Summary:Education begins a gentleman. Conversation completes him.
Category: Romance, drama, angst
Pairing: Horatio/Archie
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: "The Duel," "The Duchess and the Devil," "The Wrong War"
Notes
Disclaimer

Archie finished tying his stock and gazed at his reflection in the glass, pleased with the result. He brushed a speck of dust from the white revers of the jacket that he had retrieved from the tailor that very morning then readjusted the cuffs one last time. As a rule Archie was not overly fastidious in regard to his appearance, apart from making sure his uniform was clean and tidy and his queue properly tied, but then this was a special occasion.

He turned around to present himself for inspection.

"Well?"

Horatio unfolded himself from the chair where he was sitting and walked over to Archie. Horatio circled him slowly, his brow furrowed as if in deep contemplation, tapping a finger against his chin as he went. He completed his circuit and came to a halt in front of Archie, his expression grave.

Archie remained silent, but he knew the question was writ across his face. Horatio's serious expression melted into a warm smile. "You look every inch the fine officer in His Majesty's service, Lieutenant Kennedy."

Archie smiled in return, savouring the title and the thrill of its novelty. "Why thank you, Lieutenant Hornblower. I would say as much of you as well."

In truth Archie could say more. Horatio cut a most impressive figure in his uniform, tall and lean and fit, the mass of brown curls framing and softening the clear angles of his face. He was, Archie reflected, the very image of what a young naval officer should be. Not for the first time Archie envied him his height and wished that nature had bestowed another inch or two upon him, but he knew that it was not height alone that gave Horatio his appearance of distinction. Archie wondered if he'd ever be able to carry off that same air of command. In his darkest moments he feared he would not.

Archie pushed that thought away. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. He was of a mind to celebrate his singular good fortune and was pleased that he would have Horatio to share it with. His presence was a twice over blessing.

The letter confirming his commission had arrived in the latest batch of dispatches, along with orders for the Indefatigable to return to London. Archie had been delighted by both sets of news, since a return to London brought with it the promise of shore leave. When they received word, he and Horatio had begun to make plans. First and foremost, of course, was a new uniform. Even without his commission, Archie would have needed to visit a tailor as his own midshipman jacket was looking quite disreputable and his shirts and breeches had all been mended to the point where they seemed made more of thread and patches than their original cut of fabric. Horatio had mentioned a visit to the tailor for himself as well.

After that, they could enjoy the delights of London. There was so much to see and do. He would like to very much like to stop at Hatchard's on Piccadilly to see if there were any books that caught his fancy and remained within his relatively limited means. A trip to Drury Lane, to be sure. Archie had thrilled at the prospect of attending the theatre and they had both looked forward to the opportunity to renew their acquaintance with Miss Cobham. If they were truly fortunate, perhaps they would even see her perform. Although Archie had had that singular pleasure, Horatio, thus far, had not had the opportunity to see her treading the boards. That would be a rare treat indeed.

An even rarer treat had been the discovery that his sister Caroline was in town, though it had been tempered somewhat by her insistence that he attend a soiree she had planned for two days hence. Archie loathed such gatherings, as she well knew, but Caroline wheedled mercilessly. She even conscripted her husband's assistance in pleading her cause. Despite his best efforts to beg off, Archie knew it would be for naught. He had never learned the art of refusing his sister and truthfully she asked so little of him and gave so much in return it would have been most uncharitable to decline, especially after she had all but insisted that he bring Horatio along with him. The twin lures of pleasing his sister and watching the reserved Horatio in fine society proved too enticing and Archie acquiesced to his sister's request

Horatio, as expected, had been less than sanguine at the prospect.

"Archie, you know that I hate such affairs," he had replied with a heavy sigh. "I always feel a bit like a ship flying false colours in the midst of an enemy flotilla. It is simply a matter of time before the ruse is detected and I am exposed as a charlatan."

Archie had smiled wryly at that metaphor; only Horatio would put it in such terms.

"Horatio, you are hardly a charlatan, nor will you be there under false pretenses. My sister will be delighted to have you there. It was her idea in fact." Archie decided to make no mention of the fact that he himself had tried to use Horatio's presence as an excuse to beg off the evening.

Horatio looked unconvinced. "Really, Horatio, it is not as bad as all that. My sister and her husband are quite pleasant and their friends are not entirely objectionable. At least it's not a musical soiree," he added.

The grimace that twisted Horatio's features left no doubt about his feelings on that matter. "I don't know, Archie..."

