Alan was blissfully content-and most pleasantly stuffed They had dined on cold sliced tongue and mustard, served gaming-house style, a la Lord Sandwich, between crusty new bread slices, on fried chicken, cheese and sweet pickles, and had washed it down with a cool bottle of Rhenish. Another sat waiting to open in the chill waters of the spring, an expertly tied"round turn and two half hitches" on its neck made from a length of small-stuff to draw it up with, which Caroline had thought most clever of him to bring along, and also most knacky of him to know how to tie.
She let go of his hand, and he put both of his palms beneath his head, as he gazed up at the fleecy clouds that sailed overhead, framed in the circle of the watchtower's ruin as if seen through a spyglass. Birds flitted and warbled through his squinted vision, a pair of rooks sailed along from one tree to another, and a falcon circled lazily above them.
He heard music, as Caroline sat up, legs tucked to one side, and began to play a very old country song he'd heard before but never knew the name to. He gave her an encouraging smile before turning his face back to the sky and closing his eyes, more than ready for a short nap of satiation and peace.
Almost at the verge of sleep, he did not notice when her music ceased. Almost adrift, he barely sensed her shadow over his sun-shut eyes, no more than he might have noticed a cloud occluding the light for a second or two. He grinned slightly as something soft tickled his cheeks, as a sweet, fruity perfume insinuated its way into his snoozing awareness of grass, wool and fried chicken.» What woke him was the soft, moist pressure of her lips. His eyes flew open, and there Caroline was, kneeling over him, bending down with one hand supporting her, the other holding her hair back, a most fond look on her face and in her eyes; grinning at waking him, grinning with delight at the way she had done so, and grinning with excitement of being, for a fleeting moment, just a bit wanton.
Chaperoned as they had been, as in public as they had been in the last week, they had not had opportunity to kiss beyond that one enthusiastic, but interrupted, moment the first day they'd ridden.
Alan smiled back at her, and she leaned forward once more to bend down to him. Then, being Alan Lewrie, his baser instincts took over, and he raised a hand to caress her cheek as their lips met, to stroke under her thick hair to the base of her neck and hold her from escaping, his arm encircling her upper back; the other to explore the length of her, down to her waist from her shoulder. To draw her down to recline against him. His nether regions sprang awake as wefl as their Jips parted, as their tongues met and circled-his with long practice, hers in a shivery experimental response.
To his immense surprise, she did sink down beside him, atop him, sliding her feet down toward his, as he began to kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, and her brow, to nuzzle deep under her hair to her ears, below and behind them into the secret hollows of her throat, and under her chin, down past her collarbones to her exposed chest.
With a shuddery impatience, she put her arms about his neck and sought his mouth with hers once more. With a swishing of cloth, in ancient instinct, one thigh crept up across his outstretched legs and near his groin. Mewing with her first heady experience?»f passion, she returned his attentions measure for measure, her breath coming ragged and sweetening cow-and-clover musky as it mingled with his, as his free hand stroked down her flung-across thigh to discover the last hem of her skirts, the smoothness of a stocking tied above her knee, and the exquisitely maddening softness and smooth-as-talc texture of her thigh. She shivered and wriggled against him as he made his way, soft as butterflies and caressing with his fingertips, all the way up the back of her leg to the fold where slim thigh ended, and soft-but-firm buttock began. Until she began to weep against his neck, her tears and breath hot as a forge.
"Oh, God, Alan, but I love you so much!" she cried, trembling with her passion. "I've always loved you!"
He froze. After a moment, his insistent hand came back up to her back to hold her close and stroke her hair. She kissed him once, twice, thrice more, chastely soft then rolling with enticement each time, before she leaned back the slightest space.
"I have loved you ever since you first came to our door, in those rented rooms in Wilmington, Alan," she told him, her lovely face alive with fleeting emotions, first joy and pleasure, then hesitancy at her revelation. "Five years I've dreamt of this. Five whole years I've wondered how you'd feel. I know proper young girls ain't to own to such. I know young English ladies oughtn't say such things, but…at last, you're here where I may at last tell you face to face…"
"And other things," Alan shuddered, trying to be light.
"And other things," she echoed, nodding slowly and resting her body a little more atop him again. "Our too-few letters, they'd never serve to tell you, Alan. You were half a world away, at sea, and you could have dismissed me as a foolish young chit, had I ever dared record my feelings towards you on paper. But now, we have so little time before you're off again… I could no longer keep it to myself, do you see, Alan? Before you sail out of my life again, you have to know how much… God save me!… how deep in love I am with you!"
