The Gunroom - 8. Chapter 8

December 19, 1791

The City of London came into view as they topped a hill. It was evening now, so the flickering light of all the candles seemed to make the city pulse. “Bridgemont House, postie,” Granger said to the driver.

The coach rocketed into London then slowed as the streets narrowed, heading more slowly to Westminster, and then to Mayfair. The coach drove up to a large home on Grosvenor Square and stopped with a lot of noise and bustle. The door flew open and footmen rushed forward to remove their chests and baggage and help them out of the coach.

“Welcome home, Mr. Granger,” said Franklin, the butler. They moved through the door into the ornate entry. There was a large curving staircase that led to the first floor, while the walls were decorated in ornate wallpaper that had, as its main color, Bridgemont Blue. Travers thought there was more gold leaf in this one room than on all the ships in the Channel Fleet

“It's nice to see you Franklin,” Granger said. “This is Lieutenant John Travers and Joshua Winkler. Lieutenant Travers can room with me, while I have engaged Winkler as my valet.”

“Very good sir.” Franklin quietly issued instructions to the footmen and then turned back to us. “Your parents are both in residence. They will be most anxious to see you, if you will follow me.” He paused and turned to Winkler. “Winkler, I'll take you to your quarters and get you outfitted. Wait here.” Winkler looked at me nervously.

“Franklin, I'll need to see you about Winkler after I've seen my parents.”

“Certainly sir.” He led them to a drawing room, decorated in a similar way as the foyer, with towering ceilings and a huge fire roaring in the fireplace.

“Darling, how wonderful that you are home for Christmas,” Lady Bridgemont said, rising to greet her youngest son. “We never dreamed you'd make it back so soon.”

“Thank you Mother. It's wonderful to be home. Mother, this is Lieutenant Travers, my mentor.” Travers blanched at that. Mentor? But he recovered fast enough.

Travers bowed gracefully, and took her hand and pretended to kiss it in the fashion. “It's a pleasure to meet your ladyship.”

“The pleasure is all mine Mr. Travers. Welcome to our home. You must treat it as your own.” The Countess of Bridgemont had a smooth manner, a sleekness that one only found in the highest levels of society.

Then the Earl was up and hobbling over. “George, good to see you. I saved the article on your rescue in the Mediterranean. Nice piece of work. I'm proud of you.”

Granger beamed, relishing this rare praise from his father. “Thank you Father. I only did what anyone would have done.” He gave his father a perfunctory hug which both of them found uncomfortable.

Then the Earl turned to Travers. “Ah yes, Lieutenant Travers. I remember the scandal that your father caused in the last war. The King was apoplectic. I'll take you to meet him and you can show him you're much better than that.”

Travers cringed at the mention of his father. “Thank you my lord. It's not easy to have a traitor for a father.”

“Well, we'll see if we can't give you a fighting chance anyway.” The Earl said gently. “And now a drink.” He poured them all some sherry. He raised his glass in a toast. “To homecomings.”

“Do you really think the King will ever forgive my family, my lord?” Travers asked earnestly.

“I think so. He's really a good chap. Besides, your French friend has already been raving about the two of you. Damned useful to me too. I was buying a piece of land from the crown and after that article about you George, the price miraculously dropped.” He laughed, seeming to think that Granger had saved those men just so he could get a better real estate deal. Granger rolled his eyes at Travers.

“You two must be exhausted. I will have Franklin show you to your rooms.” the Countess said.

“Thank you Mother. Mr. Travers is going to stay with me. After being confined on a ship with people all about, being alone would be maddening.”

“Of course. That's entirely up to you. Good night gentlemen.”

“Good night your ladyship, your lordship,” Travers said, bowing again, and Franklin miraculously appeared to lead them off.

“Franklin, I want the doctor over here tomorrow morning to fix Winkler's leg. He took a splinter in his leg in battle. A brave lad.” Travers watched Granger give these directives and it was easy to see him as the Captain of his own ship.

“Yes sir. We'll get him here first thing.”

“Thank you Franklin.” They climbed the stairs to the first floor, and then took a less ostentatious set in the back of the house up to the second floor. The staff had set up an extra bed in the room. That was a waste of energy, Granger thought with a smile. And then they were alone.

Granger moved up to Travers and wrapped his arms around him. “I'm so glad you're here with me.”

“I'm glad too,” Travers said. Granger ran his hands up Travers’ chest, under his coat, and stopped to play with his nipples, getting a slight moan.

