Jack lay back on the soft bed and stretched his legs. Throwing off the heavy counterpane, he felt the cool morning breeze drifting through the open window, picked up the copy of the Times and settled back to read. He sipped at a cup of tea that was resting on a mahogany stand by the bed. It was early morning but late for him to rise; whether at sea or at Ashgrove, he was always up with the lark or before. But somehow here at Meadowrise he preferred to linger in his bed.

"Jack? Pass me that shawl, dear."

He reached to the foot of the bed and handed over a fine silken wrap, watching her slip it round her shoulders as she unlaced the ribbons on her bodice. Discreetly, she bared one breast and offered it to the little baby who snuggled up to her mother and began to feed, her chubby fingers grasping at her mother's bosom, staring into her eyes. Jack watched the scene entranced, the newssheet forgotten. He had never seen scenes of nurture close at hand and it moved his heart to have this chance.

Caroline raised her eyes and smiled at him. "You look so surprised. How do you think you survived infancy if you did not feed upon your mother's teat? Lor, I am glad I did not have to nurse you- what an appetite you must have had!" Caroline chuckled as she stroked her baby daughter's wispy blonde hair. The child was three months old and in blooming good health.

Jack grinned and slid from the bed to sit at her feet, to caress his little girl and her mother's bountiful breast. "My mother did not feed me, I am sure. I was raised by a wet nurse. There are not many ladies of your rank who place their own babe at their breast," he smiled lovingly at her.

"Then they are wretched fools. What is more beautiful than a mother suckling her own child? It is good for both of us- look at my figure, Jack, I am almost restored! Why my waist is hardly bigger than when I was a maid!"

Jack nodded. "You are as beautiful as ever, madam, more so indeed. I like the little extra that your body carries¼extra ballast to stabilise the craft. It enables me to achieve more thrust¼" he chuckled and she swatted him with the end of the shawl.

"What's your excuse, pray tell? You are carrying a sight more extra ballast than I!" Caroline jabbed at his girth. He was growing portly and he knew it- but Caroline loved his heavier body. She revelled in his solid flesh and prodigious muscle.

The baby finished suckling and lay back to gaze upon her mother who tickled her under the chin. Jack reached out and wiped the tear of milk that oozed from Caroline's swollen nipple and raised it to his lips. It tasted finer than the sweetest wine. Then he ran his large hand over the tiny head of his daughter whom he had met for the first time the night before. Little Isabelle. Their second child.

"Come my sweeting! To your Papa- let's see if he can wind you while I take my tea. Careful, Jack- watch her head!" He picked up his precious charge as if she were made of porcelain and rested her upon his naked chest. Strolling to the window, he held her there and patted her little warm back, a feeling of quite absurd bliss overtaking him.

The view from the window was over rolling fields; this cottage was part of the estate of the Cavendish family, now owned by Caroline's elder brother, the Eighth Duke. He had allowed her to build this rustic retreat on a small meadow on his land for her to escape from the pressures of her busy London society life. It was a secret hideaway. It was where she met Jack on the rare occasions that they managed to snatch a few days together.

London was impossible; they were both too easily recognised to take such a reckless chance. Caroline was reluctant to skirt scandal, more for Jack's sake than her own; she personally did not care if gossips thought she had a lover- when she hadn't there had always been endless speculation and now she had taken one - well, at least she was having the pleasure as well as the reputation!

And what pleasure! Jack was as lusty as ever, as attentive and as tender- perhaps even more so. Caroline had noticed a change in him and suspected that he was just as in need of physical comfort as she was. He was older and did not seem to whore as once he had. She wondered about his relationship with Sophie but he never spoke of it. There had been no children since the birth of Georgie five years ago - what did that signify?

Placing down the china cup, Caroline watched him at the window, whispering softly to his daughter and rocking her against him. Suddenly the child belched loudly and her father chuckled.

"Well, well, well, we must needs teach you manners, little beauty! Pardon me and all that fol-de-rol! That would have done justice to one of my men after a sizeable helping of plum duff!" he laughed. Caroline smiled at the sight of the pair - Jack's enormous back and the little pink head of Isabelle peering round-eyed over his broad shoulder. She rose and took a napkin to dab at the trickle of regurgitated milk that ran down his back.

As she traced the milky pattern down his bare skin, she sighed at the puckers and ridges of his many wounds; his body was like a landscape pitted with ridges and valleys, all bearing tribute to his daring and bravery and the service he had given to his country. What a contrast was his marked, tanned weather-beaten body to the fresh pink bundle that he carried- and yet the little darling had come from him. How could that be so? That this formidable man could father such a tiny scrap of perfect loveliness as their child seemed absurd in the extreme - but nevertheless it was true. The wonder of parenthood!

His body was bare except for a pair of loose linens that hung low upon his hips; he had probably not laced them up when he had pulled them on. Caroline shivered slightly at the thrill of his flesh and the memory of how it filled her and made her weak. She could still hear the whispered, "I will love you till you weep for joy..." from the night before. And so she had.

At that moment Jack burst into song, softly so as not to scare his daughter, an old sea ditty such as fathers sing to their little ones. It filled Caroline's heart to bursting.

Dance for your Daddy, my little lassie
Dance for your Daddy, for your Mammie sing.
You shall have a fishie in a little dishie
You shall have a fishie
When the boat comes in.

The baby gurgled and banged her little fists on her father's shoulder as he nuzzled against her and kissed her cheek. Isabelle's tiny fingers were wrapped around his long blond hair. Caroline felt sure that Isabelle recognised her father; babies have a sense. The child was normally shy with strangers but had accepted him with never a cry or a pulled face. Would that she could grow up knowing him as her Papa!

Ting came scurrying in, bobbing to them both. The dear girl with her little black eye patch was devoted to the baby as she has been to her elder brother.

"Ma'am...Sir....I take baby for bath and sleep." Jack turned and smiled at Ting who immediately blushed every colour under the sun- she had been in love with Captain Aubrey from almost as early as her mistress.

"Ah, Ting...what an excellent girl you are. Take the little duchess if you will...but keep her close. I want to spend as much time with her as I can."

Ting beamed and cradled the child as she curtseyed and left the room. Alone, Caroline came to stand behind him and ran her hands around his waist. They stood holding each other for a while, eyes closed and savouring the togetherness that was so rarely possible.

He turned and caught her in his arms, pulling her into his deep kiss, his hands tight on her upper arms. Caroline let herself be taken, aware that she was molten in his hands and loving him even more for his mastery over her- no other man could claim that right. As he broke away and reached to nibble at her neck, his hands went lower and circled her buttocks. With an easy hitch he raised her and she wrapped her legs around him as he whirled her round and round and they fell together on the bed.

They rolled, laughing and teasing, he pulling up her nightgown from the hem, baring her shamelessly, and she merely giggled. For her part, she pushed away his hastily donned linens, worn only because of the necessary intrusion of her maid. Otherwise Jack would have paraded around naked- he had no inhibitions about his body and loved the natural state.

Both naked and in high humour on this fine morning, they settled back into the bed. Jack found his favourite resting place upon her cushioned breasts and amused himself with them, licking at the droplets of milk and inhaling their milky woman smell. He was always a man given to the appreciation of a fine bosom but Caroline's maternal breasts were driving him to hitherto unknown passions. Meanwhile Caroline lay back and fingered his hair while she raised one little white foot and stroked his manhood as it saluted her.

"Jack...stop! Let me play." He pulled away and she plunged down to burrow in his groin and to taste his manliness. He groaned. He had dreamed of her attentions these long months past and lay back to watch her as she paid her own special brand of lip service to his ardent cock. Brushing back her long curls, the better to observe her, he wondered at his good fortune to have found his way back to her and the sheer delight he felt to have another child. Two years ago he had thought he had lost all that was dear to him and now it was restored ten-fold. He had his command, his reputation, a substantial fortune won by his own endeavours, a dear wife and three children back in Hampshire and this- the love of his life, his inestimable Caroline, his occasional mistress and forever love and the two children they had made together. What more could any man ask?

Caroline crept up his body and straddled him, naked and unashamed, her body ripe and luscious, her breasts spilling forth before his eyes. "Come higher, sweetheart. Let me see you," and she bounced like a young girl upon his belly as she slithered her hips down his chest and placed her feet at either side of his head. Ah then did Jack sigh and plunge his mouth into her juicy depths, the sweetest taste he had ever known and the greatest pleasure, to hear her soft moans and her rising passion. Her frantic cries as he brought her with his lips to Paradise rang out across the morning air. Ting raised her head and smiled as she bathed the little girl. "That is your mother and your father! How they love!" she whispered to the gurgling child.

Back in their room, Jack laid his Duchess before him and made his final breach, his powerful thighs wrapped around by her soft legs. Nothing had ever felt like the passage to her hot wet core that held and tightened against him as her body rose and offered itself to his hands. Caroline grasped his thick biceps and squeezed as her head fell back and she cried out at the feel of his magnificent body and the steel of his mighty cock. Refreshed by sleep, Jack was strong and lusty, wishing to make his mistress peak again and again. He loved nothing better than to hold back and love her until she was weak and tearful, helpless with passion, lost in her love for him. No one in the world made him feel this way nor ever would again. He could not say goodbye this time.

Time passed, marked only by the rhythmic motion of the man and woman, rising and falling like the ocean wave, he the ship riding through the calm waters, ploughing his route below and above the crest. They tossed and turned on that soft bed, now one atop now the other, until he fell upon her unable to stay himself further and spent himself in a long deep shudder, his body trembling in its new frailty. Then her arms enfolded him and held him close, her love, her precious baby, home from the sea.

Robert Jenkinson, the second Earl of Liverpool called the meeting adjourned and exchanged pleasantries with members of his Cabinet. He gravitated to a group of men with the purpose of asking an opinion of Lord James Gambier, Red Admiral of the Fleet and now the Sea Lord, concerning recent dispatches from the fleet in the North Atlantic. Unfortunately he had not marked the presence in the group of one of his Ministers with whom he shunned personal contact, The Duke of Barsetshire. But he was trapped and had to make polite conversation.

"Ha, Stanhope, I trust you are well?"

"Yes, Prime Minister," he replied tersely, his cold eyes betraying a contempt that was quite obvious.

Jenkinson was angered by the casual impoliteness of the arrogant fool; he decided to return the compliment. "And how is your beautiful wife? Fully recovered from her recent delivery, I trust...I hear she was brought to bed of a daughter. My congratulations, sir."

The group of men fell into an awkward silence, all eyes upon the Aubusson carpet. Lady Caroline Stanhope, Duchess of Barsetshire, the famous society beauty and political patron, had indeed given birth to a daughter but it was a well-known fact that Sir William was not the father. It was one of those ill-kept secrets that the Duke and Duchess were estranged; they shared a residence but little else - although when required they would appear together in public. It was generally believed that the Prime Minister, her very dear friend and confidant, was the father of this child and only his desire to retain political office had forced the Duke grudgingly to acknowledge the baby as his own.

"My wife is well. She is with the child on her brother's estate in Derbyshire. She prefers the country air for her daughter." His impersonal reference to 'the child' and 'her daughter' spoke volumes.

"Capital, dear fellow, capital. Send her my regards and wishes for a speedy return to society. Her sparkling presence and sharp wit are sorely missed. Good day, sir."

Jenkinson smiled inwardly at his point scored and moved on. He admired Duchess Caroline above all women, that much was true, but they had never shared any intimacy other than that of political confidences. Not, however, that he did not desire her greatly and wish that the lady would favour him with a more personal relationship. It amused him that he was generally believed to be the father and he did little to dispel the rumours. If he could not have the beautiful lady then the next best thing was that people believed that he had. It would only serve to improve his reputation both in his party and the country as a whole. Men of power are even more impressive if their virility matches their political might.

It occurred to him, however, that it might serve him well to find out who the real father was. Whoever his rival might be, knowledge was power. Either it might be useful to have some political lever on a lady as influential as Lady Caroline who was privy to the private thoughts of many of the leading men of the day- be they Whig, Tory or even some of the accursed Reformers and it also might be a way of 'persuading' her in the matter of intimacy. How far would the fragrant lady be prepared to go to keep her secret?

In his private office, he summoned his private secretary Josiah Crabtree, a gaunt, dried stick of a man whose emotions were as desiccated as his limbs. He detested the fellow but knew his worth- he was an administrator of scrupulous exactitude and an intelligence gatherer par excellence who loved nothing better than rooting out the frailties of the Prime Minister's enemies. He thrived on the ruination of others, the more noble the reputation, the more pleasure he derived from despoiling it.

"Crabtree. I have a little task for you. The Duchess of Barsetshire is delivered of a daughter...rumour believes it to be mine. It is not. Find out the source of the seed, there's a good man. It is high time I had a little control over the wayward Duchess, if you smoke my meaning, sir."

Crabtree bowed and withdrew, a mean smile curling on his bony features. This was just the sort of task that most fired his blood. He would drool and dribble over the lascivious details of a famous scandal. He sensed meat bound for his slaughterhouse.

Jack and Caroline rode over the rolling fields and through the thickly wooded copses of the Chatsworth estate. They were both elated to be out in the late summer afternoon, galloping across the miles of well-tended ground, neat farms and cottages, placid herds of Jersey cows and flocks of fat sheep, the real economy of those textile areas. It was a very different landscape than that of Jack's beloved Hampshire- deep inland and not a sign of the sea. And yet he welcomed it as never before. Normally he felt ill-at-ease away from the coast, but with Caroline he was glad to forget the navy and the sea. She was a part of something other that his career and his lifelong relationship with the maritime. It felt right and proper that she should exist somewhere far away from the reality of his life. She was his dream, his illusion- the other self he imagined when alone and adrift.

Caroline rode well- she had a natural seat- she was a woman who had ridden with the hunt since girlhood. Her hair blew loose from its riding hat and her cheeks flamed red with the sun and breeze; she laughed gaily with pleasure as they sped together over the land. Jack watched her and was amazed that he was here with her and that she loved him. He couldn't imagine why.

Caroline turned to watch Jack as they raised their speed and raced together. His hair was loose, his cheek was stubbled with beard, his shirt was open baring his chest as he rose from the saddle and challenged her to ride faster and stay with him. His legs were rippling with muscle as they gripped the horse's flanks, his strong hands held the reins as if they were mere ribbons; he thrilled her, and the sensation of speed and the pressure of the saddle on her loins aroused her to a fevered state. She wanted him here and now.

Ahead to the right there was a clump of trees. Heading for them, driving her horse away from Jack, she made the trees and pulled her mount up. With a quick look, she saw Jack veer towards the copse having lost some distance on her. Jumping down, she found a spot and laid herself down in a delicate position. There she was when Jack saw her and leapt from his horse.

"Caroline! Good God, what happened?" He threw himself at her side as she lay, apparently unconscious. She opened one eye and saw his distraught face, feeling cruel to torment him so.

"Jack. You took your time, my love. Pray can I interest you in a romp in the wood? I have a sudden urge to be one with nature and make love under the clear blue sky!"

Jack rolled his eyes and grunted. "You are a most wanton hussy, madam! May I remind you that you are a peeress of the realm and the mother of two children!" But he settled himself beside her and began to unlace her riding habit and hitch up her skirts, his hand running though her petticoats to remove her undergarments with a practised hand.