"Oh, Caroline!" he whispered into her hair, folding her into his arms tighter and closer, for want of something else to say, as his mind rattled about like a startled sparrow in a cage. And, like a sparrow, seeking an exit! "You darling, darling girl!"
Damme, what do ye do now, ye poxy clown, he wondered? What do ye say to the poor little mort?
It was not as if he hadn 't been half-seas-over about her those past five years! Every one of her letters that had survived the post and the voyage of delivery had been a veritable feast for his soul, every sight and scent and sound of her in their too-short rencontres had made him woozy with both delight and lust.
But then, so had a platoon of delectable young mutton!
"Have I been a fool all this time, Alan dearest?" she asked in a small, slightly scared voice against his cheek. "I do confess I love you, have loved you such a long, long time! I've dreamt about you, thought about you… made up silly fantasies…!" She rushed on, frightened by his silence and unwilling to give him pause in which to answer, fearing an answer which would break her heart.
He could not hurt her feelings… could never even consider hurting her feelings! Of that he was sure. She was indeed dear to him. But by replying with the truth, or nearly the truth, he would step over the bounds of flattering but playful gallantry and "cream-pot" courtship into another, infinitely restrictive world.
Of course, he speculated quickly as she prated on, her family might not approve, after all, and would deny them. Or, he could vow his love for her, but plead his new commission in the Bahamas, requiring a long betrothal, for what that was worth to her, sparing her Tudsbury's, Byford's, and most especially Embleton's advances; then, what he might do with his own life overseas would be his own, still, setting anything permanent far off into the future.
Could he spurn her affection and break her heart? No. Could he be callous enough to sail off and leave her to a cruel fate? No. Could he rescue her? Yes, he could. And still remain mostly free.
"I love you, Caroline!" he muttered in reply at last, stopping her lips first with a fingertip, then once more with a kiss, and she yelped aloud in shivery relief, in pleasure, and in sudden, springing joy. And when she drew back once more to gaze upon him, her visage crumpled somewhere between tears and heavenly elation, the look she bestowed upon him, so full of love and promise, was all the reward that any lover could ever hope to see.
"Truly, I do love you!" he grinned back at her, jolting himself with the horrifying thought that, for once in his miserable "damme-boy" life, he was telling the truth when he said that to a young lady.
"Oh, Alan! God, you've made me so happyl" she exulted with a trembly laugh of victory. "My Alan! Wonderful, marvelous Alan, my own love!"
There ensued a few feverish minutes during which neither of them had need for speech as they swooned with the wonder of kisses and caresses, of rolling about on the blanket, limbs twining as they took the measure of each other, heated nearly to a forge's glow, or the blue white heat of steel. Experimenting with how two alien bodies would mesh together in the years to come, first clumsy and with no clue where hands and arms would be most comfortable or exciting, but learning quickly.
Though still gowned, Caroline was explored with gentleness, and nowhere Alan caressed or kissed her did she flinch from, though she started now and again as she experienced sensations she had not in her limited knowledge ever even imagined. And she chuckled and sighed and groaned with delight; laughing once out loud in reverie of a neighbor boy in North Carolina who had dared to kiss her on the shoulder and lips one night when she was sixteen-purse-lipped-and how she had at that time thought that the heady sensation she had experienced then was the height of human passion!
Alan reclined atop her. Her sack gown and underskirts were rucked up near her hips, her thighs parted, by his weight and ancient instinct on her part, their groins pressed close and shifting slowly-again in instinct on her part, as Alan tenderly undid the buttons of the back of her gown, rained kisses and endearments muffled by her flesh upon her shoulders, her chest, and the tops of her breasts.
"Alan," she groaned. "We…"
"Yes," he muttered hoarsely.
"We should stop. For now, dearest." She concluded, "Please?"
Jesus bloody Christ on a cross, he groaned to himself! Damme, not now!
But he, with the utmost regret of his life, suffered himself to slide to his left, to recline beside her, though with one arm behind her, still. There was no way he would be able to ride back to the great house in his raging, aching tumescence; he thought he would be fortunate, indeed, if he might manage to walk!
But she was right, he thought, miserably, as he enfolded her once more and confined his attentions to kisses and close hugs, with no more attempts at removing her gown. I'll not make her think she was tumbled in a hayrick like a goose-girl, he told himself! What if she became pregnant-I haven't my sheep-gut condom with me. A pristine betrothal could become a sword-point wedding in the blink of an eye, and then where'd we be, I ask you?
