The King`s Coat

‘You can dissemble so well, Alan,' she told him sweetly. 'Was I not desirable enough to tempt you to stay?’

‘How tempting you were was the prime reason I had to leave. Do you think Sir Onsley and Lady Maude, Old Isaac, or those other servants who came from Jamaica with you would allow me to pay court to you without your family's approval? I have more respect for you than to do anything to harm your good name,' he most courtly lied. ’While Mrs. Hillwood, and that gorgeous Lady Cantner have no good name to lose?' the coy minx posed. 'What do you think I should have done, sneak into your room to bid you goodbye?' he asked, half in jest. 'Not at all!' But he had half an idea that she might have entertained just such a fantasy. 'You could, however, have considered my feelings at your lack of manners.’

’I sbaIl in future. I should also wish to ask for a dance or two, if you are not too promised already.’

’Ah, Alan…' she said with a wistful adoring smile. 'You are so… of course I shall dance with you. In fact, I would be most cross with you if we did not. I migbt remind you that I shall soon be seventeen, not such a little girl to you.’

’Believe me, I have noticed your maturing.’

’I shaIl not always be a gawky girl, and you shall not always be interested in trivial…' She turned away from him to avoid him seeing her distress. ’I am very fond of you as well, Lucy.’

’You shall be a post-captain,' she said proudly. 'Perhaps even knighted for some act of great bravery.' She turned to him and smoothed a lapel for him. 'But perhaps when you become a lieutenant.. ‘. ’And the war is over,' he added, almost piss-proud at what he was hearing from her. 'Pray God it is soon,' she agreed hotly. He took her gloved hand and brushed her fingers with his lips. My God, she loves me! he thought wildly. Now there's a new thing. There've been tnills enough glad to see my shillings, but here's an admiral's niece as good as saying she wants to marry me! Not that he was that anxious to marry, but she had the best prospects he had seen since leaving London. Nor was he anxious for the war to end, for how else could he earn prize money, make more of a name for himself, gain that commission that would assure his future? And there were a hundred obstacles in the way; she was a girl, therefore fickle in her affections. Her father could go barking mad at the thought, and most likely had a better-suited young man of her own set in mind already, and it was never up to the girl to choose.

Oh, fond daddys might indulge the whims of a favorite daughter, but if a better match was in the offing in land, entitlements, opportunity for mutual profit or (fond parents' hope of hopes) a link to the peerage, then a salty young swain could go sing for his supper.

I'm being led by my prick, he realized, but also noted that love had to start somewhere, and she did seem genuinely fond of him. She was sweet and gentle, well-spoken-so much more so than most of the squirearchy chaw-bacons in the Indies-and would make a good wife for him, dowry or no. I really am fond of her, too. But Pray God I get a ship soon. She can wait, as I shall have to…

They browsed the buffets, nibbling at the rich and spicy titbits proferred. He could not monopolize her and did not try. She was young and delighted with all the attention she was receiving from even the oldest male guests.

She was seated about midway down the long table at dinner with the middle-ranking folk while Alan was once more down far below. He shared table with a silly blond, chicken-breasted noddy whose sole social skill seemed to be stuttering 'how fascinating' whenever anyone else paused for comment. There was a dark girl named Aemilia, daughter of a pair of Country Harrys who peered about the available men with the eyes of hungry ferrets for a suitable match. Had she been by herself, and was he not almost-but-not-quite pledged to Lucy, Alan would have been fascinated by her, for Aemilia was a sleepy young brunette with a chest like a pouter pigeon that put him in mind of a younger edition of Lady Delia Cantner. She was a bit crude for his taste, though, a hearty Midlands girl with a Mumbletonian accent.

He tried to let an infantry ensign take the lead, but he was more interested in the blond noddy, whose parents owned a whacking chunk of Hampshire, it seemed; so while trying to maintain a silent dinner conversation with Lucy uptable by eye and shrug and smile, he also found himself down for three dances with Aemilia Country-Get without knowing just how he had managed it. Her buttock-brokering parents looked nwst pleased.

