St. Vincent - 42. Chapter 42: Final Chapter

March 21, 1797

“I will be at Brentwood,” Granger told Cheevers as he mounted his horse.

“Yes, Sir George,” Cheevers said. “I will forward any messengers or correspondence to you there.”

“Thank you, Cheevers,” Granger said politely. “Are you ready, my lord?”

“Lead off, Sir George,” Chartley answered with a smile. They’d had an athletic night last night, an evening of wild, passionate sex, so much that Granger forced himself to post a little higher while trotting so his ass wouldn’t hurt so much. Winkler and Phillips were with him as well, to round out their party. Granger chuckled to himself as he saw Winkler and Phillips ride. Neither one of them was much of a horseman. When Granger had first met Winkler, he’d been unable to even mount a horse. He’d come a long way since then, but it was still a challenge for him to manage anything but the most docile of beasts. Granger promised himself that he wouldn’t give in to the temptation to break into a full canter when they were out of the City, and cause those two young men to either get lost, or lose their mounts.

“We have a stop to make,” Granger stated to the group. He’d told Chartley about his meeting with the King, and with the Prince of Wales, but not about his meeting with Spencer. They rode up to the dockyard and they were passed through by the sentry without having to utter a word. He either knew them, or was significantly cowed by their uniforms to let them pass unmolested. They rode past the dry docks, and Granger saw Belvidera moored outside of one, looking sad and wounded. Granger paused and looked at her, feeling her pain.

“Did you forget something?” Chartley asked.

“I did not,” Granger answered cryptically. He prodded his horse forward, as if symbolically putting his old ship, the ship he loved, behind him. They rode up to another ship that was moored next to the dock, with a gangway extended to allow easy access. Granger pulled up his horse and studied her, staring at her bow and smiling as he did.

“Then why are we here?”

“This is to be my new command,” Granger said.

“She’s brand new, sir,” Phillips observed, his eyes wide at the honor they were doing him.

“Aye, Phillips, she is brand new. His Majesty’s frigate Bacchante,” Granger said, with pride in his voice.

“What’s a bacchante, sir?” Winkler asked.

“A bacchante is a female follower of the Roman god Bacchus. They are known for drinking and dancing until they work themselves into a frenzy, then they engage in uncontrolled sexual acts,” Granger said, recalling his training in the classics.

Chartley and Winkler laughed uproariously, and Granger joined them. “I cannot think of a better name for a ship you command,” Chartley noted, making all of them laugh again, even Phillips this time. It dawned on Granger that Phillips didn’t know him very well, and that he was probably worried at the memories hearing ‘uncontrolled sexual acts’ might recall from the night he was tied up in Davina’s basement. He smiled engagingly at the strapping young man to thank him for his concern.

“The figurehead looks a bit fearsome, sir,” Winkler observed. It was a woman who appeared to be dancing. She had an arm extended in a gesture one might see in a ballet, with her body slightly tilted. Her breasts were exposed, and her face had an expression that Winkler had misinterpreted as anger. In fact, it was lust, so perfectly captured by the man who had carved her.

“I think she looks rather crazed and horny,” Chartley corrected. “And she has large breasts.” They laughed again, and then Granger let his eyes move past her, to the forecastle. The snub nose of a nine-pounder poked out at them, the perfect gun for a bow-chaser.

They dismounted and walked next to her on the dock. “She seems so much bigger than Belvidera,” Chartley observed.

“She is 20 feet longer and five feet wider than Belvidera,” Granger said. “She is rated for 38 guns, so will carry six more 18-pounders than Belvidera does.” They walked back to the stern, where the expansive windows spread across the back of the ship. Her name was emblazoned across her stern.

He returned to the gangway and walked aboard, followed by his party. A man who appeared to be a carpenter blinked at him as he strode onto her deck. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I am Sir George Granger. I am a candidate to command the Bacchante.” He hadn’t received his formal orders yet, so that seemed the appropriate way to put it.

“Welcome aboard, sir,” he said with a smile.

“I won’t trouble you for long today,” Granger said affably. “I just wanted to look around a bit.”

“That’s fine, sir.” The man went off to do his job, while Granger and his group explored the ship.

“She looks more solid than Belvidera,” Chartley observed.