"You'll make me yours, soon, dearest Alan," she comforted. "I must own to ignorance about…" Caroline blushed and fumbled a tentative hand against his shirt buttons. "I'm told by older ladies it may be pleasurable, after the… after the first…"
"I'll not cause you pain, Caroline," he vowed. "I love you!"
"I know you would not!" she asserted strongly. "Please be a little patient with me, dearest. I know you love me. I've seen it in your eyes, I've heard it in your voice, every time we've been so fortunate as to be together. I would not have bided my time a whole five years if I had not\ I believe that… with you, it will be a complete pleasure. If this is anything by which I may judge! Do remember, I'm a country girl, after all, with two older brothers."
"Eh?" he asked, puzzled by her seeming non sequitur.
"The barnyards." She flushed again, lowering her gaze. "And our stud-pens. The animals every spring. And my brothers' boasting… about their… when they thought I couldn't hear."
"Oh!" he fathomed with a furtive smile.
"Once we're wed, then, I know my introduction to the pleasure of marriage will be gentle and tender, and so full of joy," she said.
Marriage, he gasped? Sweet Lord Jesus, what have I…?
"You are so smart and knowledgeable, Alan," she sighed happily. "And you are a man grown, after all, and… a sailor. One might hope… somewhat experienced…" She beamed, stroking his cheek fondly.
"Uhm," he allowed with a sage nod, squirming inside, thinking it wouldn't do if she knew he'd rattled half of London. "I will own to… ermm… previous encounters, infrequent though they were, being so much at sea. And only when… well, when the need was hellish."
"Then you must teach me, sweetest Alan," she said, smiling an enigmatic smile which he was not sure signified that she knew he was lying like a butcher's dog. "I will be a most willing pupil," she ended with a most fetching shyness, and a heart-stopping promise.
"Ah… hmm," he mused nonplussed, with his erotic fantasies at a furious gallop. Right, then; could it be that bad?
"You do wish to marry me, do you not, Alan?" she asked.
"Of course I do!" he heard himself sputter, "I love you!"
"Oh, Alan!" she cried, hugging him. "The first banns could be read this Sunday. We could be wed three weeks from now! Let us go ask of my family right now, so there's no possible delay! Mother may be half-expecting our wonderful news… though the others will be all amort over it!"
"Most likely," Alan agreed wholeheartedly. And damme if I ain't amort meself! Christ shit on a biscuit-marriage!
"Not only have you saved me from any number of cruel, cold destinies, Alan," she enthused as he got her to her feet and they embraced close together once more, "but you've given me every last measure of happiness I ever imagined I could know! I was so fearful you'd want to make a higher rank in the Fleet before you'd wed. I was fearful you'd have found someone else, all the years you were gone. That I was only spinning daydreams. We are awfully young. Most wait until their late twenties, when they're solidly established and all…" A hint of doubt swept over her face. "Are you as sure as I, Alan my love?"
"I love you, Caroline," he swore. "We love each other. Now, why would I risk losing you after all this time, and run the risk of never finding your like again?" There was truth in that, as well.
"Then let's hurry home!" she beamed.
Chapter 6
"Goddamn my eyes, sir!" Uncle Phineas screeched loud as some goosed panther once they bearded him in his study. "Goddamn my eyes! I'll not have it! And Goddamn yer blood, too, sir! Never'. Never, do ye hear, Mister Lewrie?"
"What possible objections could you have, Uncle?" Caroline inquired quite reasonably, having had an inkling or two as to what the man's reactions would be beforehand.
"Phineas, Alan Lewrie saved my sons at Yorktown, evacuated us from the wrath of those ignorant Rebels," Mother Charlotte hissed. "Why, without his continuing good offices, Governour and Burgess like as not'd be dead these five years past, and us, your own kin, lynched for Tories and buried under some crossroads in Wilmington!"
"This is man's business, Charlotte, and I'll thankee to remember that!" Uncle Phineas shot back. "Aye, ye may feel grateful to the pup, aye, he's done ye service. But, he's a swaggerin' rogue of a fortune hunter."
"This is man's business, Charlotte, and I'll thankee to remember that!" Uncle Phineas shot back. "Aye, ye may feel grateful to the pup, aye, he's done ye service. But, he's a swaggerin' rogue of a fortune hunter."
"I beg your pardon!" Alan snapped.
"Ye'll not coozen one acre o' land outa me, Mister Lewrie. Not one farthin' o' Chiswick rents ye'll have!"