“I need to feel you inside me,” Granger said. Travers looked down at Granger’s blue eyes fired with desire, his voice deep for a lad his age and so husky and sensual it was enough to drive any man or woman into a frenzy of lust. They tore off their clothes quickly, letting them fall on the floor, until they were naked and they were in bed, with Granger on his elbows and knees, and Travers moving to enter him.

“I feel complete only when you're inside me,” he said to Travers.

“I love you. I love you with all my heart,” Travers said. Granger felt his heart swell and it fueled his desire, as Travers pounded his willing ass, ultimately bringing them both to a spectacular orgasm.

“How about if we fuck in this bed, and sleep in that one,” Granger said playfully as he pulled Travers under the covers and snuggled up to him.

“I don't care where we fuck, as long as we fuck,” Travers joked. “Your father said he's going to take me to see the King. Is he serious?”

“Of course. You brought your best uniform right?” Granger said cheerfully.

“I did. I'm not sure if it's up for Court though,” Travers said nervously.

“Then we'll get you a new one.”

“George, I can't let you buy me things all the time,” Travers said.

“Yes you can,” Granger said, and reached down and stroked Travers’ limp dick, playing with it. “I love it when it's like this too. It's so fun to play with.” He sensed Travers’ mood and looked up at him seriously. “You need to make a good impression if you're to put this thing with your father behind you. You helped me out, you still do. Let me help you.” Granger felt Travers’ cock start to harden and smiled, then climbed on top of him and took him inside his ass once again.

December 21, 1791

Granger smiled at Travers, admiring how well he looked in the new uniform coat the tailor had worked so hard to make. They mounted the steps to the carriage, followed by the Earl. “You two turn out nicely,” the old man said.

“Thank you my lord,” said Travers. The carriage ride was brief, taking them to St. James Palace. The Earl disembarked first, followed by Granger and Travers, and led them into the palace like ducklings following their mother. They reached the audience room where a Chamberlain stepped up to ask their names. He already knew the Earl, of course.

The Chamberlain pounded his staff on the floor and announced in a loud, baritone voice: “The Right Honorable Earl of Bridgemont, the Honorable George Granger, and Lieutenant John Travers.” There were several people there who barely noticed their arrival. Granger knew that was normal. They'd heard, they just didn't react. He felt Travers close to him, nervous in this new and foreign world.

The Earl led them to the throne, where the King sat, looking slightly bored. He'd almost lost his throne a few years ago when he'd gone mad, but he seemed sharp enough today. They bowed as they approached the throne, and then again once they reached it.

“We are pleased to see our friend the Earl,” the King said.

“Thank you your Majesty,” said the Earl, bowing again.

“And your son. You are back from the navy already Mr. Granger?”

“Yes your Majesty. My ship is in for a refit.”

“We read of your exploits. We are pleased.”

“I thank your Majesty,” Granger said.

“Your Majesty, this is Lieutenant John Travers. He serves with my son on one of your Majesty's frigates.”

The King looked at Travers, an unkind look, and Travers feared he'd be arrested on the spot. “We are aware of your father's betrayal,” he said.

“I carry that burden with me daily, your Majesty, but I am determined to serve your Majesty loyally, with all of my ability, to try to redeem my family name.” Travers spoke nervously but effectively. The King studied him carefully, couldn't help but see the earnestness in his eyes, and simply nodded. They bowed again and backed away from the throne carefully, making sure they didn't commit the sin of turning one’s back on royalty.

“Well done young man,” said the Earl. “I think you impressed him.”

“Thank you my lord,” said Travers, amazed that Lord Bridgemont had come to that conclusion.

They meandered over to a table laden with food and Granger almost bumped into an officer wearing a blue uniform like his own, only it had much more gold on it. Granger doffed his hat deferentially, but he didn't recognize the man until he turned around. It was Lord Hood.

“Good afternoon my lord,” Granger said smoothly. “I don't know if you remember me, we met last summer at Carlton House. I'm George Granger.”

“Ah yes, Granger. You're Bridgemont's son, the one who went swimming in the Mediterranean. Good job there.” He looked to Travers behind Granger, who stepped up smartly.

“John Travers my lord.”

Hood smiled. “Another one of Sir Evelyn's men eh? What, are you here to lobby for him? More spars, more cordage?” He laughed at his own joke and moved on.

“Don't let him bother you gentlemen. Hood's in rare form today.” Granger turned and there was Lord Howe.

“Well we did need an extra keg of pitch my lord,” Travers said, joking. Howe laughed.

“Chatham, these boys from Barracuda say they need more pitch,” Howe said to his colleague, who just happened to be First Lord of the Admiralty.

“Well tell them if they'd stop shooting up French ships when we're at peace they'd have plenty,” Chatham growled. “You two had better dodge the diplomats when you see them. They'll be out for your hides.”