Granger cringed at his reference that Belvidera might be inferior in some way, then relaxed. Once he took command of Bacchante and got to know her, he would be just as defensive of her. “Belvidera was a French experiment, a ship built tougher, to withstand harder use, but she was still French,” Granger said, grinning. “This ship is built to British specifications, and built to withstand a lot more punishment. Her scantlings are larger, and her hold is bigger, designed to contain more stores for a longer voyage. I fear that is a good thing.”

“What do you mean?” Chartley asked. Granger led him over to the taffrail, away from the workers, where they could talk in private.

“I am being given command of the Bacchante and my first mission is to sail her to the Indies.”

“You will get to see Bertie,” Chartley observed.

“That is my purpose. He is being recalled, and I am being sent to collect him.”

Chartley’s eyes bulged at that, and he lost his normal composure for a few seconds. “Surely not?”

“That is what I was told by his lordship,” Granger said, referring to Spencer.

“He must be warned,” Chartley asserted strongly.

“I am not sure that I was supposed to reveal this information to you to begin with,” Granger said severely, reminding Chartley that he was supposed to be trustworthy. “Why must we warn Bertie?”

“George, as soon as you arrive to recall him, he will cease to be governor. Bertie makes so much money because he risks a lot, and he does so on a constant basis. If you arrive and pull the rug out from under him while he is in the midst of some scheme, it could very well ruin him.”

“If the scheme is illegal, would that not be the fair thing to happen?”

Chartley looked at Granger, frustrated with his naiveté. “It’s not about illegalities, it’s about who reaps the rewards. If he’s not governor, others will then fill the vacuum. If he succeeds, they will take the profits. If he fails, they will merely laugh. Either way, he could end up in dire straits.”

“And what good would warning him do?”

“He will be able to consolidate and close out his affairs, such that he takes what fortune he has made and brings it home to England with him. It is really the dream of every expatriate there, to do return home filthy rich.”

Granger thought about that. “How would we warn him?”

“I must go back to the Indies, and I must leave at once.”

“You would beat us, even if you had only a month or so for a head start?” Granger asked. If Bacchante were as fast as Belvidera, it would be tough to find a faster ship to reach the Indies.

“There is a ship sailing any day now, bound for the Moluccas. I know of her because I know the captain. It would be easy for me to seek passage on her. She is a sloop, and fast.”

Granger instinctively began to pace the quarterdeck, a deck he would probably spend much more time pacing in the future. It was longer than Belvidera’s quarterdeck, and built as if designed just for officers to take their exercise by walking. Chartley joined him as he did, strolling up and down in silence until Granger collected his thoughts. “I feel that because this is confidential information, that even if you rush to warn Bertie, I have grounds to set some conditions. In effect, I have only one.”

“And what is that?” Chartley was eyeing him curiously, and Granger was all too aware that their relationship had changed again. Only an hour ago, they had been lovers and partners, in a sense. Now they were negotiating with each other; they were competitors. Granger tried not to let that depress him too much.

“Bertie must agree to come home with me without resistance, without causing me any problems. When I get there, we will leave as soon as humanly possible. I will want to get back to England, and I don’t want him dreaming up some scheme to dodge this recall and keep me traipsing about in the damned South Seas.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“Can you make that pledge for him, on his behalf?” Granger demanded.

Chartley nodded. “I can.” That almost bothered Granger more than their bargaining, that Chartley was still so close to Bertie that he could pledge Bertie’s word without much hesitation. They strode off the ship, and Chartley mounted his horse. “I should leave at once.”

Granger stared at him, shocked and not a little upset, although he hid it well. “Godspeed, my lord,” he said. Chartley nodded and rode out of the dockyard at a brisk pace. There was clearly more going on here than Chartley described. Either his feelings for Bertie were unresolved, and quite strong, such that he was willing to travel around the world to save him, or he was involved in whatever scheme Bertie had launched. No matter which choice it was, it boded ill for Granger, and it boded even worse for Chartley’s relationship with Granger.

It was a melancholy George Granger that rode out of the dockyard. He’d lost a ship and gained a ship, or at least he would as soon as his orders arrived, but he’d also lost Chartley, the only real friend he had left in all of England.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?” Winkler asked.

“I believe you just did,” Granger noted, forcing himself to crack a joke.

“Yes, sir. Where are we headed?”