"Think of it as an opportunity to practice your conversational skills. Miss Cobham was right about that, you know," Archie reminded him. "You need to become well versed in the art of conversation as you rise through the ranks. The sooner you master it the better. After all, you know the proverb: education begins a gentleman, conversation completes him."

Horatio pulled a face at Archie's words. "I'm not like you, Archie. I was not born to this as you were, nor do I have the singular gift for conversation that you do."

Archie flushed briefly at the compliment but plunged forward. "Nonsense. Conversation is merely another skill like any other. It can be learned and honed with time and practice. After all, you were not born knowing how to trim a sail or chart a course, were you?"

"Well of course not, but that is a different matter altogether."

"Not entirely, Horatio," he explained reasonably. "You used to hate heights, but now you climb the rigging without the slightest hesitation. It was simply a matter of setting your mind to it. Consider this to be a similar challenge. The fact that you dislike it simply means that you need to apply yourself more firmly to the task."

Archie could see that Horatio was wavering so he pushed the matter again.

"Oh come now, Horatio. I promised my sister that you would come. She would be devastated if you did not." He was wheedling now, he knew, but it would be worth it if he succeeded in gaining Horatio's assent.

Archie placed his hand on Horatio's forearm. He could almost imagine that he felt the heat of Horatio's body through the layers of wool and linen as Archie played his trump. "Please come. For my sake?"

Horatio heaved a great sigh, but when he looked at Archie he was smiling. "The things you get me into, Mr. Kennedy.  I am certain that you could talk Saint Peter out of the keys to the heavenly gates if you were of a mind to do so."

"And whatever would I need them for, Mr. Hornblower?" Archie replied, adopting his most guileless expression.

That earned him a laugh from the other man. "You are incorrigible, Mr. Kennedy, you truly are."

"And you are a faithful friend, Mr. Hornblower," he replied.

It was Horatio's turn to flush at the compliment. He was smiling still and his eyes were bright with laughter.  Archie could not help but think how comely he appeared at that moment.

"I am also a hungry one. I think it is high time that we go in search of some supper, don't you?"

Archie nodded his assent. "An excellent suggestion, sir. Lead on."

The sound of their laughter could be heard echoing along the hallway.

Now that the evening had arrived, Archie suspected that Horatio probably regretted his compliance. He would make no complaint, of course, nor lodge any protest. Horatio was a man of his word and he'd sooner walk through hellfire than break it. Archie only hoped that the evening would not prove too trying for either of them.

It was well past dusk when they descended from a carriage at Hanover Square. Archie could just see the austere silhouette of Saint George's in the twilight as he led Horatio to his sister's home, a rather unobtrusive looking townhouse faced in red brick.   

In contrast to the forbidding exterior, the interior was warm and brightly lit. The sound of voices and laughter wafted into the foyer as they awaited entrance. They did not have to wait long. Caroline hurried towards them, her fair hair catching the candlelight like a halo. With her puckish smile and dress of green muslin, Archie thought she looked more like a half-tamed wood nymph in captivity than a well-bred matron.

"Archie!" she said, grasping both his hands in hers as she gave him a frank appraisal. "Look at you! You look quite dashing, little brother," she beamed. "I do hope you won't break too many hearts tonight?"

"I give you my solemn vow not to," Archie replied gravely.

Caroline laughed and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek and then Archie began the introductions. "Caroline, I'd like to introduce Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower, of His Majesty's Frigate Indefatigable. Horatio, this is my sister Lady Bedford."

"Your Ladyship," Horatio said as he bowed gracefully.

Caroline's eyes twinkled. "It is a great honour to finally meet you, Lieutenant Hornblower. My brother holds you in the highest regard. Indeed, his letters are full of news of your exploits," she added archly.

Horatio blushed and Archie could feel his own cheeks warm. "Caroline, please. You are embarrassing Mr. Hornblower."

She rapped him smartly on the arm with her fan and gave him a saucy grin before her expression became serious. "In truth, Lieutenant Hornblower, I am most grateful for the care you have taken of my dear brother. I sleep easier knowing that he has a loyal friend such as yourself watching over him."

Horatio bowed his head. "I count myself most fortunate to have been granted the boon of your brother's friendship, Your Ladyship. I owe my life to him more than once."

Caroline gave Archie another measured glance. "It would appear that my brother has been overly modest in his correspondence. Perhaps you would be willing to recount some tales of my brother's exploits as he has not seen fit to share them with me himself?"

Horatio gave Archie an apologetic look; he merely shrugged in return. He knew better than to cross his sister.

