HMS Belvidera - 28. Chapter 28

February, 1796

Carlton House was glittering as it always was, Granger noted as he strode confidently up the stairs in his new dress uniform. Caroline was right. This one fit him so much better.

“Captain the Honorable George Granger!” boomed the Chamberlain, as always, and as always, no one seemed to care at all. Granger made his way through the assembled courtiers, exchanging greetings as he went, until he found the Prince of Wales at his usual spot, this time playing Faro.

“Granger! I heard you were back! You even went to visit my brother before you came to see me!” The Prince said this in a joking manner, but Granger knew that sometimes hid his considerable insecurities.

“I must beg Your Royal Highness’ pardon,” Granger said. “I fear my uniforms were ill-fitting, and I wanted to be at my sartorial best before I called on you.”

The Prince laughed uproariously at that. “You hear that Brummell? You’ve given me such a reputation for harboring dandies that young men won’t come call on me without buying new clothes first.” Granger studied this man who was so talked about, the fashion god of the Prince’s sect.

“I should think that is as it should be, Your Royal Highness,” he said to the Prince, then turned to Granger. “And I must say, Captain that you are quite well turned out.”

“Now that’s high praise, coming from Brummell,” the Prince joked.

“I must thank you,” Granger said, bowing to Brummell as he smiled. He allowed his eyes to flirt with Brummell just a bit, and was almost surprised to see him respond in kind. Granger noted his foppish mannerisms that did nothing to diminish his handsome looks or his impeccable attire. He chatted with the Prince and his crowd, stealing looks at Brummell from time to time and finding that Brummell was looking at him almost as much.

Granger made to move away from the crowd around the Prince, as he wanted to talk to some of the other people there, when Brummell intercepted him on the fringes. “The baths you’ve had installed in your townhome and in Brentwood are the talk of the town.”

Granger laughed gracefully. “I didn’t realize I’d given people something to gossip about. After months at sea, there’s nothing more precious than fresh water. It leaches the salt out of my skin.”

“Well it sounds marvelous,” he said.

“You must stop by and sample them,” Granger said.

“You are inviting me to call on you?” Brummell asked with raised eyebrows.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” Granger said, now blatantly flirting.

“I suspect that is better served as my line,” he said, making them both laugh. He returned to the Prince’s circle while Granger wandered over to see the Duke of Portland.

“Granger,” the Duke said somewhat coldly.

“Your Grace,” Granger said. “How is your son doing?”

“Well you brought him back maimed, but he seems to be recovering,” the Duke said, irritated. It never dawned on Granger that the Duke would blame him for Cavendish’s amputation.

“And for that I am truly sorry, Your Grace. Your son is the brightest young officer I have encountered, and certainly one of the bravest. Without a leg he is still more of a man than most people in this room,” Granger said sincerely.

The Duke mellowed. “I know it’s not your fault Granger. It’s hard to see your progeny missing their appendages.”

“I told him when he left the ship that when he recovers, I would welcome him back aboard without hesitation,” Granger said.

“Even without his leg?” the Duke asked.

“Yes, Your Grace. Even without his leg he is worth ten men who have theirs,” Granger said. “If he chooses to stay ashore, I hope Your Grace will find him something to do that fully utilizes his talents.”

“I’ll keep that in mind Granger,” he said. He made to move away but Granger stopped him.

“Is he staying here in town? I wanted to call on him.”

“I fear that to do that Granger, you’ll have to travel to Bulstrode,” the Duke said. Then with that, he moved on. Bulstrode was the Duke’s country house, not far outside London in Buckinghamshire.

“I heard you were back in town,” a familiar voice said from behind him. Granger turned around abruptly.

“Arthur! How smashing to see you!” Granger said effusively. “I had hoped to run into you!” Arthur Teasdale looked a bit older and a bit more drawn, as if being uptight and stressed out was turning him into an old man prematurely.

“Indeed?” Arthur asked petulantly.