“You are asking about my orders, Winkler?” Granger asked, raising an eyebrow. This was highly unusual, and not a little out of line.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Winkler said, recognizing he’d overstepped his bounds. But there was something clearly bothering the young man.

“I am ordered to the Indies. It will be a trip there and back, but that will necessitate being gone for at least a year,” Granger relented, telling Winkler what he wanted to know.

“Will you be taking the old crew with you, sir?” He’d said ‘you’, not ‘us,’ which told Granger what his dilemma was.

“If they are so inclined to go. I will not force them.” Granger studied him closely. “Are you considering remaining ashore?”

“I don’t know, sir,” he answered, conflicted. “You’ve gotten us a fair amount of prize money, and Jeffers was talking about staying ashore for a bit to enjoy the land. I wouldn’t want to do that if it meant I was being disloyal to you, sir.”

Another blow to his world, but Granger dealt with it with his normal, calm demeanor. “Winkler, I would not want Jeffers to go if he did not want to, and I would understand if you wanted to stay here with him.”

“I’m sorry sir,” he apologized again. “I really haven’t even had much of a chance to talk to him about it, and I didn’t want to without consulting you first.”

“I think it is important to be with the one you love,” Granger said, and it was a true testament to his self-control that he didn’t grimace as he said that, that he didn’t reveal that he had little reason to be in England.

“Thank you, sir,” Winkler said.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Phillips said. Granger had really forgotten that Phillips was with them, and felt bad for talking about Winkler’s love life in front of him. Winkler looked horrified, but Phillips simply glared at Winkler, giving him a look of contempt, a look that all but accused Winkler of being disloyal to Granger.

“What is it?” Granger asked, but not unkindly.

“I’ve served gentlemen before, sir. I’d be happy to take care of you, if that met with your approval.” It was funny to watch Winkler’s reaction. He’d suddenly turned green with envy, as if he resented Phillips stepping in to fill the role he’d just discussed vacating. It made him seem quite dispensable.

“That is very flattering, Phillips,” Granger said to him, coupling that with his most dazzling smile. “Let us see what conclusions Winkler comes to, and what decisions I ultimately make. As of right now, you are the prime candidate to replace him, should that be required.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said. Winkler was disturbed beyond words, but Granger could spare no time for his ruminations. He would have to work this through, one way or the other.

“Perhaps you should tell the captain about your past service,” Winkler said to Phillips. Phillips shot Winkler a dour look, but the damage was done, and Granger’s curiosity was aroused.

“Indeed?” Granger asked. Phillips looked as if his world had just fallen completely apart. “Phillips, I am in your debt. I promised before to let you go on your way. That is really the worst you risk at this point.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he said. “I served in the Navy for nine years, sir. I joined as a lad of ten, and have just spent the last year ashore.”

“What service have you seen?”

“I worked my way up to topman on the old Britannia, sir. I served on the Victory for a while, sir, and that’s where I first saw you, when we was off Toulon with Lord Hood.” Granger didn’t remember him, but that was no surprise. There were several hundred men on Victory, and he’d been so absorbed in his work as flag lieutenant he’d hardly gotten to know anyone on board that ship. “I got sent off on a prize, and then got transferred to the Hermione when we got back to port. I was the captain’s coxswain, sir, only Captain Pigot, sir, begging your pardon, sir, but he wasn’t quite right.”

“How was he not right?” Granger asked quite aggressively. He knew there were bad captains in the Navy, and he’d heard some things about Pigot that led him to believe that he may be one of those captains. At the same time, the Royal Navy was very much a fraternity, and captains stuck together.

“I’ve never been flogged, sir, because I’ve always done my duty and never caused any problems. Captain Pigot flogged men and enjoyed it, sir.”

“How do you know he enjoyed it?”

“He pleasured himself after floggings, sir,” he said nervously. As his coxswain, it was reasonable that Phillips would know that.

“I see,” Granger said, trying to hide his disgust. “So what happened?”

“I deserted, sir,” he said, and so monumental was that admission to him, he actually shed a tear, which he quickly wiped away.

“You were that afraid of being flogged?”

“No, sir, and I wasn’t flogged anyway. It was just hard seeing my mates get flogged. There was one who was a close friend, sir, and Captain Pigot had him flogged so bad he died a few days later. I couldn’t bear that, sir.”

“Hermione is in the Caribbean, is she not?” Granger asked.