"Of course, Your Ladyship. It would be my pleasure."

"Wonderful," she said, gracing Horatio with a bright smile. She turned to Archie. "I am going to steal your friend for a bit, dear brother. We shall talk again soon, I promise."

Archie nodded. "Of course, dear sister. Try not to corrupt him too much."

She smiled at Archie then threaded her arm through Horatio's and led him into the salon. Archie trailed behind them and watched as his sister took Horatio under her wing as he had known she would. Caroline was a gracious hostess and she had known without a word being imparted that Horatio was of a reserved nature. She would see to it that he made the appropriate acquaintances.

Assured that his friend was well taken care of, Archie went to pay his respects to his brother-in-law, the Viscount of Bedford. Something of a dilettante with a fierce passion for the arts, the viscount was an affable man of middle years who was quite well suited to his sister. He was certainly far more engaging than the other members of Archie's family and Archie had grown to like the man immensely. The viscount greeted him with a broad smile and then proceeded to recount with considerable enthusiasm the tale of his recent acquisition of a marble by Roubillac that he proclaimed even superior to the Davenant bust of Shakespeare. Knowing little to nothing of the plastic arts, Archie merely nodded and added his felicitations at the purchase until his host excused himself and returned to his other guests.

Archie procured himself a glass of wine, knowing that his brother-in-law prided himself upon his cellar almost as much as his collection of art works. He was not disappointed. Archie sipped his claret and let his gaze drift across the sea of faces, his eyes inevitably drawn to Horatio. It was an old habit, one so deeply ingrained he was no longer aware of the way he instinctively sought out the other man. Whether on the quarterdeck during the watch or in the heat of battle or in the mess as the officers sat around the battered table and shared stories over a cup, Archie was always acutely aware of the other man and his presence.

Horatio was engaged in conversation with a small knot of guests. Archie suspected that Caroline had introduced him to some of her less forbidding friends in order to ease him more gently into the murky and oft treacherous waters of polite society rather than merely throwing him overboard to see if he was capable of swimming. It would appear to have been a well thought out strategy; Horatio seemed less ill at ease now, the previous stiffness of his carriage gone.

Archie continued to watch Horatio. Even from where he stood, Archie could see the wrinkle in his brow that he recognized from long acquaintance as a sign that Horatio was in deep contemplation. Horatio nodded his head slightly then pursed his lips in prelude to speech. Archie could not hear the words from where he stood but he caught the ghost of laughter and saw Horatio's bright smile. It would appear that the perpetually sober Horatio had made a joke and that it had been well received. Archie hid his own smile behind his wine glass, feeling a bit like a teacher watching his prize pupil excel at exams.

Archie was well pleased. He knew that Horatio had this in him, had always had it within him, even if Horatio himself did not. It might not come as easily and effortlessly as mathematics did, but Horatio had that rare and innate talent to captivate an audience when he applied himself to that end. Archie knew this first hand; he had fallen under Horatio's thrall long ago, helplessly drawn by the earnestness of his plain, unembroidered speech, the sincerity of his sentiments and the passion of his ideals.

Archie had not exaggerated when he had said that Horatio would need to master these skills and the sooner the better. There was a greatness within Horatio, evident to anyone with eyes to see. Archie had seen it from the start, as had Clayton. Even Captain Keene, normally so blind to anything beyond his own mortal aches, had seen it. Unfortunately, so had Simpson, may he rot in Hell for all eternity. How could he not have? Of all of them, only Horatio had had the courage to challenge him, though that defiance had cost him dearly. Horatio would not yield, it was not in his nature to do so. It was that strength of resolve, more than anything that had wakened Simpson's violent enmity, an enmity that was to bear such bitter fruit for them all. But Horatio had triumphed over Simpson in the end just as he seemed to triumph over all other obstacles placed in his path. The Fates had smiled upon Horatio and it was clear that he was destined to go far.

Archie's private predictions had proven correct. Horatio had risen rapidly through the ranks and would continue to do so, of that Archie had no doubt. Certainly the continuing war with the French provided ample opportunity for advancement for a young officer gifted with talent, intelligence and ambition and Horatio had all three traits in excess. He would continue his rise-commander, captain, even admiral-to take his place one day among the greats like Nelson, Howe and Pellew

And one day he would go somewhere where Archie could not follow.

Another burst of bright laughter echoed from across the room.

Archie frowned and gazed into the dregs of his wine, its colour as rich and deep as rubies. Or blood.