“Do not be cranky,” Granger chided. “You will spoil my joy at seeing you again! I have been busy getting ready to go to sea again.”

“I’m sorry George,” Arthur said, relenting. He really was much too insecure and much too demanding. “Have you been here long?”

“As a matter of fact, I was just leaving. Perhaps you would like a ride home?” Granger asked.

“That would be splendid,” Arthur said. They left the palace and climbed into Granger’s carriage. Granger pulled the shades closed, and pulled Arthur to him. Arthur embraced him, clinging to him like a drowning man clings to a raft, and it was all Granger could do to peel him away long enough to turn him around and fuck him.

“Thank you George,” he said when they were through. “Being with you is always like a breath of fresh air.”

“You seem stressed Arthur, possibly even disturbed. What is bothering you?” Granger asked with genuine concern.

“I let politics rule me, and sometimes I let men rule me. Neither one is a good thing,” he said sadly.

“I think you have the ability to rule both of them. It is only you who hold yourself back,” Granger said honestly.

“That’s kind of you to say,” Arthur said dubiously.

“It is the truth,” Granger asserted, and so strongly, he could see the impact of his words on Arthur. “Perhaps you should leave London for a time and contemplate that.”

“Perhaps I should,” he said, even though they both knew he wouldn’t. Granger dropped him off at his residence and drove home, feeling mildly disturbed. He made a mental note to ask Caroline to watch after him.

Granger let the horse break into a full canter, jubilant at the feeling of being on horseback again, of riding after all these months at sea. The horse, a spirited stallion, seemed to sense his mood, and tore down the road with a zeal Granger hadn’t expected. He’d had to rein the horse in to avoid knocking over a farmer’s cart near Northolt and had gotten some angry jeers for his efforts, and he’d nearly trampled an elderly woman who seemed oblivious to traffic on the road in Denham. Despite that, the stallion had taken him the twenty miles to Bulstrode House in just over two hours.

Granger reined in the horse to a trot as he entered the courtyard. A groom miraculously appeared to take the horse from him, leaving Granger to mount the steps to the front entrance, mindful of the mud splattered on his white stockings. A footman opened the door and ushered him into the large hall with its massive staircase, but before he could pause to appreciate the true beauty of the place, a man, clearly the butler, appeared in front of him. “I am here to see Lord Frederick Cavendish,” Granger said.

“His lordship is indisposed and is not receiving any visitors, sir,” the butler said with a stuffy air.

“Please tell him that Captain George Granger is here to see him,” Granger ordered. He saw the butler start to argue but then think better of it.

“One moment, sir,” he said, and walked slowly out of the room toward the drawing room. Granger thought it unlikely Freddie would be there; the butler was just going off to make a show of announcing him. He was considering his options when he looked up the staircase and saw a familiar face: Miguel. Miguel motioned frantically for Granger to come up the stairs and follow him, so without waiting a moment, Granger ran up the stairs. He reached the top and was following Miguel into a bedroom when he heard the butler call after him. “Sir, sir! You can’t go up there!”

Granger ignored him and followed Miguel into the bedroom, and there was Cavendish, sprawled naked on the bed on his stomach, a sponge, towels, and a basin of fresh water arrayed by his bedside. “George! You’re here!” Cavendish said. Granger moved over and sat next to him, and threw a towel over his ass when he heard the door open behind him.

“What is it Mason?” Cavendish snapped.

“You’re not to receive visitors, my lord,” the butler said.

“I will receive whomever I choose,” Cavendish said firmly. “You will not turn people away.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, almost a whine, “but I have strict orders from Her Grace not to let anyone see you.”

“When my mother returns, you will send her in to see me,” Cavendish said, clearly furious. “Until then, you will not interfere in my affairs.”

“Yes, my lord,” the butler said, abashed.

“I am not to be disturbed for any reason,” Cavendish added. Mason bowed and left the room. Cavendish exhaled, letting the anger flow from his body. “Miguel, please see that no one comes in.” He’d evidently adopted the young Spaniard as his valet of sorts.

