Cast Adrift - Book 02

"Oh, well, the ship on which you were nearly taken," Barbara chimed in. "I imagine you were quite frightened."

"I rather imagine she was nothing of the kind," another voice cut in.

The women turned to see two men.

"Mr. Whitson," Caroline exclaimed. "How delightful to see you back. Are you finished in France so quickly then?"

"Not at all, Lady Stanhope," Philip Whitson said. "I will return next week, in fact, and we are likely to be there all summer and most of the autumn, I fear. But I did have the honor of escorting his Lordship back to England to receive the honors due him. And he particularly begged for an introduction to the Lioness of the Bay of Biscay."

Caroline blushed, both because of Philip's reference and because she finally recognized the gentleman who had spoken when the two men approached.

"Your Lordship needs no introduction," she said. "All of England knows the Duke of Wellington."

The two women next to her gave a visible start. Perhaps there were those who did not know him, Caroline thought as she repressed a smile, those whose knowledge of English heroes extended only through the early Middle Ages.

"Nonetheless," Philip continued with a smile. "My Lord, allow me to present Lady Stanhope."

"Enchanted," Wellington said. He took Caroline's hand in his and bowed low to press his lips against her flesh, a kiss that lingered perhaps slightly longer than propriety would have suggested appropriate. It confirmed everything she had heard about his reputation. The victor of the battle of Vitoria and the siege of Toulouse was in his forties, married but, as was often the case when he stepped out in London society, with a wife nowhere to be seen. He was a handsome man, with dark, flashing eyes that seemed full of wit.

Caroline was not so lost in those eyes, however, that she forgot her own manners.

"And these, my Lord, Mr. Whitson, are Miss Charlotte Pelham and Miss Barbara Corring."

"Ladies," Wellington said with a small inclination of his head. "I understand, Miss Pelham, that I am to meet your brother on the first of next month."

"Truly?" Charlotte said.

"He and I and Lady Stanhope are to share the stage at the party to be given by the Queen. Now if you two ladies will excuse me, I must ask this lovely heroine for a dance."

"With pleasure, my Lord."

Caroline allowed Wellington to escort her to the dance floor. A glance back over her shoulder told her that both women appeared quite worried. Perhaps all the arrangements between Miss Corring and Sir Edward had not been completed, and there was no demonstration of the danger that Caroline posed greater than that she had managed to attract the attentions of the Duke of Wellington.

"Mr. Whitson warned me that you might not accept a dance," the Duke said mischievously.

That remark, it seemed, was itself an invitation. It would only take a moment's flattery by Caroline -- an acknowledgement of the Duke's unstated but obvious interest -- to turn their nascent friendship into something more. As charming as he was, though, Caroline had no interest in a dalliance with a married man.

"Mr. Whitson had never met Charlotte and Barbara before tonight," she answered. "Shall we?"

Caroline ultimately experienced a twinge of regret for having parried his subtle advance so quickly. The Duke of Wellington was also an excellent dancer, and during the course of the first dance, offered a series of outrageous observations on some of the other notables in the room that had Caroline clutching his arm to keep from laughing aloud. He expressed his admiration for her heroics on the Wallace, which he knew in considerable detail, and asked her to convey his warmest regard to her brother-in-law William, who had recently joined him in the Order of the Bath. They danced twice more before he finally kissed her hand again and claimed an early morning meeting at the Prime Minister's office.

"But I will see you in two short weeks, my dear."

"I shall look forward to it, my Lord."

It was a harmless flirtation in the end, but Caroline found that she had enjoyed it immensely. And when, the next day, she received a hand-delivered invitation to the Queen's celebration on the first of June, she quietly allowed herself to enjoy that as well.

**********

While Caroline was getting ready for that party, Captain Sir William Stanhope was sitting in his cabin some 400 miles to the south, off the coast of France. The Classic had touched at Portsmouth on its way back, long enough for its Captain and coxswain to make a brief trip to London. Now they were less than a day's sail away from the invasion fleet under the command, at least until it reached Bermuda, of Rear Admiral Poultney Malcolm.

"Come in." William raised his voice to make sure he was heard through the cabin's heavy door.

"You wished to see me, sir?" Matthew Cooper asked as he hesitantly poked his head through the doorway.

