Manon roused from her stupor as they pulled up at Hans Crescent. For a moment her senses were disordered. She understood nothing except that her arm hurt like the very blazes and she felt confoundedly dizzy. It was a relief to leave her spinning head tucked into the folds of Justin's cloak. But at the moment the chair reached the house and she heard the chairman's gruff voice, reason returned in an unpleasant rush, and remembering her circumstance, Manon made a hasty effort to right herself.

"Hold still," she was commanded in a calm voice. "You'll start the bleeding again. I think we've spilled enough gore for one evening, little man."

"Nay. 'Tis naught. I--"

But Justin wasn't listening. He freed himself from her reluctant clutches, climbed down, paid off the chairman, and then turned to lift her from the chair as if she was but a small child.

"I suppose it is as well that you haven't been indulging in sport and growing muscular. I've already had to carry you the length of London."

Half mortified, half terrified, she was carried up the shallow steps to the front door.

"I am able to walk," she insisted again.

"Quiet." Justin kicked at the door until a surprised and sleepy Gibbons appeared.

"Fetch bandages and hot water," Justin ordered quietly. "Bring them to my room. And, Gibbons, there is no reason to rouse the house about this. I shall attend to this matter myself."

Now truly appalled, Manon began to struggle. But like her voice, her body lacked its usual strength and all she could do was strain ineffectually.

"Stop wiggling, you wretched boy, or I shall drop you."

Justin's bedchamber was seen in the firelight to be larger than her own and done in crimson lightened with gold which kept it from being entirely oppressive. It was also the most thoroughly masculine room she had ever been in. Justin's presence was everywhere stamped upon it and it made her at once feel reassured and uneasy.

Justin sat her on the side of his bed, and once certain that she would not topple over in a faint, went to a large chest to fetch a pair of scissors. He returned to her side and for the first time since her swoon, Manon raised her eyes to his face.

The wordless look he gave her was a curiously searching one.

"I'm going to cut the sleeve at the cuff," he said finally. "I don't want to risk doing further harm by trying to extricate you from that coat until we see what damage has been wrought."

Manon felt a wave of relief pass over her. He was only to cut her sleeve then there would be no danger of him discovering her ruse.   With a nod of assent, Manon made to hold out her arm. The muscled trilled an alarm causing her to exhale sharply.

"Stay still," he said again. "Do not flex the muscle until we know how deep the blade has gone. You've quite enough gore upon your person already. There is no need to decorate my sheets."

He knelt down beside her and put the blades to her cuff.

There was a scratch at the door and then Gibbons came in, bearing with some difficulty, a ewer, a bowl, some strips of linen, a decanter and a glass.

"Put them on the table," Justin ordered. With a final sharp jerk and tear, the sleeve loosed all the way to the shoulder.

Feeling his gaze again upon her face, Manon looked away from her bloodied sleeve and up into his eyes. Justin appeared a trifle flushed, perhaps from wrestling with her stubborn coat. His countenance was grave.

"You may leave us," Justin said to Gibbons without turning. "I won't need you again tonight."

Gibbons withdrew obediently.

Justin took her chin and angled her face to the light. He shook his head.

"Do I have a black eye?" she asked anxiously.

"No, your pretty face is unmarred. Let's get this coat off," Justin said, sounding a bit more grim than he had even a moment before.

"Surely that isn't necessary. We can simply cut my shirt sleeve and roll it aside as well."

Justin shook his head, and taking her by her uninjured arm, drew her to her feet.

Manon again struggled, but Justin stopped her with his next words.

"We either take it off, or I call in Gibbons to hold you while I cut it off. The choice is yours."

Manon looked at him with dogged pleading.

"Don't ask me to ignore this, for I shan't. You are covered in street filth and blood. Do you wish for this cut to become inflamed and have your blood poisoned? Be sensible!"

Knowing that he was correct, Manon stopped resisting and worked at assisting Justin in the coat's removal. Even with the exaggerated care they practiced, the arm was still somewhat jostled and had Manon stifling an unmanly cry of pain by biting down hard on her lip.

"You're white as a sheet," he said gruffly, going to the table and pouring out a generous measure of brandy. "Drink this down before I start cutting at your shirt. I don't want you fainting on me."

Still optimistic, that she might escape with her secret undetected, Manon tossed back the liquor in the hope that it would help her bear the next moments with manly fortitude. If she fainted again, Justin would certainly call for Gibbons to assist him.

In spite of his brusque manner, Justin exercised exquisite care in cutting the shirt away from the wound.

"Hang on, little man. Just a bit more," Justin said encouragingly. "There. 'Tis done."

He turned and set the scissors aside. By now, Justin was also rather pale about the mouth, and Manon thought that it would be difficult to say which of them was more relieved to have the ordeal was nearly over.

Justin folded back the sleeve and fetched the bowl of cooling water. He made an effort to clean the gash, but the folds of the too large shirt kept becoming caught in the cloth and interfering with his efforts to be gentle.

"This is foolishness. The shirt and waistcoat must come off too," he said at last.

"Nay, I--"

"Bloody hell!" Justin rose to his feet and stalked away.

"You are as modest as a girl! Must every act be a struggle? Why is every act a struggle? I should just hit you on the head and leave you in a torpor. It would make this task a deal simpler."

Manon made no answer, too dreading to speak. Justin moderated his tone, but was no less grave when he continued his speech.

"The shirt is coming immediately off whether you are willing or no."

Manon confirmed her impression of his unbending mood with another look at his face. Justin had never appeared more serious.

"Justin..." Manon stopped, unable to find any rational argument that might sway him from his course.

"Will you not trust me to see that you are cared for?" The exasperation was leaking through his patience once again. "Whatever your secrets or deformities, you are safe with me. I shan't laugh at your hairless chest or skinny arms. There is nothing about your body that I have not seen a hundred score times before in other lads."

Manon began to laugh weakly, unable to hold the hysteria entirely at bay. A hand crept up to her lips and tried to press back the noise, but her brittle nerves were not be restrained.

Justin assessed her mental state with one comprehensive look and strode over to her, breathing a selection of pungent curses into the room.

In one move, he seized her shirt at the shoulder seam and tore it through to the neck. The cravat was pulled away with an impatient hand. The waistcoat followed and then the remains of her fine linen shirt jerk quickly over her head-- all without ever upsetting her injured arm.

Justin stared in consternation at the bindings that wrapped above her stays where the mark of the cudgel's stripe disappeared into the strips of white fabric.

Manon made an instinctive gesture to cover herself, but Justin pushed her hands aside and taking up the scissors, cut through the lacings of her undergarment. The corset was thrown down with the shirt.

All that remained above her breeches was the binding that secured her breasts. Her hand went back to its protective pose and was again borne away. The shock of scissors against bare skin removed her mind from the pain in her arm.

Too shaken to move, Manon let her hand drop helplessly while he finished his work, and with a last tug she was exposed to Justin's eyes.

She stared at him in an agony of apprehension.