“Yes, my lord,” he said in his accented English. He gave Granger a smirk coupled with a leer. “It is good to see you, Capitan.”

“Thank you Miguel,” Granger said, smiling, then turned to Cavendish. “So you didn’t want to see me?”

“It is my mother. She is a bit overprotective, and now that I am crippled she seems to think I am defenseless,” he groused.

“You still have your intelligence, your charm, and your magnificent body,” Granger said, running his hand up Cavendish’s back. The young man smiled at him.

“God, how I miss you. Help me turn over so I can talk to you,” he said.

“I have a better idea,” Granger said. “It seems I’ve interrupted your bath. I think I should take over.” Cavendish grinned as Granger removed the towel, exposing Cavendish’s naked body. He grabbed the sponge and dipped it in the water, then wiped it sensuously along Cavendish’s back, making sure to stop just short of his ass, and then followed that up with the towel, drying him off. Then he ran his mouth down Cavendish’s spine, kissing his skin as he went. Cavendish moaned and spread his legs.

Granger avoided his beautiful ass and moved instead to his legs. He washed his one foot, drying it off and then licking and sucking on each toe, then repeated the process for his calf and his thigh, allowing the sponge to brush against his balls. Then he moved to the bandaged leg, the one that had been amputated just below the knee. Granger took the bandaged leg in his hands and carefully caressed it, making sure not to hurt him by touching the end, and gently kissed the bandages. Then he washed Cavendish’s other thigh, allowing the sponge to linger a big longer when it slid against his balls. Cavendish was moaning now, and grinding against the sheets, so excited was he.

Granger took the sponge and wiped off each of his ass cheeks, then ran the sponge down Cavendish’s crack, across his cute pucker, and down his almost hairless taint. He rinsed the sponge out and got it full of water, then held it over Cavendish’s crack, allowing some to slowly drip out, and landing on his pucker then trickling down over his taint. “Mmm,” Cavendish moaned softly.

Granger then knelt between his legs and began to lap up the water with his tongue, licking Cavendish’s balls, then his taint, and finally his pucker, using long strokes with his tongue, then short probing thrusts. “You have to make love to me,” Cavendish said urgently. “Now!”

Granger smiled and pulled out his hard dick, then slathered some lanolin on it and on Cavendish’s crack. He lay partially on Cavendish’s back, his waistcoat rubbing against Cavendish’s clean, bare skin, and slowly pushed his cock inside the young man. “Is that what you want?” Granger asked in his most sultry voice.

“Oh yes,” Cavendish said, almost a cry. Granger slowly made love to him; going so slow, it was almost torture, keeping Cavendish on edge.

“I love this, being one with you,” Granger cooed into his ear. “I have yearned for this.” He was going too slowly to bring Cavendish off, but he had misjudged his own control, and felt the unmistakable signs of an orgasm as he reached the point of no return. “I have to cum, I’m going to cum,” he whispered urgently into Cavendish’s ear, then his body took over as it spasmed over and over again, flooding Cavendish’s willing ass. Granger pulled out and pulled up his breeches, then used the sponge to wipe away the lanolin and his own seed that was leaking out of Cavendish’s hole.

The young man was frantic to cum, but Granger was not through with him yet. He helped him roll over, exposing his throbbing cock, almost purple from his extreme state of arousal. He pinned Cavendish’s arms behind his head with his hand and then took the sponge and washed his left armpit, toweled it dry, and then licked and kissed it, tickling Cavendish and making him laugh. He did the same to the right pit, and then moved the sponge across his chest, brushing it against his nipples. Cavendish moaned and arched his back up, thrusting his cock into nothing but air. Granger sucked and licked his nipples, then moved the sponge across his abdomen and repeated his moves. When he was done, he let some water drip into Cavendish’s belly button, then sucked it out and drank it.