"Then you must teach me a lesson, sir, that I will not forget. What does a wanton hussy deserve, Captain?  I fear I am allowing my quivering quim to guide my reason!"

Jack chuckled as he raised her skirts above her head and parted her legs. "I must show you what a man does to a woman who tempts him. I warn you, madam, you are about to be boarded in the most shameless fashion. Lower your colours and accept the inevitable fate..." He buried his face between her lilywhite thighs.

"Oh Lord, sir, have pity on me! For I am but a foolish woman who has an urge to see your great gun in action. Open your gun port, sir, and show me what a well-oiled cannon can do for a woman!"

He licked her soundly and then, with a wicked laugh, he unleashed his cock and stroked it before her, lying back on the verdant ground while she bent to kiss and suckle upon it. He stared up at the sky and then down at his mistress who tended to him so openly. His naked loins, sunkissed as they were kissed by her tender lips rose before them. He had never felt so virile as when he was with her; she was the epitome of womanhood to him.

"Caroline... my love... must we take care? We cannot risk another babe..."

Caroline licked him slowly and broke away, giggling. "I am feeding a child. I cannot conceive. Lor, Jack, you know nothing but infernal boats and mathematics! Ask Stephen when next you meet, he will confirm it for you!"

In that shady copse they came together and loved slowly and playfully, the smell of newly harvested fields rising and the damp lush ground of the dell. In his arms, Caroline felt the utter peace and intoxicating passion that he always created in her. She would not give him up but she would do all in her power to protect him from harm.

Lying back later in exhausted satiation, clothes awry and their long hair unbound, they spoke quietly to each other.

"How is John?" Jack asked of his son.

Caroline grew a little misty-eyed. "Well, or so his letters tell me, but he is missing his Mama. I know you will think I have made a namby-pamby of him but he is his mother's son. School may not be as hard a regime as the sea, but it is a different life and will take some time for him to be accustomed."

"He is eight years old, Caroline. He is not a baby any more. Do you want him to be a man or a mouse?"

Caroline frowned. "That is why I sent him to Eton. But I still miss him and he misses me- why is that wrong?"

Jack rolled over and kissed her. "It is human nature and I am proud he loves his mother so. But it is a fact of life that he must learn to make his way in the world and you must let him go. Does he still wish to go to sea?" he fondled the golden curl that rested on her naked breast.

"Yes, more than ever, but Sir William will not hear of it. He is a peer of the realm. I expect he will allow him an army commission after Oxford but nothing more than that."

This time it was Jack who frowned. "He is my son. He should be a naval officer." She saw the flash of anger and a glimmer of Jack, the awesome post-captain, in his response.

"He is not your son. Not in the way that would give you rights over him. Let it go, Jack, for it is of no use. We have always known that." Caroline stroked his face and he relaxed, accepting the truth of her words.

"How does he feel about his sister?"

"John is delighted- he hated to leave her when the term started."

Jack nodded. "He will protect her in the future. Would that I could!"

They both lay back lost now in reality rather than the idyll of these halcyon days. 

"How did your husband react?" Jack asked all at once.

"He will not see Isabelle nor have her in his presence. But he has publicly acknowledged her. He thinks she is the child of the Prime Minister and dare not raise a public scandal for fear of his own career. If he thought that Isabelle had been fathered by anyone else, he would divorce me. He has made a small settlement on her but she will have no land nor claim upon the title."

"I will provide for her. I have the means. My lawyer can draw up the details. An anonymous benefactor is not an unusual state of affairs. She will want for nothing," Jack whispered into Caroline's ear.

"I have my own fortune, she will not be a pauper, Jack, but I thank you for your gift. One day I will tell my children the truth, whatever they think of me, and I will reveal the benefactor who has loved her from afar all her life."

A moment of sad acceptance passed between; they well knew the cost that their hidden love demanded. But their time together was short, the day was glorious and their spirits could not hold them back. This was the season for love and laughter; the time for creating the memories they cherished when apart. Jack stood up, brushed the grass and twigs from his clothes, buttoned himself up and held out his hand. Caroline took it and he swung her up, kissing and nuzzling her as she fastened up her garments. As she broke away to don her undergarments, Jack ran his hand up her gown and fondled her naked buttocks, rubbing himself against her as he groaned.

"John Aubrey! You are a most libidinous scrub! Can a woman have no rest! I had thought your barrels were quite empty of shot!" She giggled but wriggled playfully beneath his hand.

"I reload as I fire. If you insist on parading your juicy target before my eyes, what else is a man to do?" He teased but let her go, retrieved his hand and wrapped his arm about her as they strolled back to their horses, laughing and kissing. With an easy lift, he raised her to her sidesaddle, secured her seat and checked her saddle. Once assured that she was comfortable, he placed his foot in his stirrup and swung his leg over the back of the large stallion and they trotted slowly homeward, deep in conversation, many stories and details of each of their lives to catch up on as they enjoyed the late afternoon sunshine.

William Lord Stanhope slammed the door to his study and poured himself a glass of brandy. He was incandescent with rage at his humiliation at the hands of the Prime Minister in front of his Cabinet colleagues. The man had almost waved his infidelity before him, gloating in his impregnation of the Duchess and his own shameful position as a cuckold. Something snapped inside this bloodless man and he stormed from his retreat to mount the grand staircase and make his way to his wife's suite of rooms on the second floor. Flinging doors open, he made for her escritoire, the elegant writing desk where she attended to her correspondence. There must be some evidence, a letter, a reference to Jenkinson- something which would prove her immorality! He had had enough of scrabbling at that man's feet for crumbs. Career be damned! He'd bring them both down in a mighty avalanche of scandal.

He read through scores of her private mail; it was mostly of a pleasant social or political nature. There was nothing to reproach her; she had been clever. Passing on, he entered her bedroom, a beautiful room furnished by the younger Chippendale, silk carpets, brocade hangings, wallpaper inlaid with gold leaf, upholstery of the finest satins and velvet: the chamber of a wealthy and spoiled woman. He prowled like a lean wolf, stalking his tender prey, his tongue slightly protruding from his grey lips, his breath short and panting, anger scarce restrained.

Pulling open drawers, emptying fine undergarments of lace and cotton, raking through bottles of expensive perfumes and various cosmetics, throwing the contents of chests and cupboards on the floor, the Duke searched for a sign of infidelity. Servants stood back and watched in silent horror as their mistress's possessions were perused; few knew her secret but all knew that she had one. None of them blamed her.

Finally he dragged the bedding from the grand four-poster, felt beneath the mattress, his rage now almost causing him to scream out with anger. As he threw bolsters and linen sheets about, he dislodged a book lying on the table by the bed. It was a book of poems, her favourite, Donne, and it tumbled onto the floor. Two things fell from its leaves. One was a letter written on expensive paper, smelling of lavender. The other was a lock of yellow hair.

At once he sensed he was near to his goal and he picked up the objects, sat on the bed and began to read.

My dear, dear Caroline!

Your news has reached me here in West Sussex where I am miserable as can be as I await my final weeks of confinement. This warm weather has been such a trial in this condition- London must have been worse! But what joy! A daughter- you must be delighted - a brother for your handsome Johnnie. I am sure she will be a great beauty with such parents. I do pray however that she inherits your form- her father's height and formidable musculature would not sit well when swathed in the latest fashions. May she take after her inestimable mother!

You are well, I trust? Please come down and visit when I am recovered. Although I am in good health, this is my sixth child and I am determined the last. When I see you and your girlish shape I will be so envious- I am quite a pudding these days. Freddie does not seem to mind - as you can see from the quite unseemly fecundity I appear to enjoy! But I do not intend to keep him from my sheets - we will simply have to seek advice and try some of these new infernal French contraptions. I believe there is also a cap from Holland that is suggested....

Lord William broke away, disgusted by the intimate crudity of the letter. He read the name at the end

'From your loving and very rotund friend, Victoria, Lady Melchett.'

Women were no better than harlots, all of them, the greatest ladies included. All they knew was satisfying the hot itch between their legs. But he smiled, a triumphant rictus- the first proof of her treachery. The father of the bastard was a tall man and well built. It was not the Prime Minister, that was clear, for the Duke was a small and lean man. But then...the friend implied that Johnnie and this brat were brother and sister, that they might look alike. A startling realisation came to him. He knew she had betrayed him when she got her son but he had accepted that as a necessity for the preservation of his name. Had she been cuckolding him with the same man for all these years? Was she involved in some parallel false marriage that, perhaps, was well known behind his back? This would mean that not only was Jenkinson not the father but that some one else had been mocking him for years- and maybe the Prime Minister was party to the joke?

If he had been angry before, he was past words by now. The whore! But at least he was now free to punish her without damage to his political ambitions and the bastard who had ploughed his wife for years would finally get his desserts. Storming from the room, he called for his private secretary.

"Galbraith! Here, man, now!"

Andrew Galbraith, a dour Scottish clerk, slipped into the study and stood by his master. He was a man of scrupulous neatness; his clothes, although plain and unostentatious, were always clean and fresh, his sandy hair was neatly arranged and his freckled face and white soft hands were shining with careful attention to cleanliness. This particular nature extended to his work; he was an assiduous man who rarely made an error, for he rarely acted without recourse to thought and planning.

"Sir?"

The Duke fixed him in his icy gaze. "I have some revelations to make of a singularly unpleasant nature. They concern my wife." He spat the word 'wife' out with contempt. Galbraith was not surprised. He had observed the behaviour of the Duke and Duchess at close hand and saw the underlying dislike and coldness between them. He knew the recent child was not legitimate and his stiff Presbyterian nature had judged the beautiful lady with the full condemnation of its narrow outlook. She might be fair and lovely on the outside but she was a nest of vipers within, a loose and immoral woman who shamed her impeccable husband. Duchess Caroline was no better than the poxed drabs who lined the streets of London and raised their skirts to advertise their filthy wares to passing men.

"My wife has a lover. I suspect she has been intimate with him for many years. I wish to find out who this man is. She may have known him since the days we spent in the East or even earlier. He is the father of both of her children. Find him."

Galbraith bowed and turned to leave. Lord William fingered the lock of hair; it was not hers, nor was it any of the children's. "Galbraith. I believe the man has yellow hair." The secretary nodded and withdrew to his small office, his logical brain already turning with the possibilities. Taking out a sheet of paper he wrote down a list of questions to himself to help him think. Each one he answered.

I.  When was Sir William John conceived? June 1806 

II.  Where was the Duchess at this date?    She left Prince of Wales Island in June 1806

III.  On which ship did she sail? HMS Surprise- then the ship of the famous Capt. Lucky Jack Aubrey of His Majesty's Royal Navy.

IV.  Who might she know with yellow hair?  Captain Jack Aubrey is known as 'Goldilocks' on account of his long yellow hair.

V.  When was lady Isabelle conceived? September 1813

VI.  Where was Capt. Aubrey in September 1813?  He left that blank.

Galbraith smiled. It was obvious to anyone who bothered to make use of his brain. She had whored her passage with the libidinous naval officer and made use of him to see to her foul passions whenever he was in port. He would lay odds that Aubrey was in London at the time of the conception of the baby. But that alone was not sufficient proof. He needed something more substantial. His first port of call must be the Naval Office at Whitehall where he could check the Captain's whereabouts over the past year- and then to Portsmouth. There must be sailors who were on that voyage and would know something. There is always someone who will talk. This would be a most satisfying task.

The week passed by as weeks tend to do and on a bright September morning, Jack mounted the black horse to ride to Buxton and pick up the coach for London. He did not wish to arrive in Lady Caroline's private coach; public transport would suit him well.

They walked arm in arm through the door, while Ting carried little Isabelle. As he reached the waiting groom who held the horse, he lifted up his daughter and held her to his breast. For a moment he closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for the child he might never see again and then, with a kiss, he returned her to her maid.

Caroline watched with a sad smile. "Jack, I am returning to London tomorrow and then after a few days I will go on to West Sussex to visit Victoria- she has just given birth to her sixth child! They are down on the coast- Bognor Regis- it is only a little way from..."

"Portsmouth. It is indeed. Perhaps, Caroline, perhaps... for one night. Could I use the Melchetts to carry a message to you?"

"Indeed. Victoria knows all and is our strongest ally. Try, Jack, if only for one night. You will be gone soon enough, I fear!"

He bowed slightly and kissed her hand, rubbing it gently in his large palm. "Such a little hand. And yet it holds my heart, dear Caroline."

Caroline threw her arms around him and he swung her round, his head buried in her neck. Then, he returning her to the ground and took his leave. She watched as he rode away and breathed a deep sigh. The small cottage suddenly seemed larger without his presence; the lofty rooms rang with the silence and the distant echoes of his laughter and his deep booming voice. Never had quietness pained her ears so much.

"Good afternoon, my lady, such a pleasant day for a stroll down the Strand." Lady Sarah Tiverton glanced round in surprise at the sound of the unctuous voice.

"I beg your pardon, Sir? Do I know you?" She used her most haughty voice. This odd little man with his bony visage and ungainly body was quite repulsive and she knew well he was not a man of her acquaintance.

"I fear not - but you are known to me. I believe you are Lady Tiverton and you have just spent an afternoon of debauchery in the rooms of one Charles Butler, an equerry to your husband." Crabtree smiled mirthlessly at the lady who stood in shock, one kid-gloved hand raised to her mouth.

"How dare you!" She began but he cut her dead with a wave of his hand.

"Come, come, my dear...I have no interest in your petty affaires. Is this your carriage?" The woman nodded. "Then I will accompany you on your drive home. It seems there is a favour you can do for my master. I will explain..."

By the time the carriage rolled into the wide sweeping driveway of Tiverton House in Belgravia, the life and future of Sarah Tiverton had been thrown into turmoil. She was a twenty-two year old beauty, a former operatic singer, who had charmed Sir Francis, her seventy-year old libertine of a husband after he had seen her 'die' so prettily as the queen from Carthage in  Mr. Purcell's opera "Dido". Her marriage had raised her into the highest echelon of London society and she was a clever enough to have learned her part well. But the pathetic fumblings of her lecherous husband were hardly enough to satisfy a woman of her active libido and she had embarked upon a passionate and dangerous liaison with the handsome Butler. But if she were found out! Sir Francis was a man of fierce jealousy and temper and he would put her aside without remorse if he had reason to doubt her constancy. Was all her hard won status to be sacrificed for a penniless lover?

Lady Sarah sat at her dressing table and combed her raven hair. All she had to do was help to trap a man into her bed and furnish evidence of the congress to Mr. Crabtree who, it seemed was the secretary of no other than Lord Liverpool, the Prime Minister. He wished to have some means of controlling this man. Sarah knew that this was bribery, an unpleasant business, but it was of no concern to her. She had one chance to redeem herself and intended to take it. A roll in a bed with some unknown man held no fears for her- there was a time when that had been her calling.

A week later, Jack Aubrey entered the large mansion where the Prime Minister lived. He was somewhat surprised by the invitation to dine and imagined that it was some political matter for which his support was required- he was generally more than willing to vote in the House as directed, not being a man of a political nature.

It was a formal but intimate dinner and momentarily he wished that the invitation had included Sophie- how she would have enjoyed the occasion- but it would appear his provincial wife was not required in such august company. After a gathering in the library where champagne was served and hors d'oeuvres circulated on a silver platter, the company of about twenty diners were led into the dining room. Lord Jenkinson was in a good humour, had chatted with Jack about his recent action and congratulated him on his valiant service, but political issues had not so far been mentioned.