“Yes my lord,” Travers and Granger said in unison. Granger felt a presence behind him, a familiar one, and knew it was his father.

“Your son's as bad as you Bridgemont, causing all kinds of problems,” Chatham said.

“If he's causing you problems, he's doing his job,” Bridgemont replied, and they both laughed. They left after that, having made their appearance.

They were in the carriage again, even though it was close enough to walk to Carlton House. Arriving on foot was something inconceivable.

“So will this be the same thing?” Travers asked.

Granger chuckled. “Not even close. The Prince of Wales is nothing like his father. The King is a tightwad, prim and proper, a family man, while the Prince is a rake. You must make sure that you pay extra attention to the two women in his life.”

“The Princess of Wales?” Travers asked.

Granger laughed again. “No, he's not married yet. Rumor has it that when his debts get so high there's no hope, he'll find a wife and that will be his reward, to have his creditors paid off.” Granger paused. “Mrs. Fitzherbert, whom he secretly married, and the Countess of Jersey. Those are the women who run his life.” Travers nodded, completely adrift in high politics.

They made their way into Carlton House, where they were announced again. Granger knew a lot more people here, the younger set, so it took them a while to make their way to the Prince. When they got there, they bowed as they had for the King.

“Granger, back so soon?” The Prince asked.

“Yes your Royal Highness. We're in for a quick refit,” Granger said. “This is Lieutenant Travers.”

Travers bowed. “Your Royal Highness,” he said.

“I heard about your little encounter with that French frigate. Dished her up in less than an hour. That's good work.”

“Thank you sir,” Granger said. “Sir Evelyn said you were his inspiration, that he only did what you would have done.” Travers nodded in agreement. Granger knew that the Prince was insecure for some reason, and thrived on flattery.

“Well that's damned nice of Sir Evelyn. Good chap he is. He needs to come play Hazard with me sometime, tell him that won't you.”

“Yes sir,” said Travers. They worked the crowd after that, meeting all sorts of people in Travers' case, seeing them again in Granger's.

“Georgie, good to see you old boy,” said a voice to the side of him. Granger looked up to see his brother Bertie. They embraced, though not warmly. Granger noticed that Bertie was turned out well, his uniform looking perfect, even though he was already drunk and there was a disreputable looking woman hanging on him.

“I was hoping to run into you Bertie. This is Lieutenant Travers,” Granger said, introducing them. “This is my brother Albert.” Travers doffed his hat politely.

“And this is...” Bertie said, trying to introduce us to the “lady” with him. “What's your name again sweetheart?”

She smacked him playfully. “Alice. My name is Alice.” She leered at Travers, pissing off both of the Granger men and making Travers uncomfortable.

“Will you be at Bridgemont for Christmas?” Granger asked.

“Not sure the Earl wants to see me Georgie. I'm a bit expensive.” Then he cackled.

“Well if not, I'll try to look you up before we leave again,” Granger said, knowing that he wouldn't. He and Bertie had never been close, and his current lifestyle had only made Granger less willing to be around him.

“Don't bother. He won't be sober enough to remember anyway,” came a severe voice from behind Granger. His other brother, Freddie. Granger turned and gave him a warm hug. He and Freddie had always gotten on. Probably because Granger had done nothing to whittle away Freddie's inheritance.

“Good to see you Freddie,” Granger said. “This is my brother, Lord Blankford,” Granger said to Travers. “This is my senior officer and mentor, Lieutenant John Travers,” he countered, completing the introduction.

“A pleasure to meet you my lord,” said Travers with another bow.

Granger took a good look at Freddie. He was dressed in a Bridgemont Blue suit, perfectly tailored, with tan pants and a tan vest. Unlike Granger and Bertie, who were blonds, Freddie had light brown hair, which matched his more severe personality.

“I'm surprised to see you here Freddie,” Bertie said. “People usually come here to have fun, and we know you don't know how to do that.”

“Some of us make money, some of us piss it away,” Freddie said.

“And if Mother finds out you were quarreling at Carlton House, I'll end up as the sole heir,” Granger said, cooling the argument as usual.

“Quite right George,” Freddie said. “I'll see you at Bridgemont. And hopefully you as well Lieutenant. It was a pleasure to meet you.” He turned on his heel and left before either of them could respond.

“Got a stick up his ass,” Bertie said.

“I'd like to have a dick up mine,” Granger whispered into Travers’ ear. They all laughed for different reasons, but Granger and Travers left Carlton House with undue haste after that, anxious to get home and in bed.