Slowly Granger washed his pubic hair and his balls, making sure not to touch Cavendish’s throbbing dick. When he was finally finished, Granger took the sponge and softly moved it along Cavendish’s considerable length, then dried it gently with a towel, and finally took him into his mouth. He worked Cavendish with his mouth, keeping him on edge, driving him insane, and then stopped, leaving the young man thrashing around, desperate for satisfaction.

Granger moved up and their lips met. Of all the sexual acts and positions they’d tried, this was still the most magical. Their lips worked together in unison, while Granger grabbed Cavendish’s dick and slowly stroked him closer and closer to an orgasm. He pushed his tongue into Cavendish’s mouth, wrestling with his in as synchronous a movement as when their lips met. He knew Cavendish was close when he withdrew his tongue and started moaning directly into Granger’s mouth. Granger felt his dick throb in his hand, then Cavendish all but screamed right into his mouth as his cock erupted, blasting all over his clean chest, and landing a few globs on Granger’s shirt. Granger stroked him and stroked him, making it last as long as he could, and then when he was done, he licked Cavendish’s cum off his clean body.

Cavendish looked up at him wide-eyed, still panting. “I hope you did not exert yourself overmuch,” Granger said coyly.

“That was incredible. George, I think that was the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Granger chuckled. “It is only that much fun because I love you.”

“And I love you,” Cavendish said. They stayed there for quite a while, talking and just enjoying each other, until Granger had to leave.

“I must go if I am to make it back to London before nightfall,” he said sadly.

“I want to go with you,” Cavendish pleaded.

“You must rest, and when you recover, you can return to the ship, if that is what you want,” Granger said.

“Thank you, for everything,” Cavendish said. Granger kissed him one last time, one more magical kiss, and then left his room. He strode past the nervous butler, down the steps outside, and mounted his stallion for another spirited ride back to London.

March, 1796

“Weigh anchor, Mr. Roberts,” Granger ordered as he stood balanced on the quarterdeck. It was a beautiful day, rare for this early in March, with a strong breeze blowing down the Thames Valley, perfect to guide them out into the Channel.

“Aye aye sir,” he said. The pipes blew, summoning the men to their stations. They put the bars in the capstan and began to heave, while the marine band played ditties so they could keep their rhythm. Aloft, the men loosed the topsails, pushing the Belvidera forward as if she were straining to be away from the shore.

“Anchor’s aweigh, sir,” Carslake called from the bow. Granger had known that the moment it had happened, as soon as he’d felt Belvidera free herself from the bottom and become a living, mobile thing.

Granger paced his quarterdeck in a fine mood, which was unusual. Normally when he left home, he was desperately sad and almost immediately homesick. This time, he was almost relieved to go. He was physically and emotionally exhausted. He’d performed his duties as a husband at least nightly, although sex with Caroline was hardly a duty. He’d gone to see the Duke of Clarence two additional times, and had ridden out to Bulstrode Park once more to spend the day with Cavendish. He’d gotten a decidedly friendlier reception the second time around.

He’d enjoyed a bath with Arthur, who still worried him. Granger gathered he had a new lover, although Arthur wouldn’t say who it was. Regardless, the liaison was obviously not emotionally fulfilling, it was stressful, and Granger worried that he’d gotten himself into an abusive relationship. He’d asked Caroline to watch out for Arthur, and she admitted she was concerned about him as well, but there really was nothing Granger could do for him. If he needed help while Granger was home, he would do what he could. Away at sea, there was nothing for it but to hope.

Then there had been the most interesting encounter of all. He’d been home alone, with Caroline off with her mother attending some social event. At first, the solitude was nice, but then it became boring. Just as he was about to summon Winkler and tell him he was going out, Cheevers came in and announced a visitor. Granger waited with interest as Cheevers left and came back, escorting Beau Brummell.