At table Jack found himself next to an old and rather deaf lady who seemed unwilling even to try to converse with him, so, after he had said the polite niceties, Jack turned to greet the woman on his left.

"Good evening, my dear...Captain Jack Aubrey..." Jack did not complete the sentence for at that moment the lady turned her head and he saw her face. She was quite, quite lovely. Her hair was a dark shimmering raven, piled high in cascades of curls and interwoven with a delicate golden silk ribbon. Her eyes were deep brown, flashing with promise and her fine features were etched to perfection as if made of porcelain. The lady's lips were full and rouged; her skin was flawless. But the best treat of all was her bosom that heaved gracefully, scarce contained by the delicate silk of her gown.

"Captain Aubrey...not the famous Captain Jack Aubrey, surely! Oh, how delighted I am to make your acquaintance, sir!" Her voice tinkled like a little brook tumbling in a mountain gulley- clear, sweet and fresh.

"The same, ma'am. At least, I believe I am the only Aubrey although I cannot claim to any real fame. Infamy perhaps," he laughed gaily.

Sarah threw back her head and giggled most charmingly at his words. "So droll, sir, so droll." Jack was a little surprised. His witty comments were rarely so well-received.

"Thank you, madam. May I have the honour of your acquaintance?"

"Pardon me, sir, but I forget myself. You have quite made me mislay my manners! I am Lady Tiverton, but you may call me Sarah. That is my husband over there next to Admiral Gambier- the old, ugly and cantankerous fellow."

Jack's eyes followed her indication and he saw Lord Tiverton. It was hard to imagine the couple together and the very notion made Jack shudder. Another delicate young woman sold to the highest bidder; another sad woman like Caroline who was expected to endure life with a man she did not love. His heart immediately gave out to Sarah Tiverton.

"Commend me to your husband, dear lady," Jack replied with courtesy.

Sarah smiled sadly. "It is a marriage of little but convenience. I fear I shall never enjoy the ...company of a real man. But I am secure and have my reputation to be proud of. Are you a married man, sir?"

"I am indeed, ma'am. Mrs. Aubrey and I have been married some nine years now. We have three children."

"Most commendable, sir, and you so often away from home, too! You have certainly made the most of your leave." Lady Tiverton spoke politely but the implication of her words was there. Jack coughed a little uneasily and hid his confusion by filling the lady's glass with Claret.

Sarah reached over to accept the drink and allowed her right hand to fall on Jack's knee, brushing lightly against it and veering towards his groin. The sudden unexpected contact made Jack jump and he almost spilled the glass before it reached the lady's waiting hand.

"Beg pardon, ma'am..." he began but their eyes met and he saw her look. It was a come hither gaze, one that he had received before in his time and he knew its meaning instantly.

"Not at all, my dear, Captain. I am most pleased to see how swiftly you react. I wonder how quickly you would stand to my attention in a more intimate surrounding?"

The offer was clear. There could be no doubt. Lady Sarah Tiverton was giving him an overt invitation to her body; Jack shuffled uneasily in his chair.

 At that moment the call for the ladies to withdraw gave Jack some thinking space. He rose and held out his hand to help her to her feet, she lightly stroked his palm most sensually and flashed her velvet brown eyes at him. He felt a small card placed in his hand and closed his fist around it.

"Good evening, sir," Lady Tiverton announced and Jack bowed as she took her leave. As he bent his head, he turned the card over in his hand and read:

Tomorrow afternoon at 2pm. 14, Mews Lane, Holborn. The upper floor.

Jack gazed in shock at this open offer of congress with this beautiful woman. But something made him stop and think. She had been prepared for this. Either she had hoped to meet him or was prepared to play games with any man who took her fancy. So what harm was that? The lady was determined to cuckold her husband - was it his concern? Yet...what if this was something else? Jack had grown more circumspect of late since the dreadful affair of the Stock Exchange. He distrusted 'accidental' meetings and fortuitous coincidence. He was a happily married man and he had Caroline, his beautiful Caroline...but Lady Tiverton was fair and available...what man can fight that temptation if freely offered?

It was late in the afternoon when Caroline's coach had reached the house after a long and dusty journey. Helped down by one of her footmen, she swept into the impressive house but saw only a cold and unfriendly place, dead and devoid of light. Shaking her melancholy from her, Caroline supervised as her luggage was brought in and her baby daughter was taken to the nursery. Then she called for a bath to be drawn and prepared to take a quiet evening in her chambers and retire early.

As she began to mount the stairs, she heard her husband's voice: "Lady, you are returned. Have you no mind to greet your husband?"

Caroline turned and saw Sir William standing at the foot of the stairs, his critical eye on her and his sour face even sourer than usual. She bowed slightly and returned down the stairs. "Forgive me, Sir William but it has been a long day. I was preparing to retire early."

He placed his hands behind his back. "I expect you at dinner. We dine at seven of the clock. Be prompt, madam."

"Do we have dinner guests?" Caroline asked, bemused at his request. They rarely dined together if alone.

"Just the two of us, my dear. A romantic reunion after your confinement and convalescence. It is high time we returned to our marital harmony. Until then, madam." Sir William inclined his head and withdrew back to his study. Caroline felt the first chill of concern. What had he meant by his words? Surely, he was not going to resume relations with her - not that after all this time?

As the clock chimed seven, Lady Caroline glided into the dining room where her husband was already seated. She stopped, awaiting his greeting, but he neither rose nor welcomed her, just nodded for her to take her seat. She was not insensitive to the insult.

They ate without speaking, the servants laying courses and removing them with practised ease but the awful silence, broken only by the clink of cutlery on plate, the crackle of the fire in the grate or the ticking of the clock seemed to become deafening noises. At times Caroline felt like smashing her plate and screaming at this cold-hearted man who tormented her so. But she said nothing, as she had long ago learnt to do, and played with her food disconsolately.

When the last course was removed, Caroline began to excuse herself. "If I may, sir..."

"Sit down!" Sir William's voice was harsh and curt. Caroline flopped back into her seat. "I wish to speak to you on the matter of your daughter's bastardy."

Caroline's heart almost stopped. Her hand flew to her mouth but she struggled to compose herself and not give him the satisfaction of the reaction he desired.

"I do not know what you mean, sir," she replied.

"Oh you don't, don't you? You have whelped two pups, madam, neither which were mine. It suited me to claim William John but I warned you if you whored again I would not tolerate it. I have evidence against you, madam, enough to destroy you and ruin your brat's name. And I will do it, make no mistake. But first I wish to make you pay. And you will pay- for what you have done to me these past years."

His voice, cold and menacing, rasped through the large wooden-panelled room. Caroline did not move a muscle. Proof? What proof could he have? He was lying. Trying to break her with his suspicions. She would not speak.

"I have nothing to say, sir. Nor do I wish to listen to your cruel jibes further." Caroline stood up and began to walk for the door, her head held high.

"Say? There is nothing you can say to excuse your wanton behaviour. I am your husband- do not turn your back on me, madam!"

Caroline spun round on her heels, a fierce burning red spot on her cheeks. "Husband? You are no true husband to me, sir! You have never given me one moment of affection or love in all our years of marriage. You have not even taken your marital rights for many a long year- how can you be my husband? If I have loved someone else, a real man, it was only to feel the passion that you have denied me. You are not a man- you are some manner of eunuch without the least understanding of what marriage is about!" And at that she stormed from the room.

Sir William leapt from his chair, furious beyond words. She had admitted it! She had taunted his manhood and waved her immorality in his face. A terrible anger took hold of him and he lurched towards the door. As he did, his eyes alighted on his riding crop. Snatching it up, he charged up the stairs after her.

Caroline ran for the safety off her bedchamber, her heart pounding and tears pricking her eyes. She cried out for Jack in her mind, knowing how he would defend her from anything if he could and yet hopelessly realising that there was nothing that could be done. Jack could never be her valiant hero, no matter how much she dreamed he might. She cared little for what she might lose but he must never, ever be put at risk by what they had done. That was her only satisfaction- that he was safe from scandal.

Throwing herself on her bed, she wept for frustration at her plight. She did not hear the door open until her husband was upon her. His hand reached out and dragged her across the bed, thrusting her into the coverlet as he ripped the buttons of her dress and pulled it from her.

"NO!" Caroline screamed in shock, but he merely straddled her and carried on with his violence. Once she was lying stripped naked to the waist before him, he picked up the discarded crop and with savage blows he whipped it across her back.

"Take that, you whore! You have been a ride for countless men... then you deserve the whip like any mare..." Her sobs fell on stony ground - he was impervious to her entreaties or cries. When he had tired himself and her back was lashed with welts and livid bruises, blood running down like crimson tears, he pulled her up and spat into her face: "Tell me his name! Say it!"

"I will never speak his name to you! Never!" Caroline screamed.

He raised the back of his hand and brought it across her face, full forced. She reeled backwards from the blow, a bruise already forming on her cheek but still she stared at him in defiance.

"I love him. I honour him. I would die rather than give him away!" 

 Something snapped in Sir William. Like most weak men of limited ability he was capable of malevolence if his thin veneer of propriety was breached. With a manic cry, he threw his wife on the bed, raised her skirts, ripped off her linens and bared her sex. Caroline tried to fight, screamed for help- but who could respond? Ting sat in the adjoining room with her fingers in her ears to block the pitiful screams of pain and terror as her beloved mistress was violated in her own bed by her own husband. She wondered at the terrible lot of women and thanked the goddess that she had been spared such truck with men.

Sir William stumbled to his feet and wiped the spittle from his face. He rearranged his breeches and stared at the damage he had done. It brought the first smile to his face that he had experienced in many years. "Think on your sin now, madam. I do not need to know his name. He is John Aubrey and you are his strumpet. He has been tupping you for years but he will never do so again. I have made arrangements for your captain. He will never roger you nor ever see a ship again. I have hired men to kill him and they will. Painfully and slow. And then I will divorce you. The whole world shall know your crime and you shall lose your son!"

Jack sat over his lunch at his club and ate morosely, deep in thought. He took the card out from the pocket of his waistcoat and read the contents for the fiftieth time. Tapping it against the edge of his plate he came to a decision. He was no longer a libidinous young man who followed the call of his breeches. He had Sophie and Caroline and was the father of six children (that he knew about) - surely that was more than enough for any man?

He held the card to the candle on his table and let it burn away. Calling for his bill, he settled his account and asked for a carriage. His business in London was completed; it was time to return home to Ashgrove.

While Jack Aubrey caught the stage for Portsmouth, Sarah Tiverton paced the rooms in Holborn. Wringing her hands she prayed that he would come and enable her to save herself. But he did not come. What was she to do? They wanted evidence of his adultery with her. How could she contrive it if he did not come? Then Lady Sarah had an idea. It came to her in a flash and then she realised that it was an incident from a play that she had once acted in. Throwing on her cloak, she ordered her coachman to Bond Street and there she alighted at the door of Magrit and sons, jewellers. She browsed through his collection until she found just the thing. A locket. She asked the jeweller's assistant to engrave it thus:

To my lovely Sarah, with gratitude for the pleasure I have known in your arms.               

J.A.

Now all she needed was a lock of yellow hair for a keepsake. It would not be hard to find some whore who would give her a curl for a price- and who would know the difference?

It was early in the morning when Stephen Maturin rose and began to dress. His wife, Diana, lay languidly in the bed, still sighing from the love they had made in the dawn light. He was not a man given to amorous adventures but he loved this woman with all his heart and she had taught him much of the matters of Venus. He was unsure if he satisfied her as other men might have done but she seemed to be well content as she lay basking in the aftermath of pleasure.

He rushed through, half dressed, and his wife leapt out of bed, her naked perfection momentarily catching his breath as she carelessly shrugged on a gown. "Just wait a moment, Stephen! I hope you do not think you are leaving the house dressed like this?"

Stephen looked at himself. He was in his usual garb- black sober clothes were his favoured attire. "I beg your pardon, Diana?"

She groaned. "Your shirt needs laundering- it is covered in last night's soup! And that cravat! Change this instant! But before you do, call your man to shave you and powder your wig. You really are a disgrace at times, sir. I despair of you!" But she laughed and shook her head; Stephen sighed and complied with her instructions.

After a hurried breakfast, Stephen spent some time with his infant daughter and took his leave of his wife. He had business long overdue in Ireland and was due to catch the morning coach for Bristol to take the packet to Cork. He would be away a week or two. They came together in the morning room, sharing a moment of real closeness when they embraced and showed the depth of their true feeling. They had been friends for years but time had deepened that to love. Stephen Maturin was still unsure why this brilliant lady could feel any passion for a man such as he. But she had taught him not to wonder, just to accept the vagaries of the human heart.

Diana watched his coach depart, sighed and returned to her study where she busied herself with her correspondence. An hour or so later, she heard a ring at the doorbell and tutted. Who would come calling at such an early hour? She wasn't even presentable. Whoever it was, she would send them away.

A maid entered silently and bobbed her curtsey. "Ma'am." She proffered the silver salver on which lay a calling card. Diana picked it up and read the name with surprise.

Caroline, Duchess of Barsetshire.

As everyone in London, England probably too, Diana Maturin was familiar with this famous lady's name. She also knew her slightly in an entirely different circumstance. Many years ago, when Caroline had been but a girl, Diana had stolen her beau from her, one Lord Leverdale, a handsome roué who had been courting the girl for her fortune. She wondered if the lady still remembered her girlish disappointment.

Curiosity prevented Diana from refusing the lady's visit. Standing to check her hair at the mirror, Diana, smoothed down her velvet robe and moistened her lips. "Send her ladyship into the parlour. I shall be there anon."

Diana swept into her parlour and gazed upon the Duchess. The woman was swathed in a long velvet cloak and her face was covered by a veil which extended from her hat. She stood still and impassive across the room; Diana was intrigued.

"My dear Duchess! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Diana began extending a hand.

Caroline gave a slight squeeze of her elegant fingers, shod in grey kid glove. "I must apologise most profoundly for disturbing you at this early hour but it is imperative that I speak with your husband, Dr.Maturin, with the utmost haste."

Diana clapped her hands. "Oh my dear, you have just missed him! He has departed for Ireland and will not be back for several weeks. Can I be of any assistance?"

Diana did not expect the response and was shocked when it occurred. Lady Stanhope gasped and uttered a stifled whimper; she began to sob. "Oh no, no, no. My last chance! Oh what shall I do?"

Hesistant, Diana advanced and put her arms around the Duchess's slender shoulders. "Whatever is the matter, my lady?" She felt a slight cringing away from her arm as if the lady was in pain.

"Forgive me. I must leave. Thank you for your forbearance, Mrs. Maturin, I am so sorry to have troubled you."

The Duchess turned to go but Diana called her back. "Whatever it is, my lady, you can count on my discretion. A problem shared is a problem halved, they say. Sit down and we shall take tea and you shall tell me all about it."

A bitter laugh sounded from the veiled woman. "Would that it were so, my dear Mrs. Maturin! This story would not be eased by a thousand tellings."

"Then it must concern a man, for I know of no other matter in this life that could bring a woman to this pass. Lady Caroline- I must advise you that my husband does not procure abortions, if that is why you are here."

