She smacked him hard against his solid chest. “You’re making that up.”
“No. Quite the opposite. There have been official complaints.”
“Complaints about what?” Her gray eyes were wide in the fading light, and he couldn’t resist prolonging the suspense.
“Complaints from Dr. MacCloud that he’s had to listen to his wife’s cries of pleasure, all the while waiting far too long to release all his own pent-up needs.” With that, he took the lemonade glass from her hand, pulled her to stand on bare feet, and scooped her up again to carry her inside toward the dark at the top of the cottage stairs.
Afterword
England, and her allies, chose the most remote spot in the world with the island of St. Helena to imprison Napoleon after his surrender following Waterloo. However, intrigue and escape plots still swirled around him until his death in 1821.
Here is a bit of the background which led to Napoleon’s imprisonment on St. Helena in lieu of outright execution:
“The Duke of Wellington to Sir Charles Stuart, Orvillé, 28 June 1815
I send you my dispatches, which will make you acquainted with the state of affairs. You may show them to Talleyrand if you choose.
General ___ has been here this day to negotiate for Napoleon’s passing to America, to which proposition I have answered that I have no authority. The Prussians think the Jacobins wish to give him over to me, believing that I will save his life. Blücher wishes to kill him; but I have told him that I shall remonstrate, and shall insist upon his being disposed of by common accord. I have likewise said that, as a private friend, I advised him to have nothing to do with so foul a transaction; that he and I had acted too distinguished parts in these transactions to become executioners; and that I was determined that if the sovereigns wished to put him to death they should appoint an executioner, which should not be me.”
Although the official ruling on the cause of Napoleon’s eventual death was stomach cancer, various conspiracy theories have been advanced over the years, including possible gradual poisoning by arsenic.
Among the many unexecuted plots for Napoleon’s liberation from St. Helena were: escape by submarine, an escape to New Orleans engineered by a group of Americans, and a highly improbable plan to transfer him to Chile to renew his plans for world domination from there. That attempt died when the perpetrators discovered how much his health had deteriorated.
The Royal Navy had ships patrolling the waters around St. Helena and a full contingent of troops on Ascension Island to forestall any serious liberation attempts.
A number of Royal Navy surgeons figured prominently in the emperor’s care and treatment while he was imprisoned on the island, including the Irish surgeon, Barry E. O’Meara on the Bellerophon, the ship where Napoleon surrendered himself after his defeat at Waterloo. Dr. O’Meara followed him to St. Helena and became his personal physician during his time there.
Before the Bombardment of Algiers in 1816, there actually was a Royal Navy surgeon, Dr. David McManus, who played a role in helping to evacuate the family of the British consul. He was captured and imprisoned, along with the consul, and a number of sailors, but the baby was released to the Royal Navy before the bombardment began. All British prisoners were eventually released to Lord Exmouth after the Dey capitulated to his demands.
And last but not least, the beautiful HMS Arethusa did actually exist, but alas, she was not one of the ships sent to patrol the waters surrounding St. Helena. The myth behind her name, however, was irresistible to work into the plot driving “Pride of Duty.”
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Coming Soon!
Other Titles in the Men of the Squadron Series
Pride of Valor – January 2021
Pride of a Warrior – March 2021
Other Books By Andrea K. Stein
HISTORICAL ROMANCE
Blockade Running:
Fortune’s Horizon
Horizons East
Blanchard Family Rum and Shipping Dynasty:
Secret Harbor
Rhum Bay
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
Steamy Nights on Super Yachts:
Way Too Deep
Up Too Close
Out Too Far
Chapter 1
51º30'35.5140"N, 0º7'5.1312"W
London, England
April 1820
Miss Sophia Brancelli fidgeted and shifted from one foot to the other. She was as fond of ribbons as the next young woman, but her friend, Lydia, was a slave to the silken trim.
Other shoppers crowded around them in the tiny milliner’s shop on old Bond Street. “Why can your friend not choose?” one woman demanded with an angry hiss into her ear. Sophie ignored the complaint.
This was their third trip to the milliner, and Lydia seemed no closer to a decision than on their first visit. A pale rainbow of rolls lined the wooden counter, their curled tails cascading over the edge.
After sneaking a stealthy look at her friend, Sophie slipped a much-folded piece of foolscap from her reticule. She worried her bottom lip and wondered whether she should change cloudy to stormy.
Just as Sophie pulled out a worn pencil stub, Lydia finally sighed and chose another shade of green. A green so similar to the one she'd chosen the day before, Sophie would be hard put to tell the difference unless both lengths were side by side. The cost of Lydia's