"Come in, Matthew. Close the door. Have a seat."

The coxswain followed all three orders slowly.

"Bridges!" William raised his voice again to summon his steward.

"Sir?" the man asked as he entered the cabin.

"Rouse up a bottle of the '08 from the net."

Bridges raised an eyebrow, as if to suggest that the captain did not actually intend to share a bottle of his best with a lowly coxswain, did he? William stared him down, and Bridges finally beat a retreat to locate the worst '08 that he could find.

"You have been quite glum on this voyage, Matthew," William said when they were finally settled and assured of no further interruptions.

"Glum, sir?"

"Unhappy, Matthew. Even Lieutenant Broadbent noted it, and if you've managed to appear glum to Lieutenant Broadbent . . ."

William trailed off as Matthew smiled at his jest. There was no more taciturn officer in the fleet than the first lieutenant of the Classic.

"So what is it, Matthew?"

"Sir?"

William had long ago acquired the gift of silence, and it didn't take long for his coxswain to crack.

"I made her an offer, sir, when we were last in town."

"Lucy?" William could not conceal his delight.

As he nodded, Matthew added, "She turned me down."

"Matthew! She could not hope to do better than you."

"Apparently she could, sir."

"Well, I am truly sorry for it. For my part, I would have been very glad to have been able to make an offer to Lady Stanhope if circumstances were otherwise."

"Circumstances, sir?"

"If she were not my brother's widow," William explained.

This time it was Matthew's silence, in combination with the puzzled expression on his face, that compelled his captain to continue.

"The biblical injunction, of course," he blurted out. "Against marrying your brother's widow. God punishing David for marrying Bathsheba and the like."

"I would not presume to know more than a post-captain about anything, sir," Matthew said. "But I don't believe that Bathsheba had been married to David's brother. Sir."

"Are you sure?" William began looking about the cabin for his Bible.

"The Bible was the only book we had growing up, sir. I believe the problem in David's case was that he actually killed the lady's husband or some such. That was what the Lord had a problem with, as I recollects."

"Really?" William's spirits began to rise.

"Now, there is something in the book of Leviticus, it seems to me, about not marrying thy brother's wife," Matthew said thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

"Really," William said again, sitting back in his chair.

"Not much of a punishment, though. You're only entitled to daughters thereafter, or perhaps no children at all."

It was William's turn to become lost in thought.

"A man could live with that," he muttered.

"Indeed, sir. Well. I should probably return to my duty."

"Perhaps so, Matthew. One last toast. To Miss Lucy and Mrs. Stanhope. May they find happiness in their new home."

"Oh, I know Miss Lucy will, sir. She did not take to that French girl's cooking."

"Really? I think of Jeanne as a wonderful cook."

"As do I, sir. But Miss Lucy would be losing her breakfast nearly every morning."

"Every morning, Matthew?"

"Yes, sir."

William sat back in his chair and started to chuckle.

"Matthew," he finally said. "You and Lucy never, um . . ."

Matthew's eyes widened.

"No, sir," he blurted out.

"It never occurred to you that Miss Lucy may have rejected your offer because that unfortunate incident a few months back left her, uh, with child?"

Matthew simply stared at his captain.

"Best not to think any more on what a prize lot of ninnies we are, Matthew. Let us toast instead to a quick end to the war and an even quicker return to England."

"Hear hear, sir."

CHAPTER SIX

10 July 1814

My dearest Mrs. Hunter,

It is with some difficulty that I respond to your very kind letter of 7 April, which I received last week. I so enjoyed hearing all of the news of your lovely children, and of your husband's success in business. Riley in particular sounds like quite the little hooligan, and I am quite certain that he will prove just as charming in his adulthood as he has been devilish in his youth. The happy domesticity about which you write makes it all the more trying for me to write you with news that may lead you to no longer regard me with the sisterly affection that is so evident in your letter. Nevertheless, the lifelong love that I will bear for my Geoffrey compels me to advise you of a pending change in my own status.