He had never really considered it in those terms, but he knew it was true. It was by the most extraordinary stroke of fortune that they had served so long together, more remarkable still that it was Horatio who had find him rotting away in that damned Spanish prison. But perhaps that was not so surprising. After all, who but Horatio would have found him and then dragged him back from death itself by nothing more than the force of his indomitable will? The men of his division had said often enough that Horatio had the Devil's own luck and Archie could hardly argue when he himself was living proof of it. Lost and found, he was at Horatio's side once more, but for how long?  Surely such good fortune could not hold forever. The day would come when they would they would be parted, when one of them would be transferred, or promoted, or, the Lord forbid, killed. It was the way of things in the service, and in war most of all, and there was absolutely nothing that either of them could do to stop it.

In that instant, Archie could almost feel the moments ticking away, moving them that much closer to the inevitable separation.  He felt a chill run through him.

"My, what a serious countenance you are wearing, dear brother," a soft, sweet voice whispered in his ear.

He looked up, startled, into the smiling face of his sister. He flushed at the realization that he had become lost in his own sombre thoughts and watched as his sister's teasing smile was replaced by a frown.

"Why so melancholic?"  

She laid a delicate hand on his arm. He rested his hand upon hers briefly, then took it in his own and entwined their fingers with the ease of long familiarity. He looked down at their clasped hands and could not help but note the contrast between them. Her hand was so small and pale compared to his and her skin felt as soft as kid against his own skin, chapped from sun and brine and callused from the hard labour of shipboard life.

"I was just thinking..." he trailed off, unsure of how to explain and perhaps unwilling to even try.

"Of what?" she asked.

He shook his head and gave her a fond smile. "Nothing of consequence."

She studied him thoughtfully then reached up to trace the line that still furrowed his brow. "Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

Caroline looked as if she was going to comment further but chose to hold her tongue, for which he was most grateful.

"Your party appears to be quite the success," he said, wishing to change the subject of their conversation.

"Moderately so," she replied with all the modesty one might expect of  a well bred society matron. "Your friend Lieutenant Hornblower seems a very sober young man," she said, taking her own opportunity to change the topic once again.

"Yes, he is."

"Still, I rather like him. His earnestness is most refreshing. And it is clear that he thinks very highly of you, dear brother."

Archie smiled. "Well, the sentiment is mutual, I assure you. Lieutenant Hornblower is a credit to His Majesty's Navy. I consider it an honour to serve beside such a distinguished officer."

"How very odd; he said much the same of you, Archie."

"Do you doubt the veracity of his statement?"

"Oh no, quite the contrary. He has merely confirmed what I already knew, though I wish I had not had to pry tales of your daring from another."

Archie bowed of his head and adopted his most pompous expression. "A gentleman does not boast of his exploits, madam. 'Twould be most unseemly."

She sighed in fond exasperation. "'Tis true. Such modesty is most becoming of a true gentleman, but what, pray tell, would that have you do with you?"

"You wound me madam, truly you do!" Archie gave her a look of outrage that melted almost immediately into a warm smile. "Touché, dear sister. Touché."

Her laughter was warm and sweet and it lightened his mood considerably. "I must see to my guests. Promise me you will stop brooding and skulking about in the shadows, otherwise I will be forced to take action."

"Do I dare to ask what you are plotting?"

She gave him a wicked look. "The Earl of Langford's youngest daughter is somewhere about this evening. She has no dowry, you know, so her prospects are rather grim. The poor dear," Caroline added with a sigh. "I suspect that she might even be sufficiently desperate to consider you a suitable match."

Archie's look of horror was only partially feigned. "I'd sooner board a French frigate armed with nothing but a clasp knife and a spoon." He shook his head. "You are most cruel, Your Ladyship."

"As long as we understand one another, Lieutenant. Now, go and enjoy yourself." She leaned in and kissed his cheek once more before moving away to return to her guests. It was with a faint sense of regret that he released her hand from his. He missed its warmth almost immediately.

He watched her wend her way among her guests with the agile grace of Artemis herself, the jewelled pins in her hair flashing amidst the gilded strands of her hair. Archie procured himself another glass of his brother-in-law's excellent claret and followed his sister's admonition. It would not do for her to catch him brooding once again, and truthfully, he himself did not wish to dwell upon such sober reflections. Not tonight.