“Yes, sir. I ran in Jamaica and caught passage home on a merchant brig. I was spotted when I went aboard Belvidera.”

“Some of the men knew him from the days off Toulon, sir,” Winkler added.

“That’s why I took the position working for Lady Blankford, sir,” he said, referring to Davina. “I figured that if I stayed out of the Navy, I’d be able to hide. But one of the other men recognized me and told her. She told me that if I ever defied her, she’d have me hanged for it.”

“She is a most charming woman,” Granger said sarcastically. He rode on in silence, thinking of this latest dilemma. There was more here than Phillips was saying, but he really didn’t need to continue to try and pry it out of him. The man who was flogged to death was undoubtedly his lover. Granger wondered how he would react if one of the men he’d loved would have been subject to unjustified abuse. He smiled to himself as he thought of the men in his life now. With the exception of Calvert, Granger was almost prepared to enjoy it. But he knew that these people were dealing with issues that did not involve him. He knew that Cavendish loved him, but was trapped. He knew that Arthur did too, even though his mind had clearly become unhinged. He knew that he was important to Kerry and Chartley, even if he wasn’t the most important person to them. And if any one of them had been maliciously harmed, he’d be enraged.

“I’ll understand if you feel that you have to bring me to justice, sir,” Phillips said.

“I’m not sure what justice is in your case, Phillips. I think that as far as I am concerned, you have atoned for your sins. We will endeavor to have you keep a low profile until we sail, and then once we are at sea, this will not be an issue.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said gratefully. Granger saw Winkler looking quite pleased. He wasn’t really trying to hurt Phillips, but he had pledged to be honest and open with Granger.

“I demand complete and unquestioning loyalty from those who serve me personally,” Granger said. “That is why Winkler raised this issue. He did not do it to harm you.”

Phillips looked at Winkler appraisingly and nodded. “I understand, sir.” He winked at Winkler and Granger saw Winkler blush. They arrived at the gates to Brentwood and turned down the lane and began the long ride to the house. It was a truly grand estate.

They rode up to the massive home, pulling up their horses in the front, where footmen dashed out to grab the reins from Granger. “Welcome home, Sir George,” one of them said.

“Thank you,” Granger said politely, and then strode to the front door. Hudson, the butler, greeted him formally and directed him to the drawing room. He walked through the magnificent rooms on the ground floor, wondering at all the money Caroline had spent to make them seem so tasteful, until he got to the drawing room. He looked in and saw Caroline there, looking out the window with a firm expression on her face. Granger knew that look; it was the one she got when she’d labored hard over something and come to a resolution.

She must have sensed him looking at her, as she turned to the door and smiled broadly, and then the smile faded nervously as she remembered all the underlying problems between them. “George! I am so glad you are here! Welcome!”

“It is good to see you,” he said, rushing forward to meet her in the middle of the room.

“I was worried that you would not come out to see me, that you were that vexed at me.”

“I told you I would come to see you,” Granger reminded her. “I have been busy.”

“I hope these past few days have been better than when you first got home,” she said.

“They have not been,” he told her.

“Oh no. What has happened?”

He took her into his arms and kissed her lovingly. “Things are better now that I am here with you.” They broke off their kiss and Granger looked beyond her, to the beautiful gardens. The spring flowers had begun to bloom, making the grounds spring to life. It was a gorgeous day, and that had made for a great ride out here. “Walk with me in these wonderful gardens you have created.”

“I fear I merely hired the people and paid them with your money,” she joked.

“I have so much to tell you,” he said. “Not much of it is pleasant.”

“But you must tell me anyway.”

“I rode to Portsmouth the day after you left. You will never guess who I slept with.”

“Lord Spencer?” she joked.

He laughed. “He is certainly attractive enough,” Granger teased. Spencer was attractive, but mostly due to his intellect and cultured manners. “I slept with Davina.”

She looked at him, fury rising so quickly it showed in her cheeks. “How could you, George?!”

“It was not voluntary.”

“Explain that,” she demanded, so angry she was poised to explode.

He told her how he’d been invited to visit Freddie, and how he and Chartley had been assaulted, and how he’d been tied up. He showed her his rope burns and his bump to validate his story, just as he’d done with his father, and explained what they’d done to him.

“How could they do such a thing? I will destroy that woman. I will personally run her through with a blade.”