Caroline shook her head. "I would never ask such a thing! But you are right. It does concern a man." Diana observed her walk rather stiffly towards the door and it suddenly occurred to her that the woman was in acute pain.

"Please, stay. If you thought my husband was the answer to your troubles then I will endeavour to take his place. You can trust me, my lady, I assure you."

Caroline stopped at the door. "Can I? Is there anyone in this world that I can trust save him?" She turned and seemed to have made up her mind. Raising her hands she lifted the veil and Diana cried out at the sight of her face. Her eye was closed and her cheek purple with bruises; her lip had been split.

"Oh my Lord! What has happened to you?" Diana gasped.

"I angered my husband." Caroline sat down carefully on a high-winged chair and composed herself. "I am here to save a man's life. A man I love with all my heart and would fain protect from anything if I could.  Mrs. Maturin, I have a lover with whom I have had a relationship for eight years. He is the father of both of my children and my husband has discovered our secret. He has sworn to kill him."

"A duel?"

Caroline laughed sadly. "Would that it were! My Jack would fell him with one shot! No, he has commissioned hired assassins - my husband may be a coward but he is no fool."

A cold hand gripped Diana's heart. "Jack? Did you say Jack? Is that the name of your lover?" Many men were called Jack- it was merely a coincidence, it could not mean...

"Jack, yes, Jack...my lover is Captain John Aubrey with whom your husband sails."

Diana Maturin thought she had seen all that life had to offer in the way of surprises, knew all the frailties of the human heart, but even she was stopped in her tracks. "You are the mistress of Captain John Aubrey? He fathered your children? It is impossible...I cannot believe it..."

Caroline stopped and smiled. "You must know Jack well and I am sure you know his wife and children too. Forgive me. Please do not judge him. We have tried to keep this a secret. We have struggled to keep away from each other...but it is impossible. I do not ask for your forgiveness, but I need your help. I know how my behaviour must appear to virtuous women."

A sadness descended on Diana, borne of her own mistakes and failings. This woman had loved one man and yet was condemned to appear a wanton. How cruel the world could be.

"I do not judge you; I have no right. My own life is chequered with ill-advised liaisons where I bartered myself for money not for love. If you have loved Jack Aubrey then you have loved a fine man with a great heart. He would not give his love away lightly, this I know." Diana remembered a young lusty Jack and the pleasure she had known in his arms. She also thought of his wife, her cousin Sophie, and her confidences about her difficulty with the physical side of marriage. Diana had always wondered how a man like Jack had coped- now she knew. He might be an affectionate and dutiful husband but he had found his emotional needs elsewhere- who could blame a man of Jack's sanguine nature? At least he had never really been a whoremonger- not since his early youth.

"Jack is in danger- mortal danger- and your husband is the only one I think I can trust." Caroline's desperate plea broke into Diana's musings.

"Danger? What do to you mean?"

Caroline gave an account of her encounter at the hands of Sir William the night before. Mrs. Maturin, who had witnessed and experienced many times the cruelty of men towards women was still shocked at the nature of the tale. She knew at once that this was no hysterical female exaggerating her plight. Caroline Stanhope was not that calibre of woman and these were no ordinary events.

Diana thought hard. "There is someone else who may be of use to us. Are you familiar with Sir Joseph Blaine?"

"Indeed, a charming man. I have met him socially," Caroline asserted.

"He knows Jack well and has been his champion before. He will be on his side, have no fear. Are you sure your husband would go so far as to have Jack killed? Perhaps it was an idle threat? A moment of madness?"

Caroline shook her head. "If my face is not proof enough of his malevolence then see this. Please help me!" The Duchess removed her cloak and turned her back, attempting to undo the buttons of her dress. Diana ran to her aid and in horror she laid bare the vicious wounds that had rent her delicate back.

"This is monstrous! Your husband beat you?"

"He flogged me with a riding crop- but he did worse than that. Diana...he violated me in the most shameful manner... in an unspeakable way..."

Diana paled at her words. "Jack would tear his heart out if he knew!"

Caroline nodded. "That is why he must never know. Jack would do surely do something foolish- and hang for it at Tyburn- you know how he is!"

For the first time the two women smiled, a rueful but fond smile. They both knew Jack Aubrey very well. It was exactly what he would do - with no thought for his own welfare or of how it might reflect on him and his family. He would only see the desperate need to defend the honour of a fine and much loved woman.

Diana sat down and raised a hand. "Give me a moment to think." She remained still and thoughtful for a while and then clapped her hands on her knees, stood up, and went into action.

"Firstly, we must get you to a place of safety. Is there anyone who would shelter you?"

"Yes, my friend Victoria Melchett. I was planning a visit to attend her confinement and it will not appear amiss. She lives at Bognor Regis- her husband is an MP and colonel- they will protect me. They are the only people who know about my...lover and my children."

"And your children? Jack's children?" Diana found it hard to say the words- another family! Jack had another family! Did Stephen know? Had he kept this from her all these years?

"My son is at school at Eton. He is safe- Sir William means him to be his heir.  I am to lose him when he divorces me," Diana heard the breaking of her voice. To lose one's child was a terrible thing for anyone, and the public nature of this divorce would destroy her reputation permanently.

"It may not come to that. There are always ways to solve even the most intractable of problems. Do not give up hope- in despair lies failure. How would Jack respond? He is a man who will never say die, no matter what odds are stacked against him."

Caroline nodded her head and swallowed hard to compose herself. "My daughter is in the carriage outside with my maidservant. I dared not leave her at home for fear of what he might do!"

"Dear lady! That is unconscionable! Bring the child in and she can go to the nursery to be with my daughter." Diana summoned her personal ladies' maid and gave instructions. "So you will leave now for the south coast. Give me the address so that I may contact you."

The Duchess was handed a piece of paper and a pen, she wrote the details down.

"But what of Jack? I care not for myself. Sir William can do his worst! But Jack must not suffer- and what of his wife and children! I cannot bear to hurt them. I bear them no ill will!" Her panic was rising and Diana poured her a glass of brandy.

"Drink this. You are still in shock. Jack is at Ashgrove. He has some of his men with him there and they will be a match for any ne'er-do-wells that think to do him harm. But he must be warned- men such as these will wait for their chance. I will do three things. First to Ashgrove under the pretext of a visit: Sophie will suspect nothing. I will inform Jack and suggest he manufactures a reason to get to sea- he will no doubt have some colleague with a ship to sail, perhaps to the Mediterranean for a few weeks, until we have sorted out this problem. At sea he is safe- no one can touch a man like Captain Aubrey in the bosom of the Navy. I will also send to Stephen to return post haste, and, in the meanwhile, I will get word to Sir Joseph to see what measures he can employ to intercede. Has your husband any enemies of his own? Have you any partisans who might aid you? You are an influential woman, Lady Caroline. Think!"

"The Prime Minister, Lord Liverpool. He is...taken with me and has long been pursuing my favour. We are friends, no more, but I am sure that he would assist me should I ask. I will write to him and ask him to intercede. He knows the child is not his, so I do not need to implicate Jack, but he may have the power to stay my husband's hand."

Diana sighed with relief. "Good, so we attack on many fronts. Jack would be proud of these tactics. It is much as he might do at sea!" Diana made an attempt at a joke but she knew it fell on deaf ears. The gay, bright Duchess, famous for her wit and personality, no less her beauty, was a shadow of her usual self, a wan and pitiful sight. What horror she had endured and may still be waiting for her! With an unusual burst of affection, Diana gently pulled the woman into her arms and held her to her bosom. Tears came, wracking sobs, shudders that almost broke Diana's heart. If she needed any proof of this woman's love for Jack, she had it now.

It was with a dull ache in her heart that Mrs Maturin took her farewell and sent the Duchess and her tiny baby on their way. The little girl, Isabelle, was a beautiful child, white blonde fluff for hair and startling baby blue eyes. There was little doubt of her parentage.

"Why, Diana, for all love! What brings you here unannounced! An unexpected pleasure- Sophie will be delighted! Let's get you down." Jack swung her from the post-chaise and gave a hand to the nurse who carried her daughter, Brigid, a child of a year old. He immediately claimed the little girl and swept her up; the child gurgled with amusement and showed no fear- despite Jack's imposing stature, children were often drawn to him, recognising his innate good heartedness. He also seemed to attract the attention of dogs and other animals, too, mostly an embarrassment to him.

Sophie ran from the house, wiping her hands on her apron. "You wicked girl! You should have sent word! I have nothing special prepared for you!" The cousins, now firm friends, embraced and much fuss was made of the child.

"Fie, fie- she is only a babe. They do little but mewl and fill their wrappings. I do declare they are the most noisome of creatures!" But despite Diana's protestations, her joy in her child was clear for all to see.

The party moved merrily to the house, Sophie chasing Jack off to dress with more decorum than the worn, patched breeches and the faded shirt he wore, unshaven and his hair unplaited. "You are disgrace, sir! Never would you appear on deck like that except in the direst of emergencies! And here at home you dress like a scrub. Off with you and repair the damage!" Jack grinned and meekly obeyed, never one to oppose his wife in anything on the rare occasions that he spent any length of time at home.

In the parlour, the two women sat down, chased off the girls who had come to see the baby and told them to take her into the garden with her nanny for some air. Georgie politely announced his good wishes but seemed relieved to be dismissed. Alone, Sophie asked for news and Diana, as controlled as she knew how to be, chatted about family matters and little bits of idle gossip while every minute she longed to begin the task that she had been sent to do.

At last, Sophie excused herself to attend to dinner and left Diana to walk in the garden. There she was joined by Jack, now spruced up and wearing a decent set of clothes, as befitted a gentleman, landowner and MP, not to mention a post captain of the highest reputation, on leave.

"It is good to see you, Diana, my dear! What of Stephen? He was to go to Ireland, was he not?"

"Indeed he left this morning, Jack." Diana looked about and ascertained that they were not overheard. "May we walk to the orchard? I need to speak to you most confidentially."

Jack nodded and smiled, opening the small gate and allowing her to pass through before him. When he had rejoined her, she began.

"Jack, what I am about to say, I wish that I did not know. Be assured that your secret is safe with me and I will be of any assistance that I can be to aid you in what is to come."

Jack looked sharply at Diana, at first confused, a slight frown of puzzlement on his face. Then suddenly a more calculating light appeared in his eye and Diana saw that other Jack, the steely resolute officer who would not be crossed.

"I am not sure I smoke your meaning, my dear." But his uncertain attempt at a smile showed her that he suspected the truth very well.

"You and the Duchess of Barsetshire have been lovers for many years and have two children. This I know, please do not deny it." Diana spoke clearly and with a firm tone; there was no time for useless denials.

Jack looked away and exhaled sharply, as if he had been stabbed by a sudden pain. Diana continued. "The Duke has discovered your identity and intends to do you grievous harm. Jack, he has hired assassins to kill you and will then make the matter public when he divorces Lady Caroline."

"How do you know this?" He spoke in a quiet monotone, unlike the usual blustery baritone of his deep commanding voice.

"I have spoken to the Duchess."

"Ah, the Duchess," he replied and then pursed his mouth as if afraid to say anymore. Diana noted his stance, hands behind his back and ramrod straight. She recognised his attempt to deal with what must be a shattering blow that could not only end his life, but ruin his name and Lady Caroline's into the bargain, not to mention the bitter blow to Sophie and the children.

"Jack, I make no judgement. It is your own affair and I understand your reasons. I know that for a man like you....Sophie has confided in me the unsatisfactory nature of your physical relationship..."

He turned and stared, an inscrutable expression on his face, unreadable, unfamiliar. "You know nothing of my relationship with the Duchess, nor shall you. If I wanted a mere romp in another's woman's bed- she would not be the woman that I should go to."

Diana bowed her head. "I did not mean to imply..."

"I am sorry, Diana, forgive me!" Suddenly the Jack she knew returned. He ran his hands down his face in a gesture of hopelessness. "I am an insufferable cad to speak to you like that! Lord! It is all my fault. I will destroy Caroline, my wife and children, too, with the results of my libidinous passion. How could I have brought them all to this?" She saw the pallor of his face beneath the ruddy tan. Jack was not a man for cowardice or self-pity but she understood the profound fear the news had brought to him. Not for his own life- his own safety had not even occurred to him, where most men would be shaking in their boots- but the knowledge that he might bring down the world of those he loved, his women and children, was tearing him apart.

"Listen to me, Jack! Send Bonden for Stephen and he will work with Sir Joseph- there must be something to be done before the scandal is known. Caroline has already asked for Lord Liverpool to intervene on her behalf. We may yet stop this cataclysm! But we must all be firm of heart! Today, you must leave here- take your men and get passage out of England. Stephen will contact you when he is sure you are safe."

Jack looked at Diana curiously. "Run away? Madam, you suggest I run away and leave women to bear the brunt of my sin? Know you nothing of the kind of man I am?" She saw his anger surface, and was glad of it, but feared he might do something foolish.

"For all our sakes you must be safe! No one can be sure of preventing an assassin's stiletto on a dark night- even you! What use is it to offer yourself as a sacrificial victim? And there is no sin! You have loved a woman for many years and she has loved you. Where is the sin in true love?"

"I am a married man. I love my wife. I am in breach of all the vows I made to her. One day, I knew I would pay for my illicit love. But I did not think the innocent ones would suffer." Jack's face was wracked with anguish. "Where is Caroline? Has he harmed her? Is she safe?"

Diana placed a restraining hand on his arm. "She is with her friends the Melchetts. You know of them?"

"Yes indeed, a fine couple. They live in West Sussex. I was planning to visit Caroline and Isabelle there... you know of my daughter?"

"A beautiful child. I saw her this morning. Jack- you must stay away from Caroline. She may be watched and contact with her could bring her harm or even worse for you. She has begged me to tell you not to act rashly. She will not see you. You must not go to her."

"Will not see me? But I must see her! I must know she is well. I cannot bear for her to be in this distress..."

"Jack, think! Do not act on impulse! Do not make things worse than they are already. Protect yourself and know that she is safe. I promise you- Caroline and your daughter are well. Your son is at school and Sir William still means to claim him as his own. As such, he will be inviolate and his name and fortune unimpaired."

"Inviolate? When his mother is accused of adultery and of foisting an illegitimate child on her husband? How will that help a young boy to hold his head up in the world?" Diana knew that he was right. Scandal would cloud the boy's name once his mother's reputation was raked through the mud. Such was the raging appetite for gossip in their social milieu.

At that moment, Sophie came into the garden to look for them and they both struggled to affect a jovial demeanour. In a hushed whisper, Diana said, "I have a note for Bonden to take to Stephen. I will despatch him right away. I beg you, think on your safety!" Excusing herself to Sophie, pleading that she required to change and take a short rest, Diana withdrew. Then she found Bonden cleaning brasses in the kitchen, gave him instructions and a sum of money; a mention of danger directed towards the Captain's person was enough to win his determined trust. He would not let his master down.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Diana mustered all her reserves and put up a front of being her usual merry self. Sophie seemed not to notice the forced smile and the over-played gaiety, so pleased was she to see her friend. Jack was quieter than usual but the chatter of the two women masked his lack of involvement. At an appropriate time, he excused himself and went outside where he spent time alone in his observatory.

