Melusine ripped strips off her under-petticoats and fashioned a pad, which she bandaged as tightly as she could over the wound, working swiftly, unperturbed by the gore. “You are late,” she murmured. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. The lady grasped it more firmly and turned it upon Hilary. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. I think that WAS decision. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes.
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