Granger laughed at that, at the vision of Caroline and Davina sword fighting, but Caroline saw no humor in it. “Would you like to know why she did it?”

“Because she wanted to die, and knew I would kill her for this,” Caroline said emphatically. Granger chose to chuckle at her comment as he persisted in his effort to lighten things up.

“Because she and Freddie do not have sex, and she wanted to produce an heir with Granger blood.”

“I don’t blame Freddie for not having sex with her.”

“He was incapable.” Granger explained that his problem was phimosis, and what that was. “Dr. Jackson operated on him, but I do not know if that cured his problem.”

“That still does not give her the right to assault you,” she declared. Granger agreed with her, even while he was somewhat surprised that he didn’t feel all that much rage toward her or Freddie. They were such dysfunctional people, and so twisted, that was almost punishment enough.

“Well, I did get to strike back in a few ways. When I saw that she was the one I was having sex with, I vomited on her.” Caroline laughed at that, almost uncontrollably.

“That is almost worth it.”

“And I broke up her household, and had all of her footmen pressed, all except one, who now works for me.”

“That is dangerous, George. What if his loyalties are conflicted?” Now she was treating him like a simpleton, like someone who was completely unable to assess another person’s character.

Granger gave her a steely look. “I think it is inappropriate for you to question my judgment.”

“I’m sorry George, but you don’t always see the schemes and plans that people try to hatch.” She was dismissing him as if he were an idiot.

“And you, Caroline, don’t seem to be overly sensitive to what people are seeing and saying.” He was angry with her again. His feelings toward his wife were like a ship fighting waves in an Atlantic storm, up and down, up and down.

“Just because your father thinks I’m having an affair…”

“My father, and most of the people at court, and the Prince of Wales,” Granger added.

“You told the Prince of Wales?” She blinked at him, stunned.

“After I met with the King.”

She sat on a bench and just looked off into the woods, angry and despondent. “I can’t believe you did that, George. I thought we agreed to wait until the baby was born.” That really made him mad.

“No, that’s what Gloucester wanted to do. I’m under no obligation to plan my life around his whims. In the meantime, I’m being shipped halfway across the world, so you won’t have to worry about having me around much longer. I’m leaving in a month or so, and then I’ll be gone for a year at least. You can resume your affair, unhindered by my presence.”

She stared at him, stunned, and just shook her head slowly. “No. No. This can’t be.”

He was angry with her, but this wasn’t her fault. “At least you don’t have to feel guilty about that. It is more Bertie’s doing than yours. I’m not even sure if Gloucester had a hand in it.”

“Why is this Bertie’s doing?”

“He’s being recalled, and they’re sending me out to get him.”

“It is so dangerous, and you will be gone so long,” she said, even as she kept shaking her head. “There has to be a way to stop this.”

“There is not. And you cannot help me, even if there were.”

“Why can’t I help you?” she asked.

“The King has forbidden you to appear at Court until after you have given birth,” Granger decreed. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy clipping her wings just a little bit, knowing that it would make it harder for her to see Gloucester. “He said it would please him if you remained at Brentwood as much as possible.”

“I’ve been banished?” she demanded.

“I suspect you can still go to London from time to time, but if you do, you risk incurring his wrath.”

“I suppose the Prince banished me from Carleton House as well? I might as well be a pariah.”

“The Prince of Wales did not banish you from Carleton House. He did note that your affair was not very discreet, and was not surprised at your condition.” He said this with considerable irritation in his voice. “We did not talk that much about you.”

“Oh, and what did you talk about?”

“Your boyfriend,” Granger said sarcastically. “I asked the Prince to please explain to him the proper way to screw another man’s wife. I asked him to teach Gloucester some common decency.” He saw the conflict in her face, the conflict between supporting her husband or her lover.

“What did you ask him to do?”

“I asked that Gloucester treat me with kindness and respect, instead of smirking at me, as if to gloat that he is sleeping with my wife.”

“He doesn’t do that!” That really enraged Granger, that she would defend Gloucester to his face.

“He most certainly does,” Granger said. “And it is inexcusable. And I asked that he not call on my wife to have sex with her when I am out running errands and making calls. He does do that, or have you forgotten?”

She said nothing, just looked down guiltily. “And what did the Prince say?”