Archie made his way among the guests. He paused on occasion to smile and converse with a few of them, but he remained oddly restive. He wanted nothing better than to leave the confines of this lovely house and breathe the fresh night air and see the stars overhead. And although the wine was of a fine vintage, Archie found that he would almost prefer a mug of ale or even a spot of rum. He supposed he should be pleased; if that was not a sign of a true sailor, he did not know what was. Of course, what would please him even more would be to leave and take Horatio with him.

That thought gave Archie pause. After all, it had been his intention to give his friend the occasion to move about in polite society and hone his conversational skills. It would be most inconsiderate of Archie to deprive Horatio of that opportunity simply because he himself was now bored. Still, at the very least, he could see how his friend was getting on.

With that thought in mind, Archie scanned the salon, his eyes alighting almost immediately upon his friend. He smiled to himself as he took in the sight of Horatio who, it would appear, was most effectively trapped in a corner by the Duchess of Pembroke. The Duchess gazed upon his friend with an expression of rapt fascination while Horatio for his part looked distinctly uncomfortable at the attention. His posture was rigid and he kept tugging surreptitiously at the cuff of his jacket before he finally tucked his hands behind his back and out of sight. He continued talking, no doubt recounting some past military encounter to the captivated Duchess. Archie smiled to himself. If the Duchess was looking for a grand tale of adventure, she would be disappointed. It was not in Horatio's manner to boast, his native modesty making him a very poor narrator.

Horatio's normal reticence did not appear to deter the Duchess, however. She was standing quite close to Horatio now, her fan fluttering wildly and her pale bosom heaving with each breath she drew. Her face was composed in an artful manner, her red tipped lips curved into a smile that was surely intended as coquettish, but which appeared just a shade predatory to Archie's more experienced eye. As he watched the scene unfolding before him, Archie could think of nothing but a hapless deer trapped by a hungry wolf moving in for the kill.

With that image in mind, Archie decided to take pity on his friend and rescue him from the clutches of the overly enthusiastic Duchess.

"Your Grace," he said in his most pleasant tone as he sketched a short bow. "It grieves me to interrupt your conversation, but I regret that I have need to speak with Lieutenant Hornblower immediately."

The Duchess looked daggers at Archie. She regained her composure quickly, however, and managed to give him a cloying smile. "Of course. Who am I to stand in the way of military matters? Lieutenant Hornblower," she said as she shifted her attention back towards Horatio and extended her hand towards him "I do hope that we shall be able to continue this conversation at a later time?"

Horatio kissed her hand lightly and bowed a bit awkwardly, whether from nerves or relief Archie didn't know. "It would be an honour, Your Grace."

"Your Grace," Archie echoed in farewell as he clasped Horatio's elbow and drew him away from the Duchess.

Once they were out of hearing Horatio released a loud sigh. "Thank you, Archie. I am in your debt."

Archie smiled at that. His earlier pensiveness seemed to vanish all at once, like dew burned off by the morning sun, now that he was at Horatio's side once more. As always, the other man's mere proximity seemed to bolster his flagging spirits.

"You know, Horatio, most men would have enjoyed the company of a woman as lovely and as captivating as the Duchess of Pembroke."

"Well, I would be happy to stand aside so that they might avail themselves of the privilege."

"The Duchess seemed quite put out that I stole you away from her. No doubt you were regaling her with a tale of your daring exploits," Archie added mischievously, unable to resist the urge to tease his eternally serious friend.

"Hardly," Horatio replied.

"Oh?"

"I was explaining to Her Grace how to tack in order to avoid running aground on a shoal."

Archie chuckled. "Well, that must have made for a fascinating discourse."

"I had hoped that it might...dampen her enthusiasm a bit so that I could take my leave."

"A fine strategy, Horatio, but, alas, one doomed to failure. The Duchess is renowned for her perseverance. I am afraid that nothing short of a shot across her bow would have dislodged her."

Horatio cast him a sidelong glance. "Well, I can confirm the truth of that. She is quite...persistent. I was beginning to feel like a small woodland creature trapped outside its lair by a hungry predator."

Archie smiled again, not at all surprised that Horatio's thoughts so closely mirrored his own. That too was familiar. Then again, the Duchess was hardly subtle in her intentions.

"You should be flattered, Horatio. From what I have been told, the Duchess of Pembroke has an unerring talent for recognizing the most capable young officers. She is particularly fond of them, you know. Too fond, if half the stories are true," Archie added knowingly.

Horatio flushed. "Archie!"

Archie gave him a mischievous smile. "'Tis true. I have it on the best authority." He didn't need to explain that the "authority" was his sister. Horatio would come to that conclusion of his own accord.

Horatio looked thoroughly scandalized by the suggestion. "What of her husband?"

