He had an objective now. . ’ ‘Well, I do now,’ Lucilla said firmly, and turned back to Melusine. The militia offered little in the way of relief. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. And if he would, I would not subject him to the annoyance. Oh, and only look at those stains,’ cried Miss Froxfield, gesturing at the blood on the ruffles to the sleeves of Melusine’s riding-habit, and on the chemise she wore under it.
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