His mind ranged over the events of the last few years. He should never have taken up with Caroline again. She had been safe then. Could they have remained apart once they had found each other? It was more than he could countenance. Impossible. Caroline was as much part of his life as Sophie, his life at sea, his children. She had been his passion and his secret desire since the first time that he had ever laid eyes on her. Some things lay in your fate and were incontrovertible and immoveable. He might die at sea. It was unavoidable. He loved two women. It was meant to be.

What should he do? He must face his responsibility. But Diana was wrong. He must see Caroline and ascertain that she was really strong enough to bear the possible tempest; at least if he came to her, he might be able to give her some reassurance, hold her, show her that the gift of love they had shared was greater than the cost. But did he really believe that?  If Sophie was to stand before him with the light of knowledge in her eyes, what could he say in response that could possibly explain away the pain she would have to endure at his long and ultimately unrepentant infidelity?

But how could he leave Caroline alone to face this calamity? What had her husband done? How was she faring? What tears she must have shed? 'I must go to her. I must at least know that she is safe. She must not bear the brunt of this alone!'

Calling for Killick to prepare a small travelling bag, he roused the men quartered with him, from their evening rum-fuelled lethargy and informed them that they were setting out on a journey at first light. By the time he returned to Sophie, the women had retired for the night and he came up quietly to join her. She was sitting by her dresser brushing her hair out and humming softly to herself, the soft pale gold gleaming in the candlelight. Jack stood in the doorway, one hand high on the frame, the other resting on his hip, and observed his wife, his dear, dear Sophie.

"Jack!" Sophie had caught his reflection in the mirror. "Where have you been hiding? I suppose our girlish chatter had little to commend itself to you. Or were you leaving us a modicum of space in which to talk about you men and all your annoying habits!"

She giggled and gave him a flirtatious glance, flicking her eyes over his person, a rare moment of physical intimacy in her gaze. "Come...to bed. You look tired and...in need of comfort, Jack. Join me." Sophie blew out the candle and walked to the bed, her long, white nightgown billowing about her slender frame in the window's draught, the silhouette of her nakedness outlined.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his boots and stockings as she watched him quietly, a slight tension mounting in the air. He wanted her and, in her way, she wanted him, too, but those rare times when they shared their marriage union always seemed fraught with unease. He feared he offended her, scared her if he became too passionate - and he suspected that she felt no pleasure in the act itself, although his closeness and his touch were some compensation. He always felt she gave him her body merely because she loved him and his pleasure was enough reward for her. If only he was able to show her how love might be when men and women truly offer their bodies as a gift to one another.

Jack pulled his shirt from him and began to remove his breeches and his linens; Sophie's hand swept lightly down his back and he half turned to look at her in the candle glow. His beautiful, gentle wife, so faithful and loyal! He slipped beneath the covers to join her and she opened her arms to welcome him in.

His hand slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown to wander along her slim white legs. Sophie uttered a little sigh and stroked back his hair as he kissed and caressed her, nuzzled at her breasts and brought her to a level of arousal which would enable him to enter her without pain. She did not initiate anything overtly sexual, would not allow him to kiss her intimate parts, nor would she willingly touch his manhood unless he asked her to do so. But she would lie still in his arms and whisper words of love and encouragement while he took his ease- but there was always an emptiness that made the act seem like self-indulgence on his part. He was left a little ashamed when he spent and trembled in her warm embrace, as if he were a child who could not help himself.

"Hush, Jack...Diana might hear..." she quietened the deep groan his surrender brought forth.

He pulled away and rolled back to lie on the bolster, hands above his head. "Diana would be happier if she heard two voices cry out in the night! Sophie...can I never give you joy in our union?"

She snuggled into his chest and he gathered her in. "You give me joy in all parts of our life together. I love your body in my way. It is enough for me. You are my pride and joy, my precious Jack. I would do anything for you. There is no greater comfort to me than when I feel you take your pleasure in me," she smiled.

But it was far from what he had meant and he realised she would never understand. In his mind's eye, he saw a different woman, wild and helpless in his arms, moaning and arching, unable to stem the raging appetite she had for every part of him, each movement of their congress like a sexual dance of desire and fulfilment, pain and pleasure. Sensation to drive a man and woman insane and take away their reason. To drive them to risk all they held dear for another stolen moment. How could Sophie ever in this life understand that emotion?

"Tomorrow morning I must go to London. I have some business that has just arisen. I shall try to be back within the week," he muttered as he rolled on to his side to sleep.

Sophie sat up and pulled him back to her. "Business? But you have only just returned! Oh, Jack! Please, do not tarry long or get caught with dinner invitations and the club. We have so little time together!"

He patted her arm and she lay in the crook of his. "I know, dear heart. I know." And in saying that he blew out the candle and lay thinking, listening to the rise and fall of his wife's soft breath as she slept, but awake and restless himself, even sexual completion for once failing to send him into slumber.

The next morning after a long ride across country on a warm late September day, Jack found Melchett House, a handsome pale yellow stone building typical of the area, standing in its own deer park. He was received by a liveried servant and led into a library where he waited while he was announced on presentation of his card. There was a long delay; he stared out of the window to the sea view in the distance. Part of him longed to do as Diana asked- to run away to sea as he had done so many times before when life on the land proved too much of a challenge for him.

Upstairs, the scene was very different. In Lady Victoria's parlour adjacent to her bedchamber, where children of every age seemed to be running through constantly with demands and requests, Caroline paced back and forth, wringing her hands and tearing at her golden curls, while Victoria beseeched her.

"See him, Caroline! He must be frantic. You cannot spurn him at a time like this. Dear God, it may be the last time....."

"Do not say it! Do not say it! I am not spurning him! Do you not know what it is costing me to know that he is but a floor away? When every part of me longs to fly to him and hide in his strong arms? Look at me! My face alone and he would tear my husband limb from limb with his bare hands- and if he knew the rest! He must not see me! He must go and save himself. Victoria- I beg you, speak with him. Make him see sense!"

She was crying again. It was a wonder that she had tears left to shed. Victoria nodded and went to the door. Then she returned and picked up Isabelle from a cradle. "I shall take his daughter. He has a right to see his own child." Caroline bowed her assent and watched them go.

Moments later, Lady Victoria entered the library, followed by a maidservant, clutching the small baby to her voluminous breast- it had been necessary to find a wet nurse promptly- poor Caroline's milk had dried up with the shock of her ill-treatment. Although still an attractive woman, Victoria's girlish slenderness had gone and she was now round and bonny. Jack turned as she entered and she saw him and recognised his distress. Gone was the sunny, smiling captain with his unfailing courtesy and good humour. Instead she saw a sombre, stern faced man with the air of command and a hint of uncontrolled rage in his eyes.

"Good afternoon, Captain Aubrey. May I offer you some tea? Or perhaps something stronger?"

"Thank you, madam. I would be grateful for a glass of Madeira." She poured one and handed it to him.

"Have you eaten, sir?"

"I have no appetite. But thank you for your concern. I believe the Duchess of Barsetshire is here as a house guest? I would like to speak to her if I may."

Lady Victoria indicated that he should sit on a large high-backed armchair by the fireplace and she took a seat opposite. "The Duchess is here but is not receiving visitors, sir. She is indisposed."

Jack stared stonily at the lady. "How so? How is she indisposed?"

"A woman's matter. It is a minor ailment but she is resting."

He looked to the floor and ran his hands down his thighs. Silence hovered in the room, broken only by the tick tock of the large grandfather time piece on one wall. "I do not believe you, madam, and insist that I may be allowed to see her. Indisposed or not, it is of no consequence to me."

"Indeed, that may be your opinion. But Lady Caroline does not wish to see you. I beg of you to accept that and not to make an embarrassing scene. I have my footmen close by. They will not stand for any unseemly behaviour in my home." Victoria spoke formally but her tone was softer. She wanted so much to tell him how her heart went out to both of them in this disaster; but she kept her counsel.

"I have your daughter here, however. Perhaps you would like to see her?"

Jack glanced over to the child and Victoria saw the sudden flare of warmth in his eyes. He took the little girl and stood up, walking back to the window, talking and cooing gently to his baby. Her heart felt sore at the sight of this good man and the pain they were both enduring.

Whilst he played with his daughter, her tiny hands gripping one of his solid fingers as if it were a wooden beam, Jack asked Victoria, "Tell me how she is. Did he hurt her?"

"She is unharmed," lied Victoria, her heart pounding.

"Will you take care of them?" His voice betrayed him: a husky quality burring the deep sound.

"We shall be honoured to do so, sir."

Jack nodded and kissed his Isabelle on her tiny forehead, returning her to the maid.

"What will you do, sir?"

"What can I do but face it? I shall not run like a guilty coward. I shall try to make the best I can of the sorry mess. I intend to visit the Duke and resolve the issue if it can be done. Failing that- I must speak to my wife and prepare her for the worst."

"No!" Victoria ran to him and took his arm. "Sir, I beg you. I implore. Do not go to London! He has hired men to kill you! He will not speak rationally!"

"I would like to see them try. I have four of my finest crew men with me- the five of us are match for any blades who creep upon us in the dark of the night. I fear no knife in the back, my dear."

"Caroline will worry if she hears of your plan. She is despairing as it is. Do not give her more for her to bear! She dies for love for you!"

Jack grimaced at her words. "I would spare her all if I but could. Love? She knows not how I love and long for her! I adore her. She is my life." He stopped abruptly and Victoria saw the moistness of his eyes and turned from him until he was composed.

"This letter. I have written it for Caroline. I thought she might not see me. Please see that she receives it." He proffered the envelope, Victoria took it from him, and he bowed and withdrew. As he strode through the room, his solid back filling the doorway, his blond queue untidily arranged, he seemed to Lady Victoria to be the epitome of men and a tragic figure. He was noble, honest and brave in a time of rogues and profiteers, debauchees and libertines. How ironic was the world that men such as he should be fated to be ruined!

Stephen Maturin was in a foul humour. After an uncomfortable journey, he had reached Bristol to find that the packet was cancelled- the seas were high after a severe overnight storm and all the small shipping was staying in the harbour until the afternoon tide. He found a small inn near the quay, had lunch and spent the afternoon reading and making notes for a lecture he was delivering soon at the Royal Society. It was there that Bonden found him.

"Doctor, God be praised the boat was cancelled!"

"Wonderful news, isn't it! I have spent such an entertaining day...what the devil are you doing here?"

"Sir, a letter from your wife. Something terrible has happened and the Captain is in trouble again. Mrs. Maturin insists I bring you back."

Stephen snatched the note and read, his face turning from shock to disbelief. Jack and Caroline? Lovers for nine years? Two children? His mind recalled the days of the passage from the Orient when Caroline had been with child. Suddenly it all fell into place. How had he missed the obvious? How had Jack kept his secret? What of Sophie? Questions raced though his mind as he gathered his belongings and they hired a fast coach to return them to London.

The long journey, largely spent in silence, gave Stephen the opportunity to plan his moves. He hoped that Jack had had the sense to get away but at the back of his mind, he doubted it. First he must ascertain that his removal was achieved. Then for Stanhope. What might call him off? Would Lord Liverpool see him? Perhaps Sir Joseph could use his influence?

By the time he reached home, he was clear on his priorities. His first trip was to the Admiralty where he checked the manifests and found what he was looking for. Next he dispatched Bonden with instructions. Finally he repaired to Black's where he had arranged to meet Sir Joseph for a spot of supper...

Jack had left Melchett House and set off for home, but he knew he was in no state to be at Ashgrove. In his current humour he felt sure Sophie would suspect something. Taking the coast road, he turned for Portsmouth and found himself homing in on the port he loved so well. At the Rose and Crown, he settled his men, gave them a sum of money and directing them to amuse themselves- he wanted to be alone. Entering, he took a private room, partly for safety but also because he did not want to meet any captains of his acquaintance and be forced into a night of jollity which he did not feel.

A buxom wench, her black hair rolled up in a mob cap with stray curls escaping in a fetching manner, bobbed in with a side of beef and a game pie. He ordered two bottles of Burgundy and took his meal, eating in a distracted fashion, his thoughts far away. As the girl cleared away and served a large fruit pie with a hot creamy sauce, he sat back and suddenly noticed the swell of her ample buttocks displayed before him as she reached for a platter across the table.

His hand strayed to touch and cup one generous cheek; the girl giggled and turned to look at him. The man was a sight to behold- big and handsome, his coat lying on a chair, his neckerchief discarded and his shirt hanging open, revealing his large muscular chest and broad belly. She caught his eye and saw the glaze of lust and the bright moistness that told of too much wine.

"You want Polly for dessert, fine sir? It'll cost you extra. But I'll make it worth your while. Go on, hitch up my skirt. See if the goods is to your liking, sir." The girl was cheeky and forward, a tavern wench who was no better than she should be. Jack thought shamed-faced of the furtive coupling of the night before with his wife but shrugged it from his mind. His hand ruffled up the layers of cloth and he bared her haunches. She was naked beneath, typical of these girls, but clean and young. Her flesh was pink and plentiful, soft fleshy buttocks and white dimpled thighs. He spun her round to reveal her quim. Thick black curls framed the juicy snatch and he felt the corresponding rise in his breeches as his cock hardened.

The girl settled on his knee, her bright eyes sparkling. "Have you ever seen a better pair?" Dragging on the lacing at her breast, she bared her enormous bosoms and held them to his mouth. "Go on, sir, taste." She smelt of the kitchen, sugar and pastry, a rich sweet feast for a desperate man. Jack growled and bent his head to suckle, hands mauling her naked buttocks, the heat and moisture of her cunt radiating through the fabric of his breeches to burn his thigh.

Her nimble hands unfastened his laces and she deftly handled his cock which came bobbing out to meet her eager hand. "Why, sir, this is a fine specimen. Wouldn't get many of these in a pound weight, sir!" she chortled and then wriggled away to kneel at his feet and wrap her rosy red lips around his girth as he moaned and swigged back the last of the bottle.

With a swift movement, he raised her, tupping her back onto the bed and raised her skirts, to burrow in her rolls of flesh and taste her own sweet wine. The girl laughed and encouraged him, with teasing words and crude language.

"Oooh sir, you have a tongue on you and there's no mistake. Polly's honey pot is fair brimming over....oh yes, sir, that's the place...oh yes...you do Polly a favour...and she'll milk that fine cock o' yours all night......

Jack woke with a blinding headache and the urge to piss. It was early morning, not long after dawn, but the port was already alive with activity. He rolled the woman off his body; she fell back on the pillow and continued snoring. Jack winced at the sight of her without the benefit of alcohol. Staggering from the bed, he aimed out of the window and let out a stream of piss, ignoring the complaint from some unfortunate who was passing underneath the window. The sky was still dark rose-tinged with the dawn, but an early October storm was still hanging in the sky, the sea white flecked and grey, rolling to meet the black horizon.

The urge to sail away gripped him as he finished and shook himself off. He longed for the comparative simplicity of his life afloat and the haven it provided from the reality of his land-born existence. But this time he would not take the coward's way out. He owed more to Caroline than that he should abandon her to her fate at this time and to Sophie that she should find at second hand what he had done.

While the doxy in his bed slept on, Jack made up his mind. First to Ashgrove, lay bare his sin to Sophie, accept what punishment he must, and then to London, Sir William and a duel. It was the only way two gentlemen could resolve this. If he died, then so be it. His wife and children were well provided for, as were his three illegitimate children. Should he kill Lord Stanhope, then Caroline's reputation, although suspect, would be safe.