"The Duke of Pembroke has other distractions," Archie said. He nudged Horatio with his elbow then titled his head in the direction of a portly, red-faced gentleman who looked to be old enough to be his grandfather. He was seated at one of the tables playing whist. His foot was resting on a low stool, the ankle swelled and bloated with gout.

"The Duke?" Horatio asked in a low voice.

Archie nodded. "Be careful if you decide to sit a rubber of whist, Horatio. It's said that he cheats."

Horatio shook his head. "I think I am quite ill suited to such polite society, Archie. A warship is much more to my liking. At least on the open sea you can see the dangers looming on the horizon."

"True enough." Archie looked over at his friend. "Do you wish to leave?"

Horatio coloured slightly. "No! No," he reiterated more softly. "It would be rude to leave so early. I would not wish to offend your sister."

"Nonsense. Caroline would barely notice our absence. She wouldn't mind, Horatio, I assure you."

"Archie, I didn't mean to drag you away as well. Surely you would wish to stay?"

Archie gave Horatio a horrified look. "You would abandon me to this nest of vipers and reprobates?"

"No! Of course not!" Horatio declared fiercely. Archie's lips began to twitch upwards in amusement and Horatio's earnest expression was replaced by a scowl as he realized he was being teased.

"That was most unkind, Mr. Kennedy."

"I'm sorry. My most sincere apologies, Mr. Hornblower." Archie smiled sympathetically "This isn't a penance, Horatio. We need not stay any longer if you wish to go." He paused and looked sincerely at his friend. "In truth, I am bored beyond measure here as well. I only agreed to come in the first place because if I did not Caroline would have started to cry. She can be quite heartless and is not above shedding a few tears to get her way."

"Archie! That's a terrible thing to say about your sister!" Any sting from the words, however, was tempered by the smile curving Horatio's lips.

"I speak only the truth, Horatio, and she herself would be the first to admit it."

Horatio shook his head. "You Kennedys are a most peculiar lot."

"Actually the Kennedys are a quite sober clan. It's my mother's side of the family that has all the rapscallions. But that is neither here nor there. Shall we go, Mr. Hornblower?" Archie asked, sweeping his arm before him.

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy."

They made their way to the foyer, both men keeping careful watch for a reappearance of the predatory Duchess. They need not have bothered. Disappointed by her thwarted liaison with the navy, the Duchess had opted to stay land-bound. She had found herself a handsome young army officer, the red of his jacket a stark contrast to her pale blue gown as they conversed near the fireplace, their heads close together.

"The indignity," Archie said, leaning in close to whisper.

Horatio's face was a study in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"Why, being thrown over for a lobster, of course! How can His Majesty's Navy bear such an insult?"

The small snort that escaped from Horatio spoke eloquently of his lack of distress on that matter. "I'm sure it will manage, Archie. Unless, of course, you're willing to take up the gauntlet and defend our honour?"

"I believe that my suit would be received most coldly after stealing you away from her, I'm afraid," he replied in a mournful tone. "No, I think it best if we leave the Duchess to the army and their service. They are more accustomed to well mapped terrain then we."

Horatio was unable to completely smother the laugh that bubbled up at that last remark. Archie, in contrast, remained the picture of innocence, though the guise would not have fooled anyone of his acquaintance.

They found Caroline near the foyer embroiled in a lively discussion with several of her guests. Horatio hung back as Archie went to offer their farewells. Caroline pulled him close and took malicious delight in introducing him as her "brave and dashing little brother," whose heroic exploits were too numerous to recount. She smiled brightly at his discomfort as she exacted a little bit of revenge for what she perceived as Archie's reticence in his correspondence. When Archie told his sister of their intention to leave, however, she made no attempt to hide her disappointment.

"So soon?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But it's still early," she complained.

"Not for a sailor on shore leave, dear sister. We have but little time and much to see and do before we are called back to the sea and His Majesty's Service."

Caroline pouted and Archie began to fear that their escape might not be as easy as he had anticipated. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Horatio who was watching him attentively. Archie made a decision and he hoped that Horatio would not be to cross at his intentions. He leaned in closer.

"I regret that the unfortunate Lieutenant Hornblower has already had an encounter the Duchess of Pembroke," he murmured into her ear. " She was most...persistent. A second encounter would no doubt prove extremely awkward for a gentleman of Mr. Hornblower's...sensibilities" He let the words hang.