The fight had been going on for a good five minutes, with Alan and Caroline, Governour and Mother Charlotte present, and the top was still on the decanter of brandy, nothing having been settled.
"My dear sir," Alan replied coldly, "for one of your farthings, I'd call you out for those slanderous allegations."
"Alan!" Caroline wailed, sure he'd blown the gaff. "Don't…"
"I've my Navy pay, sir," Alan said, getting to his feet. "Aye, I've no lands of my own. My father and his elder brother squandered the last blade of Kentish grass I'll ever hope to see. But there's two hundred pounds per annum from my grandmother Lewrie in Devon, and roughly six thousand pounds with Coutts Co. I stand to inherit from her. No land, though; that's spoken for by her late husband's kin, the Nuttbushes of Wheddon Cross. But there's another five thousand pounds of my own… prize money from the war, and from my last service in the East Indies. D'you think I need one whit of yours?"
The idea of posting banns, of publicly stating his love for Caroline, of being wed-much less betrothed-gave him the squirting fits so bad he'd not trust his own arse with a fart. But he had had just about enough abuse poured upon him, and upon Caroline as a foolish chit of a girl too stupid to know her own mind, or recognize a scoundrel when she met one.
"My stars!" Governour exclaimed, and gave a whistle at those sums. "Like to purchase freehold land, Alan? With that much, you could have your pick around here, hey?"
"Oh, do shut up, Governour!" Uncle Phineas snarled. "No, as head of this family…"
"My father is the head of my family, Uncle Phineas," Caroline pointed out.
"Bah! And a precious lot of good his wits'll do for ye, girl!"
"Phineas!" Charlotte gasped. "How dare you!" She put a handkerchief to her eyes, not for the first time during this battle, at that latest cruelty. "How dare you impugn my dear husband. Your own brother!"
"Any court in the land'd recognize my rights as elder in matters such as this, Charlotte. Forgive me me outburst, but this fella's driven me beyond all temperance." Phineas calmed. "In Sewallis's stead, it falls t'me t' decide what's best fer our dear Caroline, and I don't judge this best."
"Uncle, I will not be sold to Harry Embleton," Caroline told him. "I am old enough to know my own mind. Old enough to wed whom I will."
"Who said anythin' 'bout sellin' anybody to anybody?" Phineas Chiswick snapped, irritated beyond measure by her calm demeanor.
"Uncle, Alan has substance," Governour commented. "Not merely wherewithal to establish a household, or obtain lands. I've found him to be a most talented and capable young man. He's a fine future in the Navy. End up an admiral, like as not."
God spare me, Alan thought of that idea!
"Governour…!" Phineas harrumphed, as though Brutus had just slipped the dagger into his Julius Caesar."Yes, he does," Mother Charlotte echoed.
"And she loves him, Uncle Phineas." Govemour reddened.
"Good God, what's fleetin' heat got t'do with anythin'?" the old man groused. "Marriages'r fer-bloody-ever in our class. Let the young'uns run off with just any sparkin' rogue'r round-heeled lass, and where's sense, logic, and bottom t'be, I ask ye? Then where's a parent's wishes come inta play, a parent's better sense? And cream-pot, stableboy love don't last beyond the first swad-dlin' clothes, and then, where's the girl? Miserable, I tell ye, bound to a bully-buck scoundrel and halfway t'the poor's house!"
"I suppose that is why you never married, Phineas," Charlotte Chiswick muttered loud enough for all to hear.
"Charlotte, ye…!" the old man gaped, strangling on curses and turning red as roses in near-apoplexy.
"I approve," Charlotte stated, mouse-timorous of stating any opinion. "And, I am certain Sewallis would as well, were he…"
"Oh, Mother, thank you!" Caroline squealed, going to her.
"I don't!" Phineas barked.
"I do," Governour said, once the echoes had died away. "After all, I wed for love. Mother's told me long ago, before the war, she did. Were Alan Lewrie truly a black-hearted schemer, were he truly worthless, I would not approve. I had hoped, of course, that she and-Harry might…"
"Gove, believe me," Caroline assured him, sharing his sadness, if only because her brother was sad for what was not to be, "I could never feel the slightest affection for Harry. For anyone but Alan."
"Ye throw away a future baronet, a Member of Commons, and the finest estate in Surrey," Uncle Phineas griped.
"And if not Harry, a man of worth and bottom, like… like…"
"A man old enough to be my father, Uncle Phineas," Caroline said. "There could be no pleasant converse with Mr. Tudsbury for me. I cannot find contentment in contemplating acres, with nothing more in common with him."