Lewrie always enjoyed dancing. His French hopmaster had convinced him that women dearly loved a man who could dance well and carry himself gracefully, and would eventually show their gratitude. Most naval officers, having been 'prenticed at age ten or twelve, could not dance a courtly step and only rumble about like a loose cannon in the country dances, so he had a leg up on most of them.

He and Lucy always came back together, after she had been amused by Lieutenant Wyndham, by Ashburn, by Warner and Ozzard and a platoon of panting admirers. Her hand lingered on his arm longer, their fingers held their touch longer, their smiles were shyer and more pleasing. But it was her night, and the most ardent finally got her to go to the card room to wager pennies at Loo or Hazard, and Lucy gave him a backward glance of mock despair and he was left alone.

As he fortified himself with a cup of claret punch Ashburn came across the room to join him. ’I see we have been both outranked and outmarched by those bastards from the Army,' Keith said, mopping his sweaty brow. 'There's an ocean of mutton here tonight. Keith. Why complain?’

‘Do you and Miss Beauman have some sort of an agreement?' Keith asked, finishing off one cold cup of punch and dipping another. 'The sighing and peeking have been making CommanderOzzard's teeth grind most wondrous hard.’

’We have established that we are fond of each other,' Alan admitted. 'And there is hope for after the war, perhaps. But in this life you may bank on little.’

’God stap me, but you have the best shitten luck,' Keith said. 'Prize money, some fame, and now Miss Beauman.’

’I was envious of you when you gained your commission.’

’Want to trade?' Keith said sourly. 'We shall never stir up the anchors unless the French sail past Cape Shirley, please God they do!’

‘Sir Onsley's a friend to you. You've already moved up to fifth officer from sixth,' Alan reminded him. ’But we're not at sea!' Keith groused. ’Aye, I could use a berth myself. Oh, God, Aemilia ChawBacon,' Alan muttered, spying the dark girl approaching him from the other side of the salon. 'Like to meet a very obliging girl, Keith?’

‘Oh, nice poonts,' Keith said. Alan tried to introduce Keith but it was no go, not the fact that he was a Commission Officer, not the fact that his family was rich as the Crown, nor that he was related to just about everyone who mattered. She had Alan down to dance with her at the country dances, and that was that. She was civil, but never took her gaze off Lewrie. He had to take her out onto the floor as the band struck up more lively airs, though he would have much preferred going to the card room to see how Lucy fared.

After half an hour he pushed another claret punch into her and set out to deposit her in the paws of her family, but they could not be spotted. ’Oh, they retired,' Aemilia said matter-of-factly. 'There was a nice old captain was to see me home but he's had too much to drink. Pemaps you could.. ‘. ’Well, perhaps. Where do your folks live?’

‘On the other side of the island.' She beamed. ’I would admire that, Miss Aemilia, but I am on the admiral's staff and have strict orders to stay close should he need me,' Alan lied quickly, listening to the happy cries from 1he card room as Lucy won a small pot. Unfortunately, Aemilia had laid her plans too well. Sir Onsley was nearby and saw no reason why Mister Lewrie could not safely escort a young lady home, once Aemilia had wiggled against him pleasantly. One look at her straining bosom, and it was a close thing as to whether he would have traded his flagship for a chance to fondle her bouncers. ’If I could presume upon you to pay my respects to your niece, Sir Onsley,' Alan said, almost strangling in his neckcloth at the thought of having to leave, 'and to your good lady for a most enjoyable evening.’

Sir Onsley assured him that he would, and there was nothing for it but to escort AemiIia out onto the veranda. The family coach was already gone, but a hired coach was whistled up, Aemilia insisting on a closed one to avoid the cool night air on her daringly bared shoulders.

Damn the Navy, damn, damn, damn, he thought miserably as he handed the girl in and took a seat on the front bench facing her. The coachee whipped up, but was obviously a cautious man on the steep hill road with his team. And once at the bottom he would not force the horses faster than a brisk walk. It would be two hours to get the girl home, and most likely the same returning. ’Come sit by me so we may talk,' Aemilia ordered, patting the upholstery by her side. 'The coach will sway on these roads so, we'll be safer… wedged in together.’