 Dressing quietly, leaving a tidy sum of money for the whore on the pillow, he made his way down the narrow stairs, took a hasty breakfast and a mug of ale, settled his account and stepped out into the damp and dark early morning. Jack had only walked a matter of a few strides from the inn when the men pounced. Despite his size and strength he was overpowered, so sudden was the shock of their assault, and dragged down an alleyway. There, he was bundled to the floor, a cloth bag fixed upon his head and his arms and legs bound until he could not struggle. With a sick sense of dread he waited for the assassin's blade, the inevitable slash to the throat that would end his life, with so much left undone and so many of those who loved him unprotected. As the light faded from his eyes, his last conscious memory was Caroline and how she had looked to him one humid Malayan morning long ago....

It was ten days later before Caroline was sufficiently recovered to return to London and make an attempt to approach the Prime Minister. During her retreat in Sussex, she had shunned all contact with the outside world. All she knew of Jack was the letter he had left with Victoria. She had read and re-read it until her eyes had ached from crying. She slept with it under her pillow and carried it by day in a pouch at her waist. It was like a talisman to give her strength for the trials ahead.

My most beloved Caroline,

If tearing my lovesick heart out with my bare hands could spare you the shame and scandal that our discovery must bring, then I would gladly do it. I know not what I can do to protect all those I love but I shall endeavour to try. Whatever happens - you must know this. That I have loved you since the first day that I ever saw you and will do so until the day I die. I cannot pretend that any woman has ever made my heart sing as you have. Even should our lives be ruined and that of all the others that we love, I know that I would not change a moment or a single choice we made. Some things are ordained, my love, some things are set in the heavens and we must follow our star. You are the light of my life and the passion that fills my lonely nights at sea. Remember that when we are parted. If I never touch you again in this life, be assured I will wait for you in the next. Take care of our children. Our love lives on through them.

Your Jack.

Her hands closed over the wrinkled paper and crushed it back into the little silken bag. The doors of the reception room were thrown open and Sir Robert Jenkinson stepped through a triumphant smile on his face. Before him stood the woman of his dreams, Lady Caroline Stanhope, returned to society after her confinement, more ravishing than ever in a pale blue silk gown, her hair arranged in a flamboyant fashion, her lips rouged and her carriage as proud and dignified as ever.

But the pendulum had swung in his favour- even though he had had to give it a little push. The delectable beauty was now in need of a champion and the Prime Minister had the wherewithal to extend a helping hand. He wondered how far this woman would now be prepared to go to save herself and her lover?

"Good afternoon, Caroline, my dearest girl! You look ravishing! How do you do it, m'dear? Your babe is not yet weaned and you look like a maid in the first blush of youth!"

"I thank you, sir! You are too kind. I fear the blush of youth is far behind me now. But I am still vain enough to enjoy the flatteries of a man such are yourself. How are you, Robert, my old friend? You look well. It is good to see you again!"

"I am well enough, but weighed down with cares as ever! But I do not wish to talk politics, even with a fine mind like yours. Come, have a glass of sherry and we will gossip like old friends should!"

A pleasant half hour passed in idle and superficial chatter. At last Caroline felt ready to broach the real matter behind her visit.

"Robert. Much as I love to sit and chat the hours away with you, I fear an ulterior motive brought me here today. I must be frank with you and tell you things that I would prefer to keep silent. But greater matters require my honesty. I have betrayed my husband. I think you suspect this and must have heard the rumours that have decided that you are the lover who fathered my daughter. Only you and I know the truth behind that story..."

"And one other, of course, my dear." Sir Robert paused dramatically. " The actual father."

Caroline blushed. "Indeed. The actual father. It is of him I must speak. My husband, Lord Stanhope, has discovered the truth and has vowed the most severe vengeance on me and my lover. If you have any lingering affection for me, Robert, I throw myself at your feet and beg you to use your influence to restrain my husband."

"What does he plan to do?"

"A public divorce, declare my daughter's bastardy, deny me my son and destroy my lover. He has hired assassins."

Sir Robert rose and walked to the window, fingering the plush velvet of the hangings. He knew more than that but he did not admit it.

"I will do whatever I can to aid you- and I believe I can do much. Your husband is eager for a senior cabinet post. It can be arranged but only if he remains your husband and keeps the secret of your daughter's paternity. Is that satisfactory?"

Caroline gasped. "Oh Robert! If you can do that I will be forever in your debt! You are a true friend, my sweet man. Let me take your hand and hold it for I have felt so alone these past few weeks!"

She rushed across to him and he turned to meet her. She took his hand and kissed it, then pressed it against her cheek. "Caroline, you know how I feel about you? You know that I have loved you for years?"

Raising her eyes she looked at him in affection. "Would that things were different, Robert..."

"Ah, my dear, but now they are different. I will help you, Caroline, but I expect you to thank me in the way a woman thanks a man. I will show you how much I love you and you will allow me to do so. For that, your safety is assured and that of your lover, too."

The meaning of his words sank like a stone into her heart. He was demanding a price for his support and the cost was to be her body. Caroline stared at him, dared him to feel shame, but he had no embarrassment. He was a politician and negotiation was his forte. He had the essential weapon in this matter- a leverage. It was simply a matter of the inevitable success of the strong over the weak.

"You would demand that of me?" She asked coldly. "That which I cannot give in love?"

"Love can follow, Caroline."

"I love another."

"Captain John Aubrey?"

She cried out at the mention of his name. "You know?"

"I know. I know much about the fine yellow-haired captain of your heart. You speak of love? I love you- he does not. To him you are a golden prize, like the ships he so liberally captures and sails home to enlarge his fortune and reputation. What greater feather in his amorous cap than to bed the most famous and virtuous lady in England? But make no mistake, Caroline, men like Jack Aubrey have only one real love - that is themselves and their arrogant notions of their honour and manliness."

"Sir, I will not have you slander a fine man in this way. He is one of England's heroes, a good and brave man who has risked his life many times for our country's sake!"

Sir Robert smiled patronisingly. "He is all those things but he wins glory for himself. However England is thankful for him- I would not pretend otherwise. But as a lover he is not a faithful man. Caroline, you deserve a man who will worship you, not one who whores behind your back and steals other ladies even as he leaves your bed."

"But he does not! He is loyal to me and his wife. I know this!"

"Do you know Lady Sarah Tiverton?"

"The operatic singer? She is a great beauty but a great deal younger than I. We have never been formally introduced..."

"Yes, beautiful. Yes, younger than you. I believe she is three and twenty. She is also a mistress of Jack Aubrey."

"What?"

The Prime Minister held out the locket and Caroline read the inscription, fingering the lock of golden hair within. "It came into my possession recently. The lady is an acquaintance. There is some talk of her retiring to the country. She is with child...."

It was the final blow of all she had borne. Against her rational mind, the evidence seemed to mount against him. Was he just a silvery tongued lover who had played the field in every port around the world? Had she been so wrong about him all these years?

The doubts were only in her head for a moment before she realised the absurdity of them. Her hand closed over the letter in her pocket. The man who had written that was not a selfish womaniser. If any woman of his acquaintance had come to Jack for help would he ever have demanded a payment of any kind, much less that she surrender her body? Jack would lay his life on the line and ask for nothing but the satisfaction of doing the right thing, the honourable thing. Robert Jenkinson had his own reasons for trying to destroy Jack in her mind and they were no doubt to do with his unhealthy obsession with her. Never would she doubt Jack or believe anything about him that did not come from his own lips.

"When do you require me to fulfill my debt to you, sir?" Caroline asked coldly.

"Are you staying at Barset House?

"No. I was intending to stay at my brother's mansion on the Mall."

"Is he aware of your presence yet?

"No. I came straight here from Sussex."

"Good. I have a small house in Chiswick where we will undisturbed. This is the address." he wrote on a small card and handed it to her. "I shall join you there for dinner. You will not be disappointed in me, I assure you, madam, and I promise you that your little 'problem' will be over by the end of the day. Until then, dear lady!" He bent and kissed her hand. She felt a slight shudder pass through her at the touch of his cool lips. But she decided she would think of Jack and bear all that life threw at her- if she could but save his life and name.

The rustling of rats and the scurrying of roaches made a distant impression on his brain. Moments passed in which he tried to gather his wits and understand where he was. The motion informed him he was at sea- deep water, a swell and by the feel of it a tail wind rising - the ship was moving smooth and fast. He must have slept too long and missed the change of watch. The gnawing of a rat at his boot roused him further and he shook his leg and shouted, waking himself up.

Jack groaned as the sudden movement hit his head and made it pound. He sat up and looked around. This was not his cabin! He was in a store deep in the belly of an unfamiliar ship, surrounded by barrels and cases. His breeches were damp from the bilge that ran along gulleys and splashed about with the roll of the ship and the stench was strong and unpleasant but, to a seaman of Jack's experience, bearable. Standing up, head bowed to keep away from the low ceiling, he surveyed his prison. He would not want for food- there was plenty here. He also found a water butt and a pot in which to relieve himself- his captors had thought of the niceties.

So he drank a few handfuls of water and broke through the wax into a cheese bale and began to think. His last memory was being set upon by thugs outside The Rose and Crown; he had thought his end was nigh. But no. He had been rendered unconscious- blow to the head? Jack felt his scalp but there was no sign of injury. What else could have made him sleep for hours and give his head such a dull ache? Some potion? But when was it administered to him. He had settled his bill and eaten a crude breakfast downstairs in the inn- bread and cold meat washed down by a thin ale- it had tasted quite bitter... whatever it was must have been working on him even before he was set upon. The matter was curiouser and curiouser.

The bolt on the door was drawn and a sailor stepped in, clutching a club and looking malevolent. He was a huge man, rough hewn and shifty, eying Jack suspiciously.

"So, y're awake."

"What the deuce am I doing here? Do you know who I am?"

"Don't make no bleedin' difference to me. Captain says I was to see ye had enough to eat and drink. Empty your piss pot. Them's my orders."

"Look, man, what is this ship? Why am I here?"

"You've been pressed. Ain't that a shame!" The man cackled, slapped down a jug of wine and a plate of food, kicked the pot, saw it was empty and went out.

Pressed? How to press a post captain? And if he were- why was he not out on deck being put to his task? They were far at sea and he was going nowhere. At sea. Going nowhere. With a dawning sense of realisation, Jack understood. Whoever was the captain, this was a trap set by those who wished him safe. He had been kidnapped and sent to sea to prevent him from the assassins sent to kill him. The interfering fools! He had to reach Sophie, challenge Stanhope, save Caroline's honour, not linger shamefully in the stinking bowels of a ship while the innocent ones were destroyed! Raging, he hammered on the oak door bound with iron and bellowed at his captors. Tearing at barrels and boxes he searched for a weapon or a piece of metal that he could use to prise open the door or hack his way out, but found nothing. But his temper did not abate. For hours he raged and thumped on door and walls to no avail.

Several decks above him, Heneage Dundas sat savouring a particularly fine Madeira and an even more delightful wench whose services he had procured at Portsmouth. Polly Witherspoon had done her task well and kept Jack more than occupied last night, while the men had arranged his 'impressment.' It has seemed a shame to dispense with the services of such a willing girl this morning. He wished he dared release Jack and even, maybe, share the Madeira and the wench tonight - but he thought it better to keep Jack restrained. It was unlikely he would be in the mood for polite conversation or even amorous games in his current state of mind.

Three people stepped down from the carriage and made their way along a row of terraced houses in Vauxhall to the address they sought. It was a three storey terraced house with an immaculately leaded step and cheerful curtains at the sparkling sash windows. One of the group, a bewigged older gentleman, rapped at the front door with an ivory tipped cane, stepping back to await an answer. The door was opened by a fresh-faced scullery maid who blushed, and scuttled away to fetch a middle-aged portly woman, drying her hands on her apron.

"And how can I help you, my dearies?"

"Would this be 25, Vauxhall Gardens? And would you be Mrs. Butterworth?"

"It would and I am. How can I be of assistance?" The woman was looking nervously from one to the other. These people were nobs- there was no doubt about it. She was torn between suspicion and deference.

A younger slightly rumpled man wearing a rather flea bitten wig and a nondescript black suit stepped forward. "Mrs. Butterworth, your servant. My name is Dr. Stephen Maturin- this is my wife, Mrs Maturin, and my good friend Sir Joseph Blaine. We have been informed that a certain young gentleman, a Lt. Richard Fairweather boards at your lodging house. Is this correct?"

"And what if it is, sir? What business have you with the young gentleman?" Mrs. Butterworth was a strict but maternal landlady and she watched over young Dickie like a mother hen when he was in town. He was more like a son to her- and she had plans to make him almost that, if he would only take more notice of her Lizzie- what a fine match that would make!

"Have no fears, Mrs. Butterworth, we mean the young gentleman no harm. Indeed, we are old acquaintances! Young Fairweather was a midshipman for several years on the Surprise, where I was ship's doctor."

"The Surprise! Why that is when he sailed with Lucky Captain Jack Aubrey! Come in, come in! We have all heard tales of his exploits with the famous captain. Wait in the parlour. He is in his rooms- I will inform him! What a turn around! His old shipmates! Let me tell Ruby to bring in tea and you can all have a reminisce about old times, to be sure!"

Off she bustled and a few moments later, the parlour door burst open and in ran Dickie Fairweather. He was no longer the little Dickie of his former years. Stephen gasped to see the boy now. Before him stood a young man of somewhat about average height with blonde curls arranged in a fetching fashion with a small clubbed queue tied up in a velvet ribbon. His face was fresh with red cheeks but there was the clear growth of stubble that prevented him from appearing too girlish. But he was no doubt a pretty young man, the sort that young maidens swoon over. His figure was slender and neat of leg but his shoulders were broad and his hands bore the signs of a life lived in a man's world where all put their shoulder to the wheel and their fingers to the rope. But he still was boyish enough to dash downstairs and burst through doors with enthusiasm.

"Doctor! My dear doctor! This is a great honour!" Richard grasped Stephen's hand and shook it with vigour.

"And it is good to see you, although I would scarce have recognised you. How are you? Lieutenant now, I believe?"

"Indeed, sir, I have been fortunate. But please introduce your companions. Would this be Mrs. Maturin? I read the announcement of the birth of your daughter in The Times. Congratulations to you both!"

Stephen completed the formalities by introducing Sir Joseph and then they all sat down to tea. How civilised- the English gentry is at its most formal! But there was a purpose in this visit more than merely old times' sake.

"I believe Lady Caroline has remained a friend and benefactress to you over the years, Richard?" Stephen began when he felt the moment was right.

"She is an angel! Without her I would be condemned to a life as a midshipman- my family are not prominent. I would do anything if I could only repay some small part of her kindnesses to me..."

A look was exchanged between the three companions and Stephen continued. "The purpose of our visit is just that, Richard. Your beloved Duchess is in dire need of friends, as is another person whom you greatly admire. I speak of Captain Aubrey. How far would you go, Richard, to save her reputation and his life?"

Richard listened with his mouth open but it was immediately obvious that he guessed the source of danger she was in. "Is this connected to...the special affection that once existed between the Captain and Lady Caroline?" Richard asked.

Stephen nodded. "How much do you know, Richard?"

"I know they were lovers and I suspect he is the father of her son, William John."

