The King`s Commission

had practically shoved him into sampling what the wide world had to offer before he made his final choice and gave up his freedom.

Oh, surely not, Alan thought. She couldn't be suggesting that she and I… Lewrie, you're cunt-struck! If they smile at you, you want to put the leg over right then-it don't signify they want you. Best put that thought out of your lust-maddened little mind. Let's not try to bull every bit of mutton in the entire Christian world! Besides being related to Lucy, Anne's a real lady, no matter how unhappy her marriage is.

If ladies were willing, Alan Lewrie would be the first in line to alleviate their unhappiness. He had almost cut his milk-teeth on the ones who cast about for comfort and pleasure, but to work at seducing a properly respectable woman who had no mutual wish to initiate an affair had always struck him as a caddish deceit. Damnit all, he thought, I've some scruples, don't I? (Hell, maybe I really do, after all.) Why ruin a lady's reputation, and get an angry husband chasing me with pistol or sword, when there's battalions of 'em trailing their colors, just waiting for a rake like me to give 'em the eye? Not Anne-she's not one to give anyone a tumble or two and then walk away. Nor is Lucy, bless her. Right, I've had my fun for now. Let's do up our breeches and keep 'em done up, Lewrie lad. No more Betty Hillwood, no thoughts of Anne. Concentrate on Lucy.

The decision made him feel more grown up, more in control of his urges and his choices in life, though he doubted he would remain a celibate, but that was a different matter. And as he finished his beer, he could congratulate himself that he was finally becoming an adult with a clearer idea of what he wanted in life.

Chapter 5

'Jesus Christ!' he breathed, as he read the note again. More to the point: notes. One from Lucy:

I noe nott wat Cusstoms are in yur circels back home in London, but imagin howe distressed I was to lern from a Sorse who shal remane name-less that a yung man I thought werthy of my Love coud make sutch shameless and lood Advanses to my own estima vertuus Sister-in-law Anne!! I never herd the like of howe yu Carreed On with her in Publick to yur everlasting Shame and the Ruenashun of her Good Name!

Mine eys are nowe opend to wat sort of Corinthian yu reely are, and I must say, it braks my Hart to think I wuns consi thought we wood one day be congoy Mareed!

There was much more in the same vein (some of it indecipherable, of course), suitably tear-stained, but the meat of the missive was that she never wanted to see or hear from him again, and would be sorry when brother Hugh put him in the cold ground for dallying with his wife.

'But I didn't do anything!' Alan ranted in the semi-privacy of his cabin. 'God Almighty, for the first time in my life, I'm almost innocent!'

To make matters worse, there was also a note from Hugh Beauman, advising Alan that if he did not relish dying on the point of his sword, he should make himself available as soon as possible to explain himself and the report of his conduct towards a happily married woman of distinction. Mr. Beauman, Sr., had put in his own post-script denying him any more welcome at his home, or any further contact with any member of his family, until the matter had been cleared up one way or another.

And I've been so bloody… good lately! he thought sadly as he let that collection of epistolary misery fall to the bunk from almost nerveless fingers. He had stayed aboard ship for the last week, with no more trips to Betty Hillwood's, and had answered her written invitations with pleas of duty. He had gone up to Lucy's and played the virtuous young swain, listening to Lucy and Floss butcher music on last year's harpsichord, which the tropic damp and the termites had soured even before their untalented fingers got hold of it. He had drunk innumerable gallons of tea and simpered politely at the social chin-wagging. He had acted properly respectful to everyone that called, especially Anne Beauman when she and her husband had been there, too.

'Damn, damn, damn!' he moaned. 'Now, what do I do?'

He needed to think hard, and the stuffy cabin below decks was not conducive to logic. He threw on his coat and hat and stepped out into the wardroom, where several of the others were lazing about.

'Summat troublin' ye, Mister Lewrie, sir?' Caldwell asked him with a sly smile as he looked up from one of his charts he was updating, and Walsham the Marine lieutenant gave him a half-hidden smirk.

'Nothing particularly, Mister Caldwell.'

'Nothing a fellow of so much dash may not solve,' Walsham said with a titter.

'Damn your eyes, sir!' Alan spat. 'How come you by that?'

'Nothing, sir.' Walsham sobered, or tried to. 'Only that I hear you've cut a dashing figure ashore lately. Some poor girl with a 'Jack-in-the-box'? Well, twenty guineas'll take care of it.'

'I'd tread wary, Walsham,' Alan snarled, leaning over the table to face him. 'You might be slandering someone dear to me with your feeble japes, and I'll not stand for it.'

Before Walsham could re-raise his fallen jaw, Alan spun about and trotted up the accommodation ladder to the gun deck, then up to the gangways where he could pace furiously. William Pitt hissed at him as he stamped around the fo'c'sle belfry.

'Get out of my sight, you worthless little hair-ball!' Alan roared, and Pitt laid back his ears, shrank away and ran forward, while the crew on watch sprang to whatever duties they were performing lazily a moment before.

'Mister Lewrie, sir?' the quartermaster's mate asked, keeping back just in case the first lieutenant exploded at him for interrupting.

'What?' he barked, stomping to a stop.

''Is note come h'aboard fer ya, sir,' the man whispered in terror of his possible wrath, offering another one of those damned letters.

'Bloody hell, another one?' Alan growled, snatching it from him and raising a finger to the brim of his cocked hat in rough salute so the man could shrink away.

This one was from Betty Hillwood.

That's right, pile it on, why don't you? Alan thought, casting his eyes towards heaven. My God, things could not possibly get much worse, could they. Wonder what the old mort wants?

After opening it, Alan discovered that yes, indeed, things could get worse. A small whimper of pain escaped him as he read it.

You must come ashore and meet me or suffer such dire consequences as you may not imagine to your reputation and your hopes for surviving the troubles you are in. If you do not confront me by sundown today, I shall be forced to tell all.

'Sufferin' shit!' he hissed. 'Now what?'

'What's all this about?' Alan demanded after he had gotten his captain's leave to absent himself and had gone to Betty's lodgings.

'You've been a fool, Alan dear,' Betty Hillwood told him with a cool air. For once, she was properly dressed, fit for genteel company, and had the tea service on the breakfast table for them.

'Oh, I'll grant you that,' he fumed, declining her offer of tea and heading for the sideboard for a glass of wine. 'But I did nothing with Anne Beauman. It was totally innocent!'

'I was not speaking of any troubles you are in with the Beauman family.' Betty frowned. 'I am talking of the trouble you are in with me!'

'Look Betty… Mrs. Hillwood.' He fumbled. 'We had a lot of pleasure, but…'

'You beg off seeing me, yet you continue to court that simpering fool, that mere chit of a girl Lucy Beauman,' she intoned icily.

'Anne Beauman saw me leaving your apartments, that's why I didn't come back,' Alan exclaimed. 'She threatened to tell the Beaumans, out of concern for her younger sister-in-law.'

'You refused my offer of companionship and support, Alan, no matter the circumstances,' she drilled home archly. 'No one spurns me. Alan. No one.'

'Surely, you see that it's impossible,' Alan stated, aghast at her attitude. 'And I was kept aboard by duties. The Navy don't let me come and go as I please!'

'Ah, but the Navy allows you time enough ashore to woo your little Lucy, does it not? So don't lie about having