There was something about Brummell that was compelling, that drew a person in. Part of it was undoubtedly his good looks, his fine features and fair skin, along with his dark hair, all combined to give him an almost porcelain look. His father had been private secretary to Lord North, hardly an aristocratic position, but Brummell was the classic Dandy, focused on his appearance above all else. It was rumored that he took five hours to dress. There were other dandies, there were plenty of them, but none of them had his taste and his style. The way he tied his cravat, the way the color of his waistcoat always matched his jacket perfectly, the man just exuded good taste. Add to that his wit and his charm, and the whole package created a sort of charisma, drawing people in like a moth to a flame. “Welcome!” Granger said enthusiastically, pulling himself out of his introspection.

“I hope my call does not come at an inopportune time?” Brummell asked. Even his voice was classy: smooth and silky.

“Not at all. Your arrival is most fortunate, as I have been positively bored this past hour,” Granger said, smiling.

“So I am only welcome because I relieve your boredom?” Brummell said, almost flirting.

“I have not seen how well you accomplish that goal, so you must be welcome on your own merits alone,” Granger said. They chatted and bantered for a bit, and Granger poured them both some of his best claret. It seemed appropriate somehow that when Brummell came to visit, he should put his best foot forward.

“You must show me these baths I have heard of,” Brummell finally said. Granger had contemplated spending his afternoon soaking, so he knew they were heated and ready.

“You must do more than see them,” Granger said. “Follow me.” He led Brummell down to the baths, and his eyes bulged with jealousy and anticipation as soon as he saw them.

“They are wondrous!” he said. Granger looked at his handsome body and felt the lust surge within him.

“While it would be a shame to destroy that beautiful knot, I am hoping you would care to join me?” Granger asked, gesturing toward the water.

“Yes, it is one of my better efforts,” Brummell said, putting his hand up to his cravat, “but I must yield to the temptation in front of me.” Granger guided him to one of the dressing rooms, and took the other himself. He stripped off his clothing much more quickly than Brummell, which was no surprise, and opted to relax in the pool while he waited. It took some fifteen more minutes for Brummell to make his appearance, and when he did, it impacted Granger beyond what he’d imagined.

Brummell had smaller muscles, but those seemed appropriate when they were clothed with his almost white skin. Somehow he managed to maintain his poise even now, when he was nude. But that wasn’t what really surprised Granger. He had shaved his entire body, including his legs. Except for the hair on his head, he was completely bald. On some men, it may have looked ridiculous, but on Brummell it just looked sexy, very sexy.

Granger rose up out of the waters to escort him in, and to show off his own body. He knew he was an attractive man, and for some reason, he wanted Brummell to know that too. His dick was already plumping, though, so he welcomed Brummell into the pool somewhat quickly. They floated in the pool together, sometimes close enough that their legs would brush against each other, or their thighs would come into contact.

Brummell was telling him about his nose, and how it had been broken when he was younger. Granger moved closer to inspect it and looked first at his nose, then down into the clear water where both his erection and Brummell’s were protruding not two inches apart from each other. Granger moved forward slowly until he felt his dick brush against Brummell’s, then he looked up and their eyes met. Granger moved his hand over to Brummell’s chest, slowly brushing his fingers across his nipples, and then let his hand drop slowly lower, brushing his fingers across Brummell’s abdomen, until he reached his dick. It was quite average in size, but looking at it through the water, it was as sexy as Brummell himself.

“I don’t normally do this,” Brummell said nervously as his hand grabbed Granger’s own dick.

“But you have before,” Granger said more than asked.

“Yes,” Brummell said softly. Granger pulled him closer, pulling their bodies together, and then ran his hand down Brummell’s back and across his baby-smooth ass. He let his fingers trail down his crack, and that was all it took. Brummell was his. Granger led him over to the soaping tub and bent him over the edge. He dove into his ass first with his mouth, and clearly Brummell liked that. But the man had fueled Granger’s lust to the breaking point. Granger knelt behind him and soaped his cock up well, then slowly pushed in to Brummell. It took some time; clearly he didn’t do this very often. Slowly Granger moved in, letting him get used to his dick, letting him stretch out enough to take him. Then he used slow, easy strokes to let Brummell get used to it.