On the second of June, I was honoured to be invited to a Drawing Room hosted by Her Majesty the Queen. As you may know by now, Geoffrey was awarded a posthumous title by the King at the same ceremony that William became a Knight Companion of the Order of the Bath. I also had a small role in the battle that William directed, consisting largely of ensuring that his ship, the Wallace, did not veer off into the Atlantic, stranding him upon the French ship that he had so gallantly captured. As a result, I have been in some demand here in London, and my escorts to the Drawing Room included no less than the Duke of Wellington and Sir Edward Pelham, Geoffrey's former captain on the Classic, who recently brought that wicked Bonaparte to his exile on the Island of Elba.

I have never been to such a gathering nor dressed in such opulent finery, and I would have been absolutely overwhelmed if not for the kindness of his Lordship and Sir Edward. At one point, as we were seated apart from the horrible crush of people intended to do us honour, Sir Edward remarked that if Napoleon had seen that this crowd of favour-seekers and sycophants were the power behind the King, he would have been emboldened to continue for another five years. To which Lord Wellington retorted with a paraphrase of an epigram that he had apparently delivered in Spain when sent a new draft of troops: "I don't know what effect these men would have on the enemy, but by God, they terrify me." It was all we could do to stop laughing when Her Majesty finally appeared.

Sir Edward, who had brought me the news of Geoffrey's death in person, has always been the very soul of kindness to me, and being thrown together in such a proceeding had the perhaps inevitable effect of drawing us even closer. When he later requested an opportunity to call upon me, I found that I could not refuse him.

Since that time, I have grown to appreciate his many fine qualities. While I cannot look upon him as a substitute for Geoffrey, nor my affection for him as in any way a replacement for the love I bore your brother, I do have a young son to think of as well, and I am convinced that he would be better off with a father in his life than without. This is even more certain in his case, as your father persists in maintaining legal proceedings, the result of which will be to declare my son illegitimate.

Accordingly, I have accepted Sir Edward's proposal of marriage. We have not as yet made an announcement of our betrothal, as Edward is quite busy re-fighting the Battle of the Nile. It is an odd occupation for a grown man, to be sure, but he takes no end of delight in it. In two weeks time, on the 1st of August, there will be a Golden Jubilee to commemorate 100 years of these German kings and also the Glorious Peace in Europe (although we are really celebrating our victory over Napoleon; I doubt a Pax Napoleonica would have been considered quite so glorious). Part of the celebration will be a re-creation of the Nile naval battle in the Serpentine, and as Edward was one of Lord Nelson's lieutenants at the Nile, he has been asked to supervise. We will publicly announce our engagement to a select group of friends the following day and exchange our vows in Westminster the following month.

I hope you do not think too poorly of me. With your permission, I will keep the drawing of Geoffrey that you sent me last year as a precious memento of the love that we shared. Should you desire it back, however, I beg you will not feel the least reluctance to ask me. I would dearly have loved to have had you as my sister for the rest of our lives, even separated by thousands of miles of sea, and I regret that circumstances were not otherwise.

With fond affection,

Caroline Stanhope

Caroline heard a sound behind her and turned to see Edward standing in the doorway.

"Edward!" she said with a start. "How did you, that is . . ."

"Ah, your Miss Sarah is my best ally."

Caroline sighed. "Perhaps I should hire another woman. Sarah has enough to do with looking after Michael and Lucy."

"You will be the lady of my house soon enough, my love. But I would be happy to send one of my girls over."

"No, no. You're quite right, Edward. I gave Mr. Pembroke notice today that I would be leaving at the end of August. He was not a happy man."

"Writing your sister-in-law?" Edward asked.

"Yes," Caroline answered with a whisper. "I wonder if I shall be able put it in the post after I read it over tomorrow."

"I cannot believe that my betrothed would ever lack courage."

"Courage?" Caroline said with a laugh. "Perhaps not. But judgment? That is altogether different."

"Come to bed, my darling," Edward said, his voice husky with desire.

"Bed?"

"Yes. You do have one, I see. Almost as nice as mine."

"But Lucy, and Sarah."

"Are your discreet servants, Caroline. Besides, Miss Sarah already promised me breakfast in the morning."

"Why, that little . . ."

