by Lee Rowan
He looked at the figures and swallowed. The rest of the questions had been fairly simple, but he had never forgotten that the worst hurdle lay ahead. Navigation had always been his weakest subject, and he’d been dreading this.
Well, as Will always told him, it was only numbers. Just a problem. And what you did with problems was, you solved them.
He worked the calculations as he had done hundreds of times before, standing at the table with the paper and pencil provided. His mind went blank at the answer he produced. He’d shot the sun in locations all over the English Channel and the nearby Atlantic, but never come up with 51.11 N, 1.49 W… surely England, and just as surely no place he could moor a ship. And those numbers seemed familiar, somehow. One of Will’s silly games, giving him readings that made no nautical sense so he would learn to trust the numbers to tell him the truth.
And then the light dawned. “Salisbury Plain?”
“Are you asking or telling?” Captain James snapped.
He wanted to look at the chart but decided against it. “Salisbury Plain,” he said with a certainty he did not feel. “Very near Stonehenge, sir, if I’m not mistaken. Not an ideal mooring.”
Captain McLain’s neutral expression showed the hint of a smile. “Very good, Mr. Archer.” He cast a glance at the other captains. “Gentlemen?”
“I’m satisfied,” Captain Moore said. “Smith won’t send a man in until he knows his business.”
Captain James gave a grudging nod, and Captain McLain said, “If you will excuse us, Mr. Archer?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
He managed not to trip on his own feet while leaving the room, but his heart gave an odd lurch when Will looked up from the Naval Gazette he’d been reading, the question clear in his eyes.
Archer shrugged. “I’m to wait for the verdict. I think it went well.”
“They were quick,” Will said. “Or perhaps my own only seemed to take forever.”
“I believe they spent more time examining my papers than questioning me. And, Will, thank you for making me calculate readings no ship could navigate. They had me stationed at Stonehenge.”
Will laughed, an incongruous sound in that monument to serious purpose. “Did you guess it?”
“Yes, I recognized the latitude!”
At a whisper of sound behind them, they both became grave. Archer turned to see Captain McLain approaching, Archer’s service records in one hand and a new document in the other. “Sir?”
“Congratulations, Lieutenant Archer.” McLain’s broad face broke into a smile. “Go pay your shilling and take your oath, sir! And my compliments to Sir Paul, when next you see him.” He extended a hand first to Archer, then to Will. “Smith and I were midshipmen together,” McClain said. “I could hardly say so earlier, but you both have my thanks for helping him bring in that bastard.”
“It—it was our pleasure, Captain,” Archer managed. “But to tell you the truth, I prefer fighting the French.”
McLain laughed. “Indeed. A fair fight and no false colors. Good day to you both, gentlemen. And again, congratulations!”
“Are my feet touching the floor?” Archer inquired as they left the hall. “I can hardly tell. I passed, Will!”
“Of course you did, Lieutenant Archer,” Will responded. “Now let us do as the Captain commanded, and go take your oath so we may then find something to eat. Your head may be in the clouds, but my stomach says it’s been a long time since breakfast.”
“Back to the Lion?”
“Yes. But before we do that, I think we should go by your tailor’s establishment. I suppose it’s much too early for him to have finished our clothes, but we may as well let him know that you will be needing that new uniform as soon as possible.”
“A pity I wasn’t more confident yesterday,” Davy said. “It would be a fine thing to dine with my mother as a commissioned officer of His Majesty’s fleet.”
“Who knows?” Will said. “Perhaps he was inspired.”
MR. STRATFORD himself was waiting when they walked in the door. If he had been cheerful on their first visit, today he was positively gleeful. “Mr. Archer! Lieutenant Archer, I should say! You are just in time!”
Davy frowned. “In time for what?”
“To try on your new uniform, sir!” He cocked an eyebrow at Will. “I received your notice yesterday, sir, but I had already begun work as soon as you left the premises. In fact, I had a rough cut already made in blue superfine, waiting only for the particulars.”