“He said he would speak to him and that if Gloucester’s behavior doesn’t improve, he will try something more drastic. So we shall see.” He paused and took a breath, trying to regain his composure. “I also asked him to watch out for my children, including the one in your womb, since I will be away for so long. He agreed most gracefully.”

“That was nice of him,” she said insincerely. “So the King hates me, and the Prince thinks I’m a slut.”

“No, the King is angry with you, the Prince of Wales thinks Gloucester has been boorish, and society thinks you’re a slut,” Granger corrected.

She digested that. “And what do you think?”

“I think that you have sorely tested my love. I think that you have blithely thrown away your position and reputation, and the only real excuse you have is that you were unaware that you were doing it. That shows remarkably bad judgment. I think that when I really needed you, when I needed you to be there for me, you weren’t. And quite honestly, when I was offered a new ship, and this mission, I accepted it gladly, happy to get away from all of this. You have not given me much to return home to.” If he had struck her, he could not have made a greater impact than his words did.

“I cannot believe this has happened. I cannot believe it has come to this.”

“Yet it has,” he said to her coldly. He knew he was being callous, that he was being possibly even cruel, but he didn’t think she really understood what she had done, what had happened, and what she had risked, until this very moment. “Even if you do not love me, even if you do not want me as a partner, I know that you care about your position and your reputation. I am hoping that you will manage those better in the future.”

Tears flowed down her face. “You are wrong, George. I do love you. This is not about love, this is about loneliness.”

“No. It was about loneliness when I was gone. Now that I am home, it is about something else. Whether that is love, whether you love Gloucester, only you know, and even if you try to tell me you do not, I will not believe you.” He stood up and strolled back to the house, leaving her on the bench to contemplate their future. He was thirsty, and went straight for the bar to pour himself some whiskey, mixed with just a dash of water. He poured a drink for Caroline and went to take it out to her, but found that she was just coming back inside.

“I do not know what to say to you, but I must say something to try and save our marriage,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Then I will explain it to you, and I will tell you what to do,” Granger said firmly, handing her a drink. “You must break off this affair with Gloucester. It has created too great a scandal to go on. If you don’t, he will, because he will be forced to. You must take the initiative, or you will appear to be the one who was rejected.”

She struggled with that internally. Granger could see her eyes flit around as her mind grappled with what he was saying. “You are right. I will do it.”

“Good,” he said, to validate her. “Then the next time you have an affair, you must consult with some ladies who have had them. I would suggest Lady Jersey. Getting on her good side would not be a bad thing. Find out how to do it right, so you and your husband do not look like fools.”

“That is more good advice,” she said, all but surrendering. “But what of our marriage?”

“The King said that affairs will destroy a marriage. I told him I was confident that ours would survive.”

“You told him that?”

“I did. I said that you had been a remarkable wife, and you’d looked after our affairs and interests superbly. I told him that you’d paid attention to me when I came home, and that I loved you and forgave you.”

She looked at him in total shock, and then got a smile on her face, the coquettish smile she’d used to lure him into bed when she chose him as her husband. “So you do love me, and you do forgive me?”

“I did not tell you that,” he said, mirroring her mood.

“But you would not lie to His Majesty.”

“That is correct,” he said. “Then I guess it must be true. I guess I must still love you, and I guess I must forgive you.”

“I am sorry, George. And I do love you, more than anything.”

Their conversation had shattered her defenses, and she stood there before him, an open book, betrayed by her eyes. It was as if he could look in them and read her mind. She finally got it. She finally understood what he’d been trying to explain to her. She comprehended how much damage she’d done to her own reputation, to his reputation, and to their family. And she wouldn’t do that again. “I love you too.”

“I promise that I will do better while you are gone, and that I will work to make my reputation better. I want you to know that next time you come home, you’ll have something to look forward to.”

Granger smiled at her, then raised an eyebrow. She giggled at his non-verbal suggestion, and followed him up to their room, where they made love to seal their reconciliation. It was a melodic thing, with their bodies moving in rhythm to their moods, sometimes fucking hard and angry, and at other times making love slowly and lovingly. When they climaxed, they climaxed together, a symbol, perhaps, of their recommitment to each other. Granger lay in bed, spent from his orgasm, with a huge smile on his face.

“You seem happy,” she teased.

“I feel as if I have my partner back,” he told her. And for the first time since his return to England, George Granger was not just happy, he was content.