Quarterdeck

friend but kept a grave expression and entered. He sat in a chair next to the bed. 'Can I be of service to ye?' he asked neutrally.

Renzi glared balefully at him. Then he groaned and lolled back in the other chair. 'I'm all undone, I see. You shall have the truth of it—but first a drink.'

Kydd sat up, alarmed, but Renzi reached for the water pitcher on the dresser and up-ended it, gulping the water noisily. He wiped his mouth and tried to grin. 'Ah, let us say I have been the unwitting sport of Venus, the plaything of Cupid. In fine, I have to admit to being gulled in full measure.'

'Aye?' said Kydd, trying not to show his considerable interest.

'A charming nymph, a young sprig of society, whose name will be known in the highest reaches of Haligonian gentility, she it was who—who has refused me.'

'That—that woman at the banquet?' Kydd said, appalled.

'Not her,' said Renzi testily. 'A mere quicumque vult, a Cyprian taken up for the occasion. No—I speak of a young woman of grace and talents, a perfect specimen of spirited maidenhood. I met her at the admiral's rout and since then have been seen in her company at many a polite occasion, a sparkling companion. Then, the sap unwonted rising high, I pressed my attentions on her, would not be denied . . .' He trailed off, staring disconsolately at the wall.

'And then?'

'It grieves me to say it, but she—she . . .'

'Yes?'

'It seems that the young lady is—how shall we phrase it? Of the Sapphic persuasion.' At Kydd's blank look he added wearily, 'This is to mean that she prefers the company of women to that of men, in all its forms.'

'Then-'

'Quite so. For her I have been but a toy, a necessary social ornament. It has been a—salutary experience.'

'Nicholas, I—'

'And is now most firmly a thing of the past,' Renzi concluded bleakly.

Kydd subsided. It explained Renzi's distraction, his absences. And it was certain he would appreciate neither sympathy nor pity.

Renzi drew a deep breath and leaning forward said, 'Therefore we shall speak of your transmogrification.'

'My . . . ?' said Kydd carefully.

'You're clearly not fully aware of what has happened, and by that I do not mean simply your appearance with Madame Therese.' He held his head and closed his eyes for a space. 'Consider this: your action in bringing Julie to the banquet is seen as a very clever piece of theatre to bring yourself to the attention not only of society but of Prince Edward himself, a coup that has all Halifax abuzz.

'Now what that is telling the world is that you must be accounted a superior player in the arts of society, and it would go well with any who can boast your acquaintance. This is my wager with you—you'll have more invitations in the next week than you can possibly accept in a year.'

'But I don't—'

'Let me continue. This is a triviality, a vaporous nonsense compared to its true significance.' He took another pull at the water pitcher and, looking directly at Kydd, continued, 'Tom, dear chap, what is signified is that the forms of politeness, so well expressed by John Locke, however requisite in the salons and courts, must always yield to that of true character in polite company.

'In vino veritas, then. I was wrong. I freely admit it. You are your own man now, with a character and reputation that will only grow. You don't need airs and my clever words—and neither do you need to bandy empty talk about fox-hunting or the Season, for you've established a manly character of your own, which, dare I say it, is above such nonsense.

'My dear fellow—go forth and conquer. Know that you can match any gentleman for wit and reputation and at last take your place in society.'

Renzi closed his eyes. 'And leave me to die in peace.'

Kydd rose noiselessly and tiptoed away.

Renzi was right. Invitations arrived by the dozen for Lieutenant Kydd in the days that followed. At one point Captain Houghton came to him personally with a mumbled request that he grace an evening with him at the attorney general Uniacke's, known like Cunard for his four daughters, and a power in the land. Fortunately Kydd found his diary free for that night.

And Renzi was right about the other thing: the wardroom continued to talk country estates and Vauxhall Gardens, but when Kydd came in with an appreciation of the new United States Navy or a light observation on signals he was listened to respectfully, getting laughs in all the right places.

It was a heady discovery that he was free at last. Free of the demons of inferiority, the fear of being seen as socially gauche, the oaken-headed tarpaulin, an embarrassment. Now he could hold his own in any society.

'Nicholas, are you at liberty tonight? It would give me th' greatest pleasure to sup with you—at Pontac's at seven?'

Kydd was determined to do his friend proud. 'Do have more o' the roast lark, they're so particular in the cooking here,' he said. 'And I hope the Lafite is up to your expectations,' he added anxiously. He piled Renzi's plate high and insisted on pouring the wine.

Renzi was unusually silent, which Kydd put down to his recent experience. It needed all of an hour before he finally spoke his mind. 'There is an observation I feel obliged to make, Thomas, bearing as it does on our long friendship.' He weighed his words carefully. 'An unkind observer might remark that in our lower-deck existence we had a peculiar need, one for the other. I—that in my term of exile there was one of intelligence, uncommon good sense and enquiring nature to lighten my durance. You—my trifles of philosophy and intellectual penetrations could