“I thank you for your confidence,” Davy said, “but—”
Stratford turned to Will. “Sir, were you confident that Mr. Archer would pass his examination?”
“Of course!”
“And so was your uncle, sir, and you know very well that if you had somehow failed, I would be none the worse for having a spare uniform in stock. But it will fit you better than anyone else, so if you would step this way, please?”
Will found himself a comfortable chair in the area obviously designed for customers to wait and amused himself with the Gentlemen’s Magazine. Sometime later, he heard a slight sound and glanced up—and sat staring, speechless with delight.
Lt. David Archer, Royal Navy, was splendid from the cockade at the top of his bicorne to the mirror polish on his shoes. His brass buttons shone like so many miniature suns, his face was neatly framed by an immaculate dress shirt and neckcloth, and the gilt tassel that dangled from the scabbard of his dress sword drew Will’s eyes perilously close to where they should never go in public. Davy’s new breeches fit very, very well.
“Will I do?” he asked, with a mischievous grin.
“I should say so!” Will would have expounded on that theme if they had been alone, but Stratford appeared at that moment, beaming with well-deserved pride. The tailor’s presence helped Will get his admiration under control as he joined Davy in congratulating Stratford on a magnificent job done at lightning speed.
“And we’re to meet my mother for dinner,” Davy said, “so you’ve saved me the trouble of explaining my promotion. I may need to pick up smelling salts, just in case she swoons.”
Will thought privately that if the family tailor had known about it, the Countess might have already had a hint from her brother-in-law. He kept that notion to himself. Davy deserved the fun of surprising his mother.
“Lt. Marshall, I fear that your order is not yet ready—”
“Oh, think nothing of it. As you see, I’m not quite so polished, but they did allow me into the Admiralty this morning. And it would have been a shame to keep Mr. Archer in a midshipman’s attire one moment longer than necessary.”
Stratford looked relieved. “Come by on Friday, sir, and we’ll do you just as proud.” He hesitated. “Lt. Archer, might I prevail upon you to do me an enormous favor? I’ve wished to have a drawing made for some time now, to show our work to its best advantage. I realize it is a tremendous imposition, but if you could spare an hour or two while you’re in town…. The artist is not well-known, but he is extremely talented, he works quickly, and, of course, we could have the drawings made so your face would not appear in any commercial way….”
Davy looked aghast, but the idea caught Will’s imagination, and he thought of the prize-money he had in the bank, and what he could do with just a little of it. “Sir—do you think this artist could produce a small portrait from his drawings? We are only here until a week from Friday—”
“Will!”
“No, Mr. Archer, only consider! Your modesty does you credit, but put it aside for a moment. You joined the Navy at sixteen! Think how pleased your mother would be to have a likeness of you as you are now, a grown man and an officer.”
Davy opened his mouth to protest, and then Will saw that his words struck home. “She… she would like that. Very much. Perhaps I might arrange to have it delivered as a Christmas present.”
“Then you will sit for the drawings?” Stratford asked cautiously.
With a sigh, Davy said
, “In for a penny, in for a pound. If your artist can meet with us early next week, I’ll do it—but for no more than a day, and I must see an example of his work before I consider commissioning a portrait. And it had better be a small one. I haven’t much of my family’s fortune!”
“Of course. Thank you, sir! I shall do my best to have him here when you come by for Mr. Marshall’s uniform and your other items, if you let me know the time.”
Will guessed that Stratford was a shrewd businessman, quick to realize the benefits of a Countess showing her friends her handsome son in his equally handsome uniform—and with luck the artist would be pleased to have his work so displayed, as well. If he had any sense at all, Stratford would commission a portrait to hang in his shop—but, no, that might spark a great deal of jealousy amongst other Navy men.
The drawings would do that, anyway.
BACK TO the cab. David waited until the driver was up on his perch, out of earshot, before he said, “Will, I was ready to murder you.”