"Not one shillin' o' Chiswick worth ye'll have," Phineas vowed, deflated and confounded at last, but willing to go game though he was blocked at both ends. "No dowry, no 'dot,' no annuity."
"I would find that acceptable," Caroline stated, going from her mother's side to take Alan's hand as she sensed he would relent.
"We have more than enough, sir," Alan added.
"She will not!" Governour insisted, slamming a fist onto the arm of his chair. "My sister'll not slink away like a midnight eloper. She will not go unblessed nor unencumbered with proper due!"
"Amen, my boy," Mother Charlotte agreed, though softly.
"And just what, beyond her paraphernalia and household goods, d'ye think there is t'spare, lad?" Phineas rejoined nastily. "Summat from yer revenues? Recollect, the girl herself swears I've no rights over her. That Sewallis is head o' her family. Well, let him dower her, then! Hunnert pound'r so pe rannum, hey? That sum about right? Oh, let's make it hunnert'n eighty pound t'keep her while her husband is gallivantin' about the Bahamas fer three years."
"I know how constrained our finances are, Governour," Caroline told her brother. "I will not demand anything that would deprive you or Millicent of a single morsel."
"Burgess sent home nigh on three thousand pounds, Caroline," Governour stated. "I could…"
"No," she insisted, hitching a deep breath. "And a simple wedding. So no one will be begrudging, or beholden, later."
"Just as long as we have even a semblance of a blessing," Alan said, left out of the conversation, and the long-running dispute among the Chiswicks, gladly up until that moment. And even more impressed with Caroline's level-headed sensibility. "We'll not coach to Gretna Green. We'll not elope to Portsmouth, and some sailor's chapel in a warehouse stew. I have enough to rent or purchase a decent cottage for us, and enough to provide for her proper comfort and station in life while I'm away. Should you demand a long engagement…"
"Alan!" Caroline protested, thinking still of a quick match.
"Should you demand we wait until I've returned from my active commission, I would provide for her, gladly," he concluded. Damme, but they're hitching the cart to this horse a tad rapid for my likes, he thought! It was one thing to win approval and blessing, but he'd thought the altar could wait awhile longer, surely!
"Alan!" Caroline frowned, trying to sound fond, though vexed.
"Forgive me, Caroline, but I'll not abduct you without your family's blessings," he said. "Much as I adore you, I'll not have you starting life with me under any sort of cloud. I'll not have anyone in this world ever suggest we did not begin on the right footing."
"Oh, Alan, you're such a dear." Caroline relented, a little.
Then why do I feel like I'm declaiming like a posturing clown, like one of the actors in The Beggar's Opera, he wondered (not forthe first time) whenever he'd assayed sounding noble, decent, and upright? Most sensible people throw fruit at such players!
Damme, I could damn near give me hives!
"She is not due to inherit anything, unless absolute disaster strikes this family, Uncle." Govemour sighed, rapping his knuckles on the side table for caution, "Pray God it don't." He added for extra measure, "You disclaim responsibility for her, then?"
"I do," Phineas smouldered.
"Then as eldest, in our father's stead, I'll pledge that when our finances are sufficient to spare an annuity, Caroline'll have an hundred and twenty pounds. Alan, dear little sister Caroline, devil if I know just when that'll be, God bless me, but I'll swear you that on paper!"
"Governour, you don't have to." Caroline teared up, rushing to embrace her elder brother. "But thank you, and God bless you for it."
"Thankee, Governour," Alan added, going to take his hand and give it a vigorous pumping.
"Ah, I should have read the signs, you know, Alan," Governour chuckled, shaking his head at his blindness. " 'Twas all we ever heard from her… Alan this, Alan that. And nary a swain no matter how he tried could sway her. You will be a good husband to her. You'll be good and true to her, and make her happy."
Lewrie didn't think that sounded much like a question. And for a fleeting moment, he conjured up the scarifying image of Governour's ruddy phiz framed over the yawning barrel of a dragoon pistol, big as a twenty-four-pounder, pointed right between his eyes.
"I swear I will, Governour," he smiled.
"He will be," Caroline agreed happily, an arm linked with his.
"Swear you will, indeed, you will!" Governour barked with wry amusement. "We'll have a coach brought 'round. Mother, I do believe you'd do well to accompany them to the vicar's, hey?"
"Just let me go and change, son."
