her sword in its folds, but she managed to smile. ‘I have—to thank you—for your prompt assistance,’ she said, trying to get her breath. ‘I rather thought I was sped.’
    ‘Ay, three to one, blister them,’ nodded Mr Belfort. ‘But white-livered curs, ’pon my soul. Not an ounce of fight in ’em. Here, take my arm.’
    Prudence leaned gratefully on it. ‘Just a momentary breathlessness,’ she said. ‘I am well enough now.’
    ‘Gad, it must have been a nasty blow!’ said Mr Belfort. ‘You are shaken to bits, man. Come home with me; my lodging is nearer than yours.’
    ‘No, no, I thank you!’ Prudence said earnestly. ‘The blow—struck an old wound. I hardly heed it now.’
    ‘Tare an’ ’ouns, but that’s bad!’ cried Mr Belfort. ‘Really, my dear fellow, you must come to my place and let me look to it.’
    ‘On my honour, sir, it’s less than naught. You may see for yourself I am quite recovered now. I shall not trespass on your hospitality at this hour of night.’
    He protested that the night was young yet, but not to all his entreaties would Prudence yield. They walked on together towards Charing Cross, the Honourable Charles still adjuring Prudence at intervals to go home with him. ‘By gad, sir, these Mohocks become a positive scandal!’ he exclaimed. ‘A gentleman mayn’t walk abroad, damme, without being set upon these days!’
    ‘Mohocks?’ Prudence said. ‘You think they were Mohocks, then?’
    ‘Why, what else? The town’s teeming with ’em. I was set on myself t’other day. Stretched one fellow flat!’
    Prudence thought of the words she had caught as she had come up to the embrasure. A rough voice had growled: ‘This is our man, boys.’ She said nothing of this, however, to Mr Belfort, but assented that without doubt the men had been Mohocks, intent on robbery.
    ‘A good thing ’twas I left Devereux’s rooms directly after you,’ said Mr Belfort. ‘But that Burgundy, y’know—demned poor stuff, my boy! There was no staying longer. How a man can get drunk on it beats me. Look at me now! Sober as a judge, Peter! Yet there’s poor Devereux almost under the table already.’
    They parted company at Charing Cross, where Mr Belfort saw Prudence solicitously into a chair. She was borne off west to Arlington Street, and set down safely outside my lady’s house.
    A light burned still in Robin’s room. Sure, the child would never go to bed until she was come home. She went softly in, and found Robin reading by the light of three candles.
    Robin looked up. ‘My felicitations. You escaped betimes.’ His eyes narrowed, and he got up. ‘Oh? What’s toward, child?’ he said sharply, and came across to Prudence’s side.
    She laughed. ‘What, do I look a corpse? I was near enough to it. But there are no bones broken, I believe.’
    The beautifully curved lips straightened to a thin line; Prudence saw her brother’s eyes keen and anxious. ‘Be a little plain with me, child. You’ve sustained some hurt?’
    ‘No more than a bruise, I think, but oh, Robin, it hurt!’ Again she laughed, but there was a quiver in her voice. ‘Help me to come out of this coat; ’tis on my left shoulder.’
    The shoulder was swiftly bared and an ugly bruise disclosed. There came a soft curse from Robin. ‘Who did it?’
    ‘Now, how should I know? Charles spoke of the Mohocks.’
    Robin was searching on his dressing table for ointment, and came back to her with the pot in his hand. As he smeared the stuff lightly over the bruise, he said remorsefully: ‘’Tis I who was at fault. I should have seen to it you had my lady’s chaise out.’
    ‘Oh, no harm done, as it chances. But there were three of them and I was all but sped. Then Charles came running up, and there was an end of it.’ She slipped her shirt up again over her shoulder.