“So your brother is a peer as well?” Travers asked when they were in the carriage. Granger tried not to give him an odd look. How could someone live in this country and not understand how that worked?

“No, he's not a peer. My father is the peer. But as the eldest son of an Earl, Freddie gets to use a courtesy title. In this case, the Viscount of Blankford.”

Travers stared at him. “But you don't get one?”

Granger smiled. “No, and isn't that good? You'd have to call me “my lord” then.” They chuckled for a second. “As a younger son, I'm addressed as the “Honorable” but I don't get a title. Now if my father could get himself jumped up to a Marquess, then I'd become Lord George Granger.”

“Is he working on that?” Travers asked naively.

“I don't think that's his goal. Right now he's trying to buy Derbyshire, and he's got a goodly amount in industries like John Company.” Granger said matter-of-factly.

“The whole county?” Travers asked.

“I said trying. He won't get there though. Just as well.”

“And he owns shares in the East India Company?”

Granger smiled. “Last time he talked about it. He was irritated with the government intervention in the company's affairs.” They were home now, and were able to make a relatively quiet entry. “Before we go to bed, I want to check on Winkler.”

They headed to the back of the house and out the back door to the Mews. There was a large stable there, and above the stable was where most of the servants lived. One of the footmen intercepted him as he was walking up the stairs.

“Mr. Granger sir. You shouldn't be back here. What can I get you sir?”

Granger pushed past him. “I'm here to check on Winkler.” They found him in a room, nice and tidy. Granger was proud of the way that his father looked after the staff and tenants. Many families didn't take such pains. “How are you doing Winkler?”

“Better sir. That doctor came over and cut me open again. Gave me something to make it not hurt this time though. He dug around and got a bunch of wood fragments out.” Winkler pulled out a paper with a bunch of bloody shards of wood to show him. “He says I ought to heal up now. I can't thank you enough sir.”

“Bah. You're a good lad. Get better and you can go back to sea with me, if you want to that is.”

“Yes sir,” Winkler said with a smile.

“He worships you,” Travers said as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “I know how he feels.” Then they were in their room and their clothes were off, and they were linked again, linked with Travers inside Granger, and Granger loving every minute of it.

Christmas Day, 1791

“I'm so sad that we couldn't get to Bridgemont,” the Countess said morosely. “It's so lovely at this time of year, and everyone will miss us.”

Travers stared at her oddly. In his mind, he couldn't fathom how the tenants and retainers of the Earl would miss him, considering that it was their labors that provided him with such a lavish lifestyle.

“It's alright Mother. This is actually better. With the snow, it might have taken us a long time to get there. As it is, we have to be back in Portsmouth in a week. We'd have never made it.” Granger consoled his mother, throwing the practical response to her emotional argument.

“Besides, your ladyship,” added Travers diplomatically. “It's beautiful here as well, and your people seem awfully glad that you're staying.”

She gave him a dazzling smile. “Why Mr. Travers, how wonderfully thoughtful of you to say so.” He blushed and Granger smiled. Granger knew that his mother had more charm than most people could dream of, but it was entertaining to see her in action.

They were enjoying light conversation, and the heat of the fire, when Freddie came strolling in. Travers noted that everything about him was dominant, the way he talked, the way he walked; he clearly expected to be respected and obeyed.

“George, Lieutenant,” he said, in as friendly a way as Freddie ever spoke. He was more effusive with the Countess. “Merry Christmas Mother. Lady Jersey sends her regards.”

The Countess cringed slightly, very slightly. “Please return those regards to her, but not in front of others. Things are not good between the Prince of Wales and the King again.” Granger smiled. The Bridgemonts had positioned themselves perfectly. The Earl and Countess went to Court to attend the King, while Freddie spent his time at Carlton House with the Prince of Wales, the next King, presumably.

Granger heard loud voices from an adjacent room, from his father's study, and looked at Freddie. They just shook their heads together. A few seconds later Albert came out, his face bright red with both anger and drink. “Merry fucking Christmas,” he said to them in general.

The Countess grasped her chest to feign shock. “Watch your language Bertie,” Freddie said. Bertie just grinned at him, and then approached Travers.

“You're the one whose father is a traitor. You don't belong here among honorable people.” Granger felt the blood rise to his face, the ultimate fury rising. He looked up at Travers.

“Perhaps you're right. I'll take my leave then,” Travers said, bowing gracefully. Granger was trying to decide whether to lay into Bertie or stop Travers when a booming voice filled the room.

“You're not going anywhere Lieutenant. You, on the other hand are,” the Earl said, staring right at Bertie. The Earl's voice, loud and deep, was a force to be feared. Granger had never heard his father raise his voice like that, and apparently neither had Freddie, since both of them stared at him, not in terror, but with curiosity.