"They were and still are. There has since been a second child and the Duke has discovered their secret. He has vowed to kill Jack, divorce his wife and declare the daughter illegitimate. I am sure I have no need to tell you of the consequences to the lady and Captain Aubrey's family..."

"Captain Aubrey has been called out?" Richard asked.

"No. Assassins have been hired. But Jack is out of the country and safe at the present, God be praised. Lady Caroline, however, is more vulnerable."

Richard stood up, as if to attention, straight-backed and solemn, suddenly the lieutenant of his command. "I swear I will do anything in my power to aid my lady in her hour of need. Please, command me, sir!"

At that Stephen and Sir Joseph outlined their plan while Diana removed herself to the window and drank her tea, staring out onto the rainy early autumnal gloom. It was a daring attempt but she had a feeling that it would do. This was a time for desperate measures and this was the most desperate of all.

Later that evening, Lt. Richard Fairweather took a table at Black's across from the reserved place of the Duke of Barsetshire. Sir William was dining alone. Before Richard had the time to finish his first glass of Madeira, a waiter brought a request inviting him to join the Duke for dinner. Smiling sweetly, a blush forming on his young cheeks, Richard approached the table and gave a slight bow.

"Good evening, my Lord Duke, I should be grateful to accept your kind offer, sir."

By the end of the meal, a fine side of beef in pastry, fuelled by a few bottles of Lafite, Sir William and Richard were firm friends and subsequently left together, ostensibly to return to Barset House in his carriage.

As the young man bent to pull down the steps to enable the older man to mount, he felt a hand caress his tight young buttocks and slip between his thighs. The feeling of revulsion that gripped him was hard to control but, with the image of Lady Caroline in his mind, he swallowed down his anger and made no move to resist.

Once inside the carriage, the young man sat facing the Duke and made his gambit. "Sir, you desire my body? Or do you wish me to perform certain intimate services for you? I am yours to command for a small matter of a fee..."

The Duke smiled lasciviously. "I desire both -and you will be well rewarded, make no mistake. You might as well start now. On your knees, boy, and wrap your lips around this or I fear I shall not make it home with dry breeches." At that the old libertine unbuttoned his breeches and presented his cock to Richard, who shuddered at the action. He slipped to his knees but, instead of addressing the swollen member before him, he made a sharp knock to the window and the carriage door was wrenched open. Dr. Stephen Maturin entered and sat down, an eyebrow raised at the sight of the Duke caught in this act of perversion. Sir Joseph Blaine stepped into the carriage from the opposite side.

"Sir, this man has just propositioned me!" Richard exclaimed.

"I am shocked, Sir William, and you a father and married man!"

"This is preposterous! This young man has entrapped me. He offered his services!"

"A foul lie! I am a naval officer bound by the Articles. I would not risk my career to bugger an old pervert like you! Doctor, thank God you came to my aid!"

"The evidence is mounting against you, my Lord Duke. You have been caught red-handed - perhaps I should say rubro membro? This is very serious but it may be possible for us to negotiate a compromise. I think we need to return to the club where, on neutral ground, we may draw up a contract on which some agreement might be based. I might have a matter I must put before you..."

A short while later, the Duke caved in and signed the document, aware that Richard Fairweather and Doctor Maturin, with Sir Joseph Blaine no less as witness, had signed another, which attested to his attempted intimate assault on a naval officer of unstained character. For the suppression of the latter document, Stanhope agreed to make no move to divorce his wife or declare his daughter illegitimate. Should any harm occur to even a single hair on the flowing locks of Captain Aubrey, this incriminating evidence would be circulated around the Cabinet and also find its way to The Times.

It was with a sense of great satisfaction that the three men sat on after the hurried withdrawal of Stanhope and toasted their successful manoeuvre. Young Richard threw down the glass of champagne and breathed a sigh of relief- that had been a close run thing and he hoped in future Lady Caroline and the Captain's discretion would not require such dedicated service. Meanwhile Stephen Maturin excused himself and took himself back out onto the rainy street; his night's work was still incomplete.

In a nondescript town house in a quiet street in Chiswick, Lady Caroline Stanhope dined with the Prime Minister. It had been a meal conducted with the strictest propriety where footmen attended and conversation was polite and intelligent: matters of state, literature, musical performances they had attended, news of the war.

The clock chimed eleven when, at last, Sir Robert dismissed the servants and poured brandy into two cut glass balloons. He handed one to Caroline and, clinking glasses, made a toast.

"To us, Caroline, and a new episode in our friendship. My dear...you have no idea how I have longed for this night!"

Caroline sipped the smooth liquor and felt it slip down her throat and aid her confidence. The forthcoming ordeal had hovered above her head all evening like the sword of Damocles while she had affected an air of proud hauteur. Rising, she took, Sir Robert's proffered hand and allowed him to lead her from the charming dining room out into the hall and then up the staircase to the upper floor.

The Earl led her into an elegant bedchamber, furnished opulently with the finest materials. The walls were flocked with silk, the windows heavily curtained in dark red velvet and the centrepiece of the room, a vast four-poster bed, was rich in pure white silken sheets, scattered with flower petals and a heavy brocade counterpane run through with gold thread. In the hearth, a fire was burning brightly and a bottle of champagne stood on a side table ready to pour.

Caroline looked around the room, imprinting every detail on her memory. This was the moment of her testing and she remembered that awful day when she had witnessed Jack led out to be chained to the stocks and humiliated before all of London. She recalled how he had held his head high, unafraid and unbowed, for they could never break him or take from him the man he was.  She might have no hostile audience to mock her fall from grace but then, she had no honour guard of seamen to stand before her and protect her from the ignominy. Caroline raised her eyes and chose a painting on the wall that showed a proud ship of the line at sea, its sails billowing in a fine wind and the waves white tipped. She would stare at this and remember fine days afloat with Jack on the quarterdeck and her younger self, painting in the shade. These thoughts would protect her from what she had to do.

Sir Robert stood before her and looked at her, his politician's controlled expression now replaced by the prurient stare of a man with lust in his eyes.

"Let your hair down, my dear!" Caroline raised her hands and released her hair until it fell in thick golden curls around her shoulders.

"Let me help you with your gown, my love!" He stood by her back, raising her hair and nibbling at her ear, his breath sour and his lips cold against her tender skin as he began to unhook the fasteners. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine he was Jack but every touch reminded her that he was not.

Hands on her shoulders, he lowered the gown and let it slip in a silken wave to the floor at her feet and then he stepped around her, his eyes drinking in every inch of her body, clad only in a light petticoat and silken drawers, her legs encased in white silk stockings held by pink ribbons above her knee.

She heard his low groan and shuddered. Before her eyes, he began to disrobe, removing first his silver powdered wig to reveal his close shaven grey-stubbled pate. He suddenly looked his age, his hook-nosed, angular features with the thin parchment of his skin drawn tight. His narrow lips were moistened by a flickering tongue; it made her think of a lizard on a rock.

He touched her face and pulled her to him, suddenly forcing his lips upon hers and his tongue down her throat. She felt a nausea rising in her throat and struggled against the urge to vomit but, digging her fingernails into her palms, she held on. His hands mauled her breasts and raked at the little ribbons that tied the front of her chemise. Pulling away, panting with lust, he pulled the fabric away to bare her bosom.

"Oh my dear girl, what magnificent breasts! Venus in all her beauty could not equal their splendour!" He cupped them in his bony hands and squeezed her nipples making her cry out. "Does that please you, madam?" She smiled weakly, an attempt to feign approval. "Remove your petticoat, my dear, slowly..." Sir Robert sat down on the high-winged chair and watched as she let the garment drop. His hand stroked his groin. "And now the pantaloons. I wish to see you in your natural state..."

Swallowing hard to stop herself shaking, Caroline unfastened the strings that tied them and they shimmered to the ground to leave her naked but for the silk stocking. She bent to untie the garter but he stayed her hand. "No! Leave them. The effect is most stirring to the blood." His hand ran down her belly and played with the soft curls between her legs.

Caroline was somewhere far away. Lost in her secret world, her body invaded but her mind intact and pure. Somewhere deep in her subconscious she cried out for Jack, her Jack, and remembered why she was offering herself on this altar- it was for him and his daughter and son so that they should never know the taint of scandal and dishonour. For herself she cared not a jot. Her reputation could be in tatters and she would pay no mind- but those she loved must never suffer on account of her sin.

Some God must have watched the pitiful sight and recognised the sacrifice that she had made. Like Yahweh stayed the hand of Abraham, the hand of Sir Robert was halted. A strident knocking sounded at the front door below, persistent and urgent. The Earl pulled away and shouted in frustration.

"Ye Gods, must I never be spared!" A gentle tap at the door and Sir Robert opened the door a tiny crack- whispers were exchanged and the Prime Minister returned to don a long velvet dressing robe. "I shall return presently. Cover yourself my dear!"

Caroline stood, frozen in place, unable to move, as if her brain had stopped functioning. She was in shock, some deep dark place from which she could not pull herself even now. Her ears did not mark the knock on the door or see it open.

"Lady Caroline!" The voice was a woman's and slowly it dawned on her consciousness. Caroline's hand flew to cover her nakedness as Diana Maturin gathered the clothes at her feet and began to assist the terrified woman to dress herself. "Dear, dear Duchess, you are safe now. There is no need to fret yourself! Come dress yourself, you are cold and shivering."

"Safe? What do you mean?" Caroline stammered out the words.

"Your husband has been persuaded to withdraw his case against you and Jack. There will be no divorce or scandal." Diana tied the bloomers and began to pull up the petticoat, unable to stop marvelling at the beauty of the woman before her, a flawless perfection that even two children had not marred; no wonder Jack gloried in her body. Caroline stood like a little child and allowed herself to be reclothed, clearly stunned by the news.

"How? How have you done this miracle?"

"It will be explained. But first, we must get you from here and home safely. We will talk later."

"Where is the Prime Minister?"

"The old rogue is downstairs with my husband. He has been persuaded that it is not wise for him to force you in this matter. The details are irrelevant."

Minutes later, wrapped in a cloak, Diana bustled the Duchess from the house and into a waiting carriage; Stephen joined them moments later and they drove away at speed to return to their home where little Isabelle slept on in the nursery with Brigid Maturin unaware that her future had just been secured.

Jack Aubrey sat in the captain's cabin facing his old friend Heneage Dundas and the two men were sharing a bottle. His temper was calmed as they sailed back towards England after a fast cutter had arrived with a message as they lay off Brest with the news that it was safe to return to Portsmouth. Jack had ranted and raged when he had finally been released but there was nothing he could do- the matter had been taken from his hands and solved by his friends. He could not help but be moved by the support he and Caroline had received.

At Portsmouth, he took his leave and was met by Killick and Bonden who received the sharp end of the captain's tongue for their part in his capture and 'impressment'. He fumed about flogging and keelhauling but they paid no mind well aware that behind his fury was a real gratitude that he could not disguise.

That night at Ashgrove, he settled down with Sophie and made small talk about his stay in London, ashamed of his lies but thankful that he could spare her the truth that he had been so ready to reveal rather than let he hear it from elsewhere. He could not deny he was glad to be home, to sleep in his own bed, to take his conjugal rights on his own wife whom he had believed might never allow him near her again. No matter how much he loved Caroline and his other family, he owed Sophie everything and the sweet contentment of his home life with her would always be one of the twin beacons in his life, the two women who brought him back to land after months travelling the world.

"Jack, I know this is very untimely especially as you will be sailing in a matter of weeks, but I am afraid I must make a trip. I promised to take my mother and the children to Bath to take the waters, she really is not in good health, as you know. I can't imagine you would enjoy such a holiday. Would you be too troubled if we left you to your own devices for the week? I promise you your last few days will be spent in the bosom of your family and we will make you the centre of attention..."

Jack said that he believed that he could bear a short parting and thanked his guiding star that he now had the opportunity to say his farewells to Caroline before he put to sea. This time he was sure she would see him; he would not leave until she did.

On a wild October afternoon, Diana Maturin was reading in her conservatory while Stephen was attending to one of the exotic blooms that he had brought back from South America. Lady Caroline, their houseguest while the residence she had purchased was being renovated, sat painting the two little girls before her, a baby in a cradle and a toddler playing with a doll. It was a charming domestic scene completed by the presence of a handsome boy with white blonde hair who was reading out loud to his mother.

Unannounced, a tall man stepped quietly into the botanical wonderland and stood watching the scene for a few moments. Suddenly the boy looked up and started, jumping to his feet. "Sir!"

All eyes turned and fixed on Jack Aubrey for, of course, it was he. Caroline paled and dropped her brush. His name escaped from her lips in a whisper as her hand flew to her breast. All at once, as if there were no one else in the room, she ran forward and her quiet surprise changed to wild abandon as she threw herself into his arms and he whirled her round high in the air, his face breaking into a wide smile.

"Jack! My Jack!" Caroline screamed in delight, her arms wrapped round his neck, her lips searching for his. He placed her gently down and raised her face in his hands to kiss her soft and tenderly upon her mouth.

The audience smiled to each other, even the young boy who stepped forward to greet the new arrival. The amorous couple suddenly realised what they had done, both blushing and each reluctantly letting go of the other. Caroline whispered to him. "John knows. I told him. I told him everything. No more secrets from those we love."

Jack turned to his son, allowing himself for the first time to view the boy as a father rather than a friendly stranger. The boy smiled shyly, his skin flushing with embarrassment. "Welcome, father. It is good to see you again."

Jack took his hand and then, on a whim, clasped the boy to his bosom, tears pricking his eyes to be able to acknowledge his paternity of this fine boy at last. "I am so proud of you, John. So proud."

The day passed pleasantly as the two families sat and chatted, played with the little ones and Jack took a walk with the boy where they spoke together for the first time as father and son. John had taken the news well. His putative father had never won his love- Johnny had always been his mother's son and had withdrawn from the cold man who claimed paternity over him. Jack Aubrey was his hero and he was too young to understand the implications of the revelation other than to understand that this must be kept a secret except for the people who already knew.

The boy gazed at his real father with worship bordering on adoration as Jack told him of his life as sea, his other family- Johnny's half brother and sisters, and something of how he had met his mother. The boy was more than ever determined now to go to sea and follow in his father's footsteps- even should he have to run away like a boy in an adventure story!

Little was discussed of the unorthodox relationship when the adults dined together later; but once Caroline and Diana withdrew, however, much was said. The women spoke freely, as women do- Caroline discovered about Diana's earlier affaire with Jack when they had been younger and something of the marriage of Jack and Sophie, although Diana was discreet enough.

The men, less comfortable with revelation of the heart, still shared a few words as they tuned their instruments and prepared to play.

"You could have told me, Jack. I would not have condemned you," Stephen observed.

Jack tightened his bow and sighed. "I am almost did, many times, but it was not my secret to reveal. I did not want you to think badly of Caroline. Her reputation had to be my first concern."

Stephen nodded. "I thought she had been Babbington's mistress on the voyage home- but I never blamed her! Her husband was clearly a cold and unpleasant man- and I knew of his predilection for his own sex- he once made an overt advance towards me. Imagine that!" Stephen grinned at the thought.

Jack frowned. "Predilection? He's a bugger? God damn his eyes, the whoreson dog! Has he been rogering boys all these years? My son has been in the same house as that foul animal?" His opinions of sodomites were well known, even apart from his personal concern that his own son might have been at risk.