She was unable to sustain her false umbrage. Caroline had been terrified at their first coupling, over a month ago now. Geoffrey was the only man with whom she had previously made love, and then only during the short honeymoon before he had to return to this ship. Edward was ten years her senior, and Caroline had little doubt but that he had enjoyed his ports of call as much as all sailors did. It was true that the act itself no longer held any terror for her, but she wanted desperately for Edward to see her as a woman, and not as a girl of twenty-one. All she had to draw on were the sights of the men and women in her father's prison, married and unmarried, coupling unashamedly in their cells as she had walked past.

But Edward was a man of extraordinary patience, a man, moreover, who had no intention of doing anything that would let such a jewel of a woman slip through his grasp. Caroline's confidence had grown considerably since that first time, and although she allowed Edward to pull her away from her writing desk, she made an impulsive decision as they reached the bed. She stopped, and when Edward turned to learn the cause of her delay, she quickly undid the sash of her dressing gown and let it fall from her shoulders to the floor.

"Caroline," he whispered, drinking in the naked body of his fiancé. It was a magnificent body. The only effect of her pregnancy had been an embarrassingly permanent swelling of her breasts, and an accompanying sensitivity that made her shiver with pleasure each time they were touched. Otherwise, her figure had returned to its previous contours, her torso only serving to accentuate the narrowness of her waist and the swell of her hips.

It was the center of those hips that caught Edward's attention. Caroline had neatly trimmed the lush, brown growth between her thighs, offering him a teasing glimpse of her cleft. She stood there in front of him, her hands on her hips, one foot slightly in front of the other with her heel off the floor, allowing him to fully see her for the very first time in the flickering light of the oil lamp that stood on his bedside table.

He reached for her, only to have her grab his arms. Stunned, he allowed her to push him back onto the bed.

She leaned over and reached for his dressing gown, pulling it open and yanking his drawers down his thighs and over his knees. Stepping on the garment, she pushed it to the floor and allowed him to free his feet just as she climbed atop him.

"It's my turn, darling," she said, her voice dropping to a lusty alto. "This time I want to be astride my magnificent stallion."

She continued moving up until she was sitting atop his thighs. He reached for her again, and she caught his hands once more.

"No," she told him, wagging a finger at him as he pulled his hands back to his side. "You will just do as you're told, naughty Sir Edward."

He could feel his manhood straining toward her as she held herself above him, just out of reach. He desperately wanted to grab her hips and impale her upon himself, but it was clear she had something different in mind. In the month since the Queen's Drawing Room, she had learned much. And like any spirited filly, she had to be given her head sometimes.

She put her fingers on her belly, tracing them upwards slowly. Edward gasped as they reached the underside of her breasts, and then curved inward, as she cupped the white flesh in the palms of her hands. He stared in wonder as he saw her nipples poking through her fingers, stiffening as they were squeezed between them. His cock jumped as she pushed her breasts together, rubbing one against the other.

She delighted in his open leering, the tongue hanging from his mouth, his struggle not to reach out and claim her. Licking her lips, she dropped her hands lower, pushing them across her belly this time, slowly approaching the triangle between her legs.

Caroline paused there, enjoying the touch of her fingers against her sex, wondering if it really would be a sin to do this to herself some time, when she was alone in the house. And then one hand plunged through her legs, to take her fiancé's cock in her slender fingers. He groaned as he felt her thumb on the ridge, softly stroking him. He was between her middle and ring fingers, which curled around to add to the anticipation of her delicious and most unexpected manipulations.

"What do you want, darling?" Caroline asked, her voice a sultry promise. "Tell me."

Sir Edward Pelham knew perfectly well how to speak to the common women and whores that he had encountered as a young sailor. But this was a lady, the Lady Caroline Stanhope to be precise. She couldn't possibly want that. Could she?

"Tell me, Edward," she repeated. "Tell me what you want."

He cleared his throat.

"For you to, er . . ."

She smiled encouragement.

"To what, darling?" she asked. She had pulled his cock up so that the tip brushed against her moist, swollen sex. She was rubbing it wantonly back and forth against herself, her face flushed with pleasure, her skin quivering with need. "To fuck me," he whispered.

His reward was immediate. His cock was enveloped in a velvet glove, trapped in a prison of hot, undulating muscle.

"Again," Caroline repeated a few minutes later.

"Fuck me, darling," Edward said.

His words were electric. She closed her eyes and rested her palms on his taut stomach.