“Mmm,” Brummell moaned. “That’s good.” Granger took that as his cue and began to pick up his pace, really fucking him now. He’d reached around with his soapy hands and run them all over Brummell’s hairless balls and pubic area, and then as he got closer, he gripped Brummell’s cock and slid his hand up and down in time to his thrusts. He could tell by his reactions that Brummell was close, and Granger gave himself permission to let himself go, to climax. In the end, Brummell came first, and like the rest of him, his orgasms were different from anyone else. Instead of grinding and thrusting rapidly, he froze, became completely still, and merely let out a whimper as his dick began to blast rope after rope of cum into the soapy water.

When they were done, they went back in to the fresh water pool to rinse off. Brummell seemed very nervous. “I don’t do that very often. Hardly ever, in fact,” he said again.

Granger moved closer to him and gently grabbed his chin, pulling his face up so their eyes met. “I could tell, but just like all of your movements, like all of you, it was exquisite.” That got a shy smile from Brummell and for the first time Granger saw him with his defenses down. “I will tell no one of this encounter. You have my word of honor.”

And that oath, that last sentence, seemed to be the recipe Brummell was looking for, the thing that brought him out of his nervous mood. It dawned on Granger that that was his biggest fear, being found out for being a bugger, and that was something he could relate to. “As will I,” he said. Granger leaned in and kissed him gently, the first time their mouths had met, and then they both got out of the pool, got dressed, and Brummell left directly.

“Sir,” Roberts said, bringing Granger out of his revelry and his daydream. He realized that he was sporting an erection on the quarterdeck, and that irritated him beyond belief.

“What is it?” he snapped, and that just irritated him even more. Roberts swallowed nervously, even though he glanced down at Granger’s deflating member.

“We have two hands for punishment, sir,” Roberts said.

Granger stared at him, feeling all the happiness and what remained of his good mood evaporate. They hadn’t had a flogging aboard for months now, and Granger was proud of the fact that Belvidera was a crack ship without need to resort to the lash. “What happened?”

“Two men got into a fight, sir,” he said. Fighting that was so obvious that it came to the attention of the officers was almost unheard of aboard.

“About what?” Granger demanded.

“One of the whores, sir,” he said. “She took a liking to Holmqvist, but Weber was the one who claimed her as his wife.” Men were allowed to have their wives aboard when the ship was in port, although most weren’t wives at all, they were just prostitutes. Still, since the Navy rarely allowed the men to enjoy leave, and since the men spent months or years aboard at a time, they turned a blind eye to it. But that wasn’t all. Granger knew Holmqvist well, even knew him intimately. And Weber was a good seaman too. So now he’d have to scar the backs of two good men, one a friend, just to uphold discipline, all over some whore.

“Were there any extenuating circumstances?” Granger asked, hoping there was a way to avoid a flogging.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” he said.

“Pass the word for them,” Granger ordered. The two men appeared and stared at their shoes, unwilling to make eye contact with him. “What is wrong with you two?” Granger demanded, feeling like a parent. “You know better.”

“Yes sir,” Weber said.

“I’m very sorry, sir,” Holmqvist said sadly.

“A dozen lashes for each of you,” Granger said, irritated beyond belief.

The following day, the gratings were rigged and both men lashed to them and whipped in sequence by the cat of nine tails, a dozen lashes each. They would heal, probably quickly for they were both young, and they would probably not have much if any scarring from it. The crew seemed to accept the punishment as fair, and most thought it was lenient. In the end, Granger would look back and remember how upset the two men were at disappointing him. If he had an ego like Nelson’s, he might credit himself with being such a good leader that the men were disappointed when they let him down, not angry at being flogged. Instead, he felt disappointed in himself, taking it as a personal failure. Perhaps if he’d paid more attention to his duties instead of his family and libido in London, this wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps if he’d been aboard, order would have been maintained.

He rapidly terminated that train of thought, not because he wasn’t guilty, but because it implied that Roberts wasn’t capable, and he was. Night fell as HMS Belvidera headed down Channel, with a Captain who was disappointed in himself.