Caroline's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, yes, of course. I quite understand." She patted Archie's hand where it rested in her arm, then extended her hand towards Horatio who dutifully stepped forward to take it in one of his own.

"Your Ladyship."

"Lieutenant, my brother informs me that you must depart. I am most disappointed that we must be deprived of your company so soon, but I do understand the necessity. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

"The pleasure has been all mine, Your Ladyship, I assure you," Horatio replied before he placed a chaste and courtly kiss against her knuckles.

"You are most welcome to visit us any time you are in London, Lieutenant." She cast a playful glance in Archie's direction. "And you need not bring my rascal of a brother with you."

Archie chuckled, not in the least offended by his sister's sly proposal. He recognized it for the pleasantry it was.

"It would be an honour, Your Ladyship," Horatio said. He flicked his eyes in Archie's direction and there was a bright spark of amusement in their depths that pierced Archie through.

Archie cleared his throat awkwardly. "We should take our leave. We would not wish to deprive the other guests of either your company or your wit."

Caroline laughed. "You are too saucy by half, dear brother, but I love you all the more for it."

Archie took his sister's hand and bowed deeply before her. Like Horatio before him, Archie kissed her hand graciously and sent her an amused look across the top of her knuckles.

"Goodnight, Your Ladyship," he said once he had righted himself once more.

Caroline's answering smile was warm with none of its earlier teasing. "Good night, dear brother, Lieutenant Hornblower."

The two young officers dipped their heads in unison then withdrew from the premises.

Archie sighed as the door closed behind them, muting the sounds of voices and laughter to a mere whisper. He drew a deep breath of fresh evening air and glanced over at Horatio who looked every bit as relieved by their escape as Archie himself.

The evening was clear and bright with just the faintest of spring chills lingering in the air. Still, after the somewhat oppressive warmth of his sister's salon, the coolness of the night felt like a balm. They descended unto the square. It was largely deserted and relatively quiet, apart from the sound of carriage wheels rolling across cobblestones and the clack of horses' hooves nearby.

Horatio shot him a smile. "So, Mr. Kennedy, what do you propose we do with our newfound liberty?"

Archie pursed his lips thoughtfully then gazed up at the clock tower of St. George's. He considered their options. It was far too early to retire, of that there was no question. They could make their way to Drury Lane, but he knew that most of the performances would be well underway by the time they arrived. Of course, they could always find themselves a tavern and get as drunk as lords, or head down to the docks to search for some feminine company which whom to idle away the remainder of the evening. Neither of those possibilities appealed to Archie and he suspected the same was true of Horatio.

And then an idea came to him and he turned to Horatio, smiling broadly.

"Vauxhall Gardens!" he announced triumphantly. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that before?"

"What?"

"Vauxhall Gardens!"

Horatio shook his head. "I'm afraid I've never heard of them."

Archie stared at his friend, stunned. "You've never heard of them? How could you not have heard of them? Honestly, Horatio, what am I do with you?"

Horatio shot him an exasperated glare. "Unlike you, Archie, I didn't spend a good portion of my dissolute youth in London. I've been here precisely two times in my career, and one of them was in the company of Captain Pellew. Strangely enough, he made no mention of gardens, Vauxhall or otherwise."

Archie nodded, chagrined.  "I am sorry, Mr. Hornblower. Please accept my abject apologies for my ill-considered remarks." Horatio's countenance softened at the apology. Archie continued. "Still, this is all the more reason why you must go there if I have any hope of completing your woefully incomplete education."

"Should I be alarmed, Mr. Kennedy?" Horatio asked, his expression now mildly wary.

"Of course not, Horatio. You trust me, do you not?"

Horatio gave him a smile. "Of course I trust you, Archie. I always have. So, how do we get there?"

Unaccountably warmed by Horatio's words, Archie couldn't help but smile in return before he turned his mind to consider his friend's query. "It's a goodly distance from here. It's on the other side of the Thames, in Lambeth." He paused, frowning in thought. "We'll need to get a carriage to Westminster. From there, we should be able to get a boat to take us across to the Vauxhall Stairs. Yes, that should do it."

He looked at Horatio and received a nod of agreement. "Well, let us be on our way, then."

Archie's plan worked surprisingly well. They had little difficulty finding a carriage that creaked and jostled its way across town. Finding a boat proved even easier; there were any number of them milling about, set to ferry people across the Thames towards the pleasure gardens of Vauxhall. They crowded into one of them, along with another party of pleasure seekers and then drifted lazily down river, the rocking of the boat far more familiar and less unpleasant than the jolting of the carriage had been.