Chapter 7
Hounds yelped, handlers cursed, and riders jollied themselves in mounting and boasts, as servants of Embleton Hall made their way between the fidgety horses with trays of stirrup cups to hand up to eager hunters. And tried to avoid the stalings on the drive and the grass, the fresh puddles of urine as fine horses tittupped and farted prior to a morning's run across country.
Harry Embleton reined his overeager stallion in roughly as he attempted to join the Chiswick party. At the dinner and dance the night before, he'd suspected there was something different about Caroline. She'd danced with him three times; a bloody wonder, that. And she'd been pleasant, for once, though distant, as was her usual wont, but he'd sensed it was for a different reason. For awhile he'd imagined that she was finally coming 'round, that Governour had worked on her long enough to incline her affections towards him. But then, she had danced five times with that interloping Lieutenant Lewrie, and had evinced such a rosy-cheeked elation towards him that it had taken all of his self-control not to have rushed onto the chalked dance floor to pull the smarmy devil away and thrust him from the house! The common, jumped-up… son of a whore!
That Lieutenant Lewrie danced extremely well, with such liquid grace and style to any music, and set every eligible girl to twittering like so many brainless hens, was infuriating as well.
And what did all those curious stares and giggles, those sly looks from the girls mean, he wondered? They had been directed at him as much as Caroline… surely that meant something wondrous was about to occur! But, they giggled and leered at Lewrie, too!
He had thought to ask of Governour, Millicent, or her uncle, butcould not stoop so low as to gamer gossip. A young man in his class and position could not; would not!
"A fine morning for the fox, Reverend," he said, tipping his hat to the vicar as he passed him and his daughter Emily. Emily had once been spooned by Governour Chiswick, had "set her cap" for him, in fact; now she'd lost Governour, it was not much of a secret she pined for Harry. There were few suitable bachelors left in the parish. Surprisingly, she did not gush over him so blatantly as would be her custom, and only looked away, reddening a trifle.
"Aye, 'twill be, young sir," the vicar agreed, though shying. Devil take the lot of 'em, what was the matter this morning? Harry wondered. Do I look like I have leprosy?
"Harry, me lad!" Roger Oakes bellowed, waving to him to come see him. "A wager? Twenty guineas, first to the hitching rail?"
Harry turned his horse's head to join him, distracted. "Twenty's an insult, Roger," Harry sneered. "Make it fifty." "Done!" Oakes replied heartily. "Mind you, you kill that fine animal, no matter you're first, and the wager's off."
"If he goes under, as your poor prad may, then I've lost both race and guineas. Good enough for you, you scapegrace?"
"Aye,- fair enough. Hoy, lad. Brandy here for two," Oakes ordered a scurrying footman. "Been down to the church, Harry?" he asked as two more of their fellows joined them.
"Not since Sunday last," Harry shrugged, looking over his shoulder at Caroline, who was beaming and laughing with Governour, Millicent and the dashing Lieutenant Lewrie, missing the wink Oakes tipped the others.
"What's posted makes interesting reading," Oakes sniggered. "Damn yer blood, Oakes," Harry snapped, having just about all he could take of leering, winking, and tittering, of odd reactions to his presence. "What's got into everyone today? And what's so bloody important posted at church?"
"Banns," Oakes smiled maliciously. "To be read o' Sunday, and read last night, I'm told. That makes two, I'm thinking. But, then, there may be a need of haste, aye lads?" And the rest chuckled over the rims of their stirrup cups.
"And who's the unfortunate young drab?" Harry smiled, sensing a wry jape or two over some yokel's slut. Or a juicy scandal.
"Caroline Chiswick, of all people," Roger informed him with a wink. "Damme, when we met Lewrie, he told you your virginity was secure. Didn't say anything about the lovely Caroline, though, did he? Ha ha! Damned fast workers, the Navy!"
"Goddamn you…" Harry shouted, striking the cup from Oakes's amazed hand. "Devil take you, you…!"
The Master of the Hunt was summoning riders, and the Master of Hounds, his own father, was pacing away, blowing his shrill horn to get things started. There was a good scent laid down with a brush to spur the hounds into the countryside, where they'd be sure to get a true spoor, and they were off in a brindle, speckled flood, yelping and baying as if they'd treed or denned something already.
"Apologize or owe me satisfaction, damn you, Harry!" Oakes demanded, face white with umbrage. He took Harry's wrist in his hand to hold him. "I'll not take that, even from a friend!"
"You'll have to stand in line, you bastard!" Harry screeched, tears in his eyes. "Someone else owes me satisfaction first!" He twisted free and put spurs to his stallion, making it rear and whicker with anger at his treatment.