“I know. But he made a great deal of sense, Davy, and if the artist he means to use is the one who drew the pictures in his pattern book—did you notice those? They were original drawings, not prints—then the man has talent.” He looked a little wistful. “I would love to have a portrait of you myself, but it’s not the sort of thing I could keep in my sea chest without someone thinking it peculiar if I were to be killed. Of course, that wouldn’t matter to me, but it might damage your reputation.”
David’s throat closed at the thought of losing Will, and he coughed to clear it. “Nonsense. I’d just say you’d had it done for my mother and wanted to deliver it personally.”
“No.” Will shook his head regretfully. “It would be too foolish. As long as I have the real thing to gaze upon, I need no picture, and if I did not have you there… I’m not certain I could bear to look at a picture.” He bit his lip and changed the subject abruptly. “Shall we stop somewhere for a drink to celebrate your promotion?”
David shrugged. “The taproom at the Lion will do well enough. My mother will call for champagne at dinner, so we had best pace ourselves.”
“When we get to the Lion,” Will said, his voice surprisingly quiet, “I want to go straight up to our room… and tell you exactly how splendid you look in that uniform. I may find myself explaining in such detail that you will soon be out of that uniform.”
“What?” He turned to look at Will and found himself being visually devoured. He had known Will to be capable of passion, but he hadn’t ever seen him quite like this before. And that wild look in Will’s eyes sent a flush of arousal through his own body. He looked away because he had to, or he’d have fallen into those dark eyes and they’d both have been dead.
“I don’t know how it is,” Will said in that quiet voice that David now realized was a sign of tight self-control, “but the sight of you in that uniform makes me wish I could have my hands all over you this very minute. If we do not have a period to rest and refresh ourselves before we go to dine with your mother, I will be in the most severe discomfort for the rest of the day.”
“We had better do that, then,” David said. “I seem to be feeling the same way myself.”
BUT IT was not so easy. The innkeeper, alert to nuance, noticed that the Mr. Archer who had left in the morning had returned Lieutenant Archer, and he insisted on standing the two naval gentlemen to a glass of the establishment’s best brandy.
Naturally, the new lieutenant had to return the compliment—fortunately there were only a couple of other patrons on the taproom at the time—and he escaped as quickly as possible by pleading a command appearance at his mother’s, who had not seen him in five long years. “And I got hardly any sleep last night,” he improvised untruthfully, “so I’d very much like to catch a few winks to prevent falling asleep in my soup. I haven’t done that since I was out of short pants.”
He might have only bought tickets in Drury Lane, but he hadn’t forgotten that it was best to leave the audience laughing. He ordered up a farewell round to drink the King’s health, was promised a wake-up call in two hours, and followed Will up the stairs—he thought it prudent to be behind Will, rather than in front of him.
Will got the door unlocked, fumbling a bit, and threw his hat onto the bed.
Door locked. Keyhole blocked. Curtains drawn—and portmanteau set in front of the door to create a moment’s delay, just in case.
“If I may assist you with your coat, sir?” Will asked with exquisite courtesy.
“Thank you, sir,” David said politely, and grabbed Will with both hands, pulling his mouth down for a kiss. It burned like fire.
Will caught his hands, pushed them down, and worked the jacket off over his shoulders. Another moment, and Will pulled his mouth away. “Davy, damn it—we can’t do anything to wrinkle your clothes!”
“I know!” He was unbuttoning his waistcoat as fast as he possibly could, and as Will laid the coat carefully over a small chest at the foot of the bed, he got his neckcloth unfastened. “What about yours?”
“Let me look at you first.” But he wasn’t just looking. Will slid his hands under the waistcoat and eased that off, then the neckcloth. He bent to kiss David’s throat, a trace of heat cooled by breath that made him shiver. “Lieutenant Archer. May I congratulate you on your promotion?”
“Not until I get my breeches off!” David whispered urgently.
“Certainly, sir!” Will dropped to his knees and rubbed his mouth against the front flap of the new, uncomfortably tight breeches, opening the buttons as he teased.