“You'd throw your own son out instead of the son of a traitor?” Bertie asked defiantly. “That's rich.”

“Mr. Travers is a guest in this house and is deserving of our courtesy and hospitality. And from what I can see, despite the errors his father made, errors not of his making, he is a far better servant to the crown than you are. You will leave at once, and you will not come back.” The Earl's voice, his words, had stilled the salon. Everyone just looked at everyone else, aghast.

“So you are disowning me?” Bertie said, not believing it.

“I am. I have paid off your considerable debts, and I am done with you. You have absorbed more than your fair share of your inheritance already. You are an embarrassment to this family. I have spent my last shilling on you, and I have worried about you for the last time.” The Countess looked at the Earl, a pleading look, but his stern face told them all that he meant it.

“I'm sorry Father,” Bertie said in a panic, realizing that he pushed things too far; his cloudy mind finally clear enough for him to realize the horror of what was happening. “And I'm sorry to you as well Lieutenant. My words were uncalled for. I retract them and ask for your forgiveness.”

Travers looked at him, clearly uncomfortable, clearly wanting to be anywhere else but in that room. “Think nothing more of it,” he said.

“It is too late for that Albert,” the Earl said. “It is the same thing always. You push to the limit and beyond, and then you retreat back to the line and apologize. Never mind the damage you do on the way. I meant what I said.” He rang the bell and Franklin appeared.

“Franklin,” the Earl said, “Mr. Albert will be leaving us. Please help him into the carriage and take him back to his quarters. He won't be returning.”

“Yes my lord,” said Franklin. They all stood there silently, saying nothing. Travers, uncomfortable at being in the middle of a family drama; The Countess, clearly distraught at losing her middle son; Freddie, a look of triumph, glad to be rid of the brother that threatened to erode his inheritance and damage the family name; and Granger, still so furious at Bertie he couldn't feel sad that he was actually leaving. Franklin returned with two large footmen. “Mr. Albert, this way if you please,” he said. Albert looked around, hoping for a last minute reprieve, and when none came, he stormed out.

The Countess rose gracefully, her emotions completely in check. “We have an hour until our Christmas supper. I'm going to retire until then.” They nodded. She walked over to Travers and put her hand on his arm. “Lieutenant, I must apologize for my son's words. We are honored and pleased to have you in our home, and we will be sad when you have to leave us and return to your duties.”

Travers grinned a little, but only quickly. “Your ladyship is too kind.” She smiled at him, patted his arm, and then sailed out of the room. The Earl withdrew with her.

“It's about bloody time,” Freddie said.

“He is our brother Freddie. Doesn't it bother you that he's out in the cold, so to speak?” Granger said, his kind heart emerging.

“George, you have the heart of a saint. You'll end up getting screwed because of it.” Granger hid a grin. He was right about getting screwed. “You have not been here to see what he has done, how he has tarnished our good name. You have not heard the laughter about how he is carried out of Carlton House too drunk to walk, or how he sleeps with any whore who crosses his path. And you were not here when he reneged on a gambling debt and almost fought a duel. And you weren't here when father shelled out five thousand pounds to clear those debts up.”

“Five thousand pounds?” Granger asked. Freddie nodded. It was a prodigious amount of money. Granger just shook his head.

“I need a break as well. Will you excuse us Freddie?” Granger asked, dragging Travers with him. They said nothing until they got to their bedroom. “I'm so sorry John,” Granger said, using his Christian name since they were alone. “I'm so so sorry. I never expected to bring you into the middle of a family feud, and even worse, to have you abused in the process.”

Travers moved in and kissed him, gently at first, and then with increasing passion. “Let me make love to you,” Travers murmured into Granger's ear. “I want to be inside you.”

Granger locked the door and pulled his pants down, while Travers did the same thing. They lay on the bed on their sides, with Travers entering Granger from behind, using his hands to explore his young lover's body while he satisfied his own lust with his lover's ass. “I love you George. I love you so much it hurts,” Travers said as he moved in and out of the young man that had so captured his heart.

“I love you too,” Granger said, punctuated by moans. “I love you with all my heart.” And then they exploded in one massive orgasm.

Afterward, Travers held him in place, his dick still lodged in his ass, and moved his hand, the one that had stroked Granger to his climax and had captured his load, to his mouth. He sucked Granger's essence up noisily, making Granger giggle. “I love how you taste,” he said as he stroked Granger's chest. “You know, despite that little scene downstairs, this is the best Christmas of my life.”

Granger pushed back into him, trying to get closer still. “Merry Christmas John.”