"He would never have harmed William John. He may be a scurrilous wretch but he is a gentleman and his depravity has limits." Stephen placed his hand on Jack's arm to reassure him. Jack turned to look at him, honesty and a desire to confide implicit in his eyes.

"Stephen- I do love Caroline, as a wife as well as a mistress. It was never an idle affaire; it was not a case of my amorous proclivities ruling my sense. I cannot explain how it is possible to declare - but it is true- that I have loved two women and I cannot lose either. Am I a very immoral man?"

His particular friend laughed and picked up his bow. "No, Jack, you are not. In fact you have a very marked and singular sense of morality, compared to most men of your class. What cannot be changed must be accepted. Do right by all your responsibilities and face your judgement day. For there must be worse faults to bring before your Maker than that you loved too well. And now- let us play. It has been too long and I can barely remember the phrasing of the Corelli..."

Caroline was in her chamber when Stephen and Jack finally climbed the stairs and took their leave. Jack paused on the upper gallery and Stephen nudged his arm. "The room on your right. Good night, dear friend!"- and entered his own bedchamber where Diana was waiting in a flowing peignoir, full of excitement to swap the gossip that they had both acquired tonight.

Rapping lightly on the door, Jack awaited Caroline's appearance. In moments she threw open the door, dressed in a flimsy chemise, her velvet gown open and her hair hanging loose.

"I thought you would never get away!" She gasped and he stepped briskly in, caught her in his arms and kissed her, walking her back to the bed as they savoured each other's lips. Half way across the room, Jack grew impatient and swung her up, throwing her upon the bed and ripping at his clothes in his urgency. He could not stay his ardour; he had thought never again to hold her.

Caroline was just as eager, pulling his shirt from his breeches and pushing aside his linens. Jack uttered a moan as she bent her head to kiss his manhood and cradle his testicles in her small white hands. She grasped him firmly and showered him in her love, kissing and fondling, slipping her pretty lips around him and suckling on him until he thought he would come like a callow lad.

Jack placed his hands on her face, tilted her to him and eased her gently from him. She knelt on the bed and nestled into his chest as he slipped her chemise from her and smoothed his hands down her naked body.

"I thought never again to touch you, my beauty!" He whispered. "I could not bear it when you would not receive me."

Caroline looked up at him and tenderly stroked his face. "It almost broke my heart- but I had no choice, Jack. Surely you could understand that?" With his hands on her arms, he raised her to his height and to his lips. His kiss assured her that he did, but wished no more to talk. They fell back onto the bed and he gave his mistress the worship that he had so longed desired- her ruby lips, her lily-white neck, her bountiful breasts, her belly where his children had grown and her creamy sex fringed in its golden curtain. His eager mouth spoke a language of love and desire as it explored and kissed, his searching tongue seeking out her pleasure spots. As he loved her, as ever in control, no danger now of any thoughtless mistake or blunder, secure in his mastery of this beautiful craft, Caroline held his head and fingered his yellow hair, now unbound and streaming around his face, a veil upon her nakedness.

"Jack....oh Jack....I cannot bear it...I shall die of pleasure!" She cried out and her soft sighs became more urgent as her moment of heaven was upon her. He moved above her as she tossed insensibly in his arms, parted her, felt her hot, molten core, inhaled the scent of her which still tasted on his lips and entered. It was his groan that shattered the stillness of the night, drowning out her lighter gasp. Supporting himself on his upper arms, he plunged over and over into her, his head arched back and eyes closed, teeth gritted, ears sensible only to her helpless moans until he could no longer hold back and, his vision blurred, he spilt his essence into her.

For once he did not collapse in a spent heap, or pull away to doze in her arms. This time, Jack felt animated by the act, empowered, as the last few weeks had made him feel emasculated. He lay above her, still in the same position, his dying cock slipping out to rest in the crease of her womanhood, still bathing in their juices. They both looked at each other in that moment of true completion when the physical and cerebral become one. Their eyes shone with the reflection of each other and the knowledge that this instant brought them.

"I love you, Caroline. It will never change, no matter what."

"And I you. I will always be yours- never another's. Whatever time or happenstance should sling at us."

A deep kiss, tears shed by both, tears of joy tinged with the sadness of their life. Such moments would always be few and far between - but always the better for the waiting.

He rolled her over and spooned beside her, kissing the smooth skin of her shoulder- and that is when he recoiled in horror and the magic of their Eden was shattered by the snake.

"Your back! You have been flogged! What is this abomination?" Jack pulled away and held her down as he viewed the scars that still marked her tender flesh.

She shrugged his hands away and turned to face him, dragging on the sheet to hide her. "It is nothing, Jack. It is done. It cannot be changed."

"He whipped you! Like a dog. He did this- tell me, Caroline! Was it he? Did Stanhope do this to you?" Jack grabbed her arms and shook her, forgetting himself in his dreadful anger.

"Please, Jack! Please! Forget it. Cast it from your mind. Scars can heal! You must not take this upon yourself, not now, when we have found an end to it!"

Jack's rage was incandescent. He left the bed and began to dress, shouting and bellowing his intentions for her husband, in a voice loud enough to wake the dead- a voice he usually kept for barking orders in the thick of a force ten gale.

All around the house, people stirred, babies cried, servants trembled. Upstairs, Stephen dashed from his bed and flung on a robe, while Caroline cried and wrung her hands to try and stop him from whatever instinctive foolishness he planned.

Bursting from the room, Jack ran down the stairs towards the door. Stephen caught him there.

"What is this uproar, Jack? This is my home- have you no respect?"

The chastisement of his friend brought some sense to his brain. Still panting heavily, Jack allowed himself to be led into the study where Stephen poured them both a brandy and made him sit down and drink it. In bursts of almost incoherent speech, Jack muttered about the treatment that Caroline had received at the hands of her husband.

"He beat her! With a riding crop! My Caroline!" He held his head in his hands and wept. Stephen stood by him, his hand on the solid shoulder, trying to give comfort and knowing that in his place, he would feel the same- in fact, in all truth, he did feel the same- for what man of honour would not wish to avenge such a heinous act?

"That is why she would not see you. Her face and body were bruised and battered and she feared what madness you might do. And she was right to fear your reckless bravery! This is not a simple game like war! If you call him out - or worse- attack him, he will destroy you and there will be no saving you this time. Do you comprehend that? The man did worse than what you have seen already. He violated her body, too."

At that Jack looked up, horror stark in his eyes. "He raped her?"

Stephen nodded. "He is her husband. That is his right, however you view the law of this land- it is his right to claim that privilege from his wife."

"But by violence?"

"A wife may not refuse her husband. The bond of matrimony is his permission granted. No court would listen to her plea."

"Then the law is corrupt and foul!" Jack exclaimed.

"You did not always think thus, Jack. It is only when it impinges on our personal situation that we have cognisance of the evils that our society upholds in the name of civilisation. There is only one way to deal with cases of this sort. Never allow yourself to be pulled into an open acknowledgement that can harm you. These wicked people will tear you apart. Revenge must be sought in other ways."

Jack sat back and swallowed back the brandy. "What must I do, Stephen?"

Stephen relaxed, aware that Jack had let the rage go and was ready to listen to reason. "Go back to bed and love that woman who has borne so much pain on your behalf. Tomorrow we will talk and I am sure we will find a way. Never give her anything else to cry about- she has wept enough for you!"

Jack nodded and the two men rose. On a sudden impulse, Jack embraced his friend and the two men allowed the strong bond of affection that existed between them to show.

"Goodnight, my true brother. I fear I would have long ago gone under without your guiding wisdom in my life!" Jack said with feeling.

"No man knows the extent of what you have done for me over the years. We are more than even, Jack Aubrey. More than even!"

Jack smiled and gave a slight nod of his head before withdrawing. Moments later he rejoined Caroline, who was half beside herself with fear, and they embraced. Retiring to bed, they spoke long into the night and made a gentler love before they sank into exhausted slumber.

But the comfort of his bed and the warm body of his wife were not allowed to Stephen Maturin. Gathering an instrument and phial of liquid from his laboratory, Stephen, once dressed, slipped out into the cold autumnal midnight. It was misty and damp, clouds obscuring the moon. A night for mishap. A night for dark deeds.

As the two families sat in the well appointed morning room that made the most of the gale swept day, light streaming in as they breakfasted, a messenger brought an urgent note for the Duchess. She must return to her home immediately. Tragedy had struck in the night. Her husband, the fifth Duke, had passed away in his sleep and her son, William John was now the heir to Barsetshire.

Stunned incomprehension gripped her as she read and re-read the note. Her body trembled and her face paled. Jack jumped up and she thrust the note to him; he read it in disbelief.

"It cannot be! It cannot be!" Caroline muttered as she turned to her son who was staring at his parents. "Oh, Johnny. What can I say? Your f...the Duke is dead... Long live the Duke!"

The boy's eyes widened, Diana dropped her teacup. Only Stephen Maturin remained sombre faced and unmoving, well prepared for this intelligence. He had taken upon himself the removal of this man whose presence would only have stirred Jack Aubrey to a foolhardy act of retribution. Now his friends were avenged and, what was more important, unconnected to the deed. It was but a little matter for a man such as he who had carried out underhand matters before. Never had he taken such comfort in the espionage that was his calling.

Jack and Caroline parted that day- he for Ashgrove and then to embark on his next mission, his ship now ready and waiting for him to victual and man. She had a state funeral to arrange and the investiture of her son as Duke. It would be many months, maybe years, until they would meet again but, despite their sadness, hope filled their hearts for the first time ever. One day he would return, God willing, and they would be together again, that much was true. Until then, Caroline would keep her love and raise his children to know their real father, while he would guard the flame of his secret passion as he sailed the wide ocean.

June 1814   Cape Town

Jack Aubrey descended the steps to his cabin, trying to restrain his desire to run like one of the little squeakers down to the haven of his great cabin. In his hands he clutched a stack of mail that had been waiting for him for several months while he had been far away in the East. It had been seven months since he had left Portsmouth and he was till a long wait from home. There had been no word since the early part of the year.

Scattering the letters on his desk, he made two piles. The largest was his business and legal correspondence which he left- it could be dealt with over the remaining weeks of the voyage. The second pile was smaller but it was the one that would have his immediate attention. There were letters from his children, his younger half-brother Philip, his illegitimate but beloved son, John, and then the stack of mail from his wife, Sophie. Again he sighed that she had forgotten to number them and knew that meant a long confusing ramble through an uncertain chronology. At the bottom was one letter, written on the finest notepaper, still bearing the trace of lavender, an elegant hand addressing it to:

Captain John Aubrey of His Majesty's Diane, post captain of the Royal Navy

He took up a letter knife and broke the seal, raising the paper to his face and inhaling the trace of flowers. His lips kissed the writing with a light brush.

My dearest, dearest Jack,

How goes it with you? I scour The Times for mention of your name or the capture of a vessel to add to your great reputation - but there is little of you. Perhaps I should take that as a positive note- you are safe and in no danger. Somehow I do not think that likely, my love, you are a man who seems to court the unexpected!  That is why I love you so.

My news? Nothing to compare with your exciting life, I am sure, but I am ever busy and fulfilled. John is completing this school year and then he joins Admiral Hollister on his flagship in the Mediterranean. He will see little action, God willing, but he will learn the trade. I have insisted on providing a tutor for him and the other boys who sail as midshipmen. Do not pull a face! I will not have his education hampered just because he wishes to go to sea. He is man enough already to punch the nose of any boy who mocks him for his adherence to the academic! In that respect- and I refer to the use of his fists- he is your son. Last term he bloodied a fellow who made fun of his hair and called him 'Girlie'! You would have laughed so at the letter from his form master, a weak and shrewish chap!

Isabelle is thriving! She is nine months old now and can raise herself to her little feet and edge around the furniture. We are quite worn out with chasing her here and there! She tries to climb and will not be fed anymore, grabbing the spoon in temper and making such a mess!  I fear she is a tomboy as your other daughters. You really do sire the most headstrong of daughters! What will we do with her when she is grown? She calls for you- 'Dada' was her first word (as it is for all children but I am still sure she misses you!) - how you will love her when you see her next. Her hair is so white and her eyes so blue- she looks like an angel; everyone who sees her falls in love with her in an instant. Ting continues to be besotted and to spoil her - but who can blame her- I am no better myself!

I am less occupied in society these days, having lost much of my taste for those empty and shallow gatherings, although I hold a monthly literary salon still. My new project is filling my days. My deceased husband left me a considerable sum of money,  in which I have little interest. I decided to make use of it set up a foundation for poor girls who are ruined and have no means to support themselves and their illegitimate children. It seemed appropriate that I should remember their plight (for only in respect of wealth am I separate from them, in truth) and it also seemed a suitable way of spending the old bastard's money!

These girls are such sad creatures, most of them the dupes of unscrupulous men and rogues, as is usual in these cases (I refer not to you as a rogue, my dear Jack, but I do love the trace of the rogue in you- for what would you be without a little of that?) but many have found themselves guilty of nothing but love and for that they are condemned. What a world we live in, my darling! It gives me great satisfaction to help them until they deliver and then endeavour either to help them find a home and income or to arrange an adoption if that is their wish. I hope you would be proud of me in this. We have been so fortunate where others are not spared.

There is a new fashion in the City that I must tell you about. It seems this season, that the elegant woman about town is wearing a less flamboyant style. Simple lines predominate both in dresses and adornments. Why do I tell you of this frippery? Why because it is called 'A la Mode de Caroline.' Apparently I began this curious fashion by my penchant for merely wearing a single pearl around my neck. If they but knew, my dearest Jack, the significance of this precious jewel, worth more to me than all the diamonds and rubies in the world! But it amuses me to think that our secret symbol has become the public  craze! I am sure that will make you chuckle, too.

Oh dearest, Jack how I long for you every day -but the lonely nights are by far the worst. I sit by the window, gazing on the moon, and wonder where you are and whether you are on deck in some distant sea, gazing at the sun as I sit a world away and love you. But what memories we have, eh Jack? They will have to do until you lie in the comfort of my arms once more.

Keep safe. Remember those who love you. Be home soon. 

Your loving Caroline 

Jack rested his head back against his high-backed chair and closed his eyes. He could picture Caroline sitting by her writing bureau and dipping her pen into ink as she composed this elegant letter. He folded it carefully and tucked it inside his coat pocket, as a talisman, whilst he picked up one of Sophie's letters. He smiled and opened it, beginning to read:

Dear Jack,

You would not believe the time we have had! First there was the great winter storm and the entire roof of the barn was torn away! Then a neighbour's dog worried all the chickens and they did not lay for days. As if that was not bad enough, the price of everything has jumped sky high because of this interminable war. I fear you may need to capture a dozen more ships to make up for the cost of living.

What a thoughtless woman I am to begin in this way- we are well and missing you. Pray God you are in good spirits and this letter finds you...

His smile broadened as he thought of his two women, so different and so dear to him, keeping his life and family safe for him back home. A warm glow stole over him, a quite absurd bliss, as he stared out through the great bow windows to the sea beyond. Another six weeks and he would be home! It would be high summer. There was much to thank God for - and even more to look forward to. His spirits raised, he poured himself a glass of wine and turned to the rest of the pile. The life of a post captain had much to commend it. He was a fortunate man.