David dug his fingers into Will’s hair. “Not yet.”
Will stood again, panting, and finished the job with the buttons. “Sorry.”
“Idiot.” Shaking his head, David rapidly removed the rest of his clothes while Will did the same. “There. I’m out of uniform. Better?”
“Much.” Will brushed his hair out of his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry. Don’t know what got into me.” His tone was apologetic, but his touch was not. He did what he’d said in the cab; he seemed to need to touch David everywhere, cradling his face as he kissed him, brushing over his back, his arse, his thighs, turning him around and resting his hot cock between David’s buttocks as he held him close.
“Let’s not bother with the bed,” David gasped. The wall was handy; he put both hands against it while Will reached around and brought him to a quick and explosive release.
Trust Will; he had a handkerchief there to catch the mess. Then Will was shivering against him, and they were both standing there weak-kneed and giddy.
But quiet. Even as they slid to the floor, they did it as silently as might be.
“Two-gun salute for a Lieutenant,” Will mumbled.
A COUPLE of hours later, a discreet tap at the door found them lounging around in shirtsleeves, reviewing the Times.
WILL NOTICED that Davy was watching him warily as they dressed, but he suppressed the impulse to tease. “Stand down, Mr. Archer, you are quite safe. Whatever it was that possessed me this afternoon seems to have passed out of my system.”
“I’m glad of that,” Davy said. “Not that it wasn’t delightful in its way, but I’m not sure either of us would survive if it became chronic.”
“If I hadn’t known we would have the privacy….”
“I understand. And we won’t have it very often, so I’m glad you did.”
Will nodded. Then he said, “Are you certain I won’t be intruding at your mother’s?”
“I’m certain I had better not appear without you if I value my life—and if you ask me once more, I’m going to find a pond and throw you in it. If you’d seen some of the louts my brother has dragged home to dinner, you’d realize how ridiculous that question is. My mother has been prepared to clasp you to her bosom ever since I wrote to her that you’d vanquished a bully who was making my life miserable. That was just a little over five years ago, so you might as well resign yourself. And no, I did not inflict the details on her. I just sa
id you thwarted him so thoroughly he left the ship.”
He frowned at the knot of his neck cloth and undid it for another attempt. “My eldest sister Mary Elizabeth will be there as well. She’s Lady Crandall—she will never let you forget it—and she’s in town because her daughter has just become engaged but fell sick with the flu. Mary’s come to my mother for help with their matrimonial frenzy. If we’re lucky we won’t have to hear too much about it. I wish it were Amelia visiting—you’d like her—but Mary tends to believe everyone thinks her husband’s family tree is as interesting as she does.”
“I can nod and ask unintrusive questions with the best,” Will said.
“I know you can. There is nothing to worry about. You will have a wonderful time.”
MUCH TO Will’s surprise, he did. Lady Grenbrook was a delightful woman, and Will saw immediately where Davy’s sunny personality came from. He was very like her in coloring, too, though her hair was now silver gilt, enhanced by the soft blues of her simple but attractive gown.
Lady Crandall was on her way out as they came in, lingering only long enough to greet her younger brother, allow him to present Will, and then hurry off in her landau. A previous engagement, she explained, made before she knew her brother was going to be in town this week, required her attendance. It had something to do with husband’s close associates, and she could not possibly offend by canceling at such short notice. She managed to make it sound as though the inconvenient timing had somehow been Davy’s fault. Will was just as pleased that she couldn’t spare the time.
Davy simply smiled. “That’s perfectly all right, old girl,” he assured her. “I didn’t know I’d be here myself until Saturday noon. Have a lovely evening. We’ll manage somehow. Perhaps you can find time next week—I’m taking Mr. Marshall to Astley’s! Would you care to join us?”
“You really should not tease your sister that way,” Lady Grenbrook said after the door had closed behind her daughter. “The poor girl has no sense of humor.”