The landing at Vauxhall Stairs was crowded with boats and passengers who had come to avail themselves of lovely spring evening. They made their way across Vauxhall Row amid the gathering throng of people to finally reach the entrance where they paid their shilling and passed through the gates to the gardens beyond.

It had been years since Archie had last been here; not since he had joined the service, in fact. He was pleased to see that Vauxhall had changed very little in the intervening years. The broad, winding promenades were still filled with merrymakers. The trees were still strung with hundreds of lanterns that glittered and sparked and gave the garden a fey quality at odds with mundane aspect of the world beyond its gates. The supper boxes still teemed with boisterous parties who laughed and sang and cajoled their companions and passersby. The gaily-painted rotunda where the orchestra performed still dominated the lawn and he could hear the sweet sounds of organ and pipes as they wafted on the evening air in counterpoint to the rich timbre of laughter.

Archie gazed over at his companion, gratified by the look of wonder that graced his features, knowing that his own countenance surely bore a similar expression. Archie was well aware that he was of a more sentimental nature than his pragmatic friend who was rarely moved by the ephemeral caprices of the physical world.  At present, however, Horatio wore a rapt expression that Archie had glimpsed on but a few rare occasions as he gazed at the ocean or studied the canopy of stars overhead. To see him enchanted by something so earthbound was a marvel to behold and Archie reveled in the moment of shared pleasure.

Perhaps feeling eyes upon him, Horatio turned to look at Archie, beaming with delight.  Archie felt his breath catch suddenly in his chest to finding himself the recipient of that fervent gaze.

"This is wonderful, Archie! You were quite right!"

Archie gave his companion what he hoped was a passable facsimile of a smile. He took a breath to calm nerves that were suddenly and unaccountably animate. The smile came more easily afterwards.

"I am glad that you approve." He was relieved that his voice sounded normal to his own ears. "Perhaps you would care to take a turn about the gardens. Mr. Hornblower?" he proposed with undue formality

"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Kennedy," Horatio replied, adopting the same tone and manner. "Lead on, sir."

They strolled along the serpentine walkways illuminated by the golden glow of the globe lamps overhead. Interspersed along the way were small bowers with stone benches that more often than not were occupied by a pair of lovers who wished to enjoy the illusion of privacy afforded them. The first time they encountered one Horatio had flushed and turned his head steadfastly forward. Archie had smiled but made a point thereafter to steer them clear of such intimate locales.

The walkways were filled with people partaking of the cool night air. They passed a group of young ladies, their brightly coloured gowns giving them the allure of a flock of exotic birds from some remote locale. The two officers bowed deeply to the young women who gazed coyly back above the edges of fans that fluttered like hummingbird wings, while their chaperone, a sturdy woman of middle years, clucked and scolded and shepherded her charges away. Archie and Horatio exchanged amused glances as they watched the young ladies continue on their path, their skirts trailing behind them like plumage, peals of high, sweet laughter floating after them like the trill of birdsong.

"This really is quite extraordinary, Archie," Horatio observed as they passed the Chinese pavilion painted in garish shades of red and gold.

"There's a mock ruin of a castle somewhere off in that direction and some fish ponds as well," Archie said with a vague gesture of his hand. "Of course, there are some other less reputable parts of the gardens that way as well. The Druid's Walk and, of course, the aptly named Lover's Walk."

"Ah, I believe I can guess what goes on there."

"I rather thought you, might. It is worth a young lady's reputation to tread along certain paths within these walls."

"And for an officer in His Britannic Majesty's Navy?" Horatio asked, quirking his brow.

"I daresay our reputations will remain secure. At present I am more concerned with the state of my belly than I am with phantom threats to my reputation, such as it is."

"Well, supper it is then."

They made their back towards where the supper boxes resided and succeeded in procuring themselves a place at the end of one of the trestle tables. In short order they each had a mug of the ale that Archie had been musing upon so fondly at his sister's soiree. He took a deep draught and closed his eyes, savoring the tang of the dark amber brew. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Horatio looking back at him with amusement."

"I have been looking forward to that all evening," he said.

"Spoken like a true sailor, Lieutenant Kennedy."

His friend's words once again so clearly echoed his own thoughts that Archie couldn't help but laugh.

"What is so amusing, Archie?" Horatio asked as he quickly wiped a bit of foam from his chin with the back of his hand.

"Nothing, really. It is just that earlier this evening when we were at my sister's house I had a glass of my brother-in-law's fine claret. It was very good, of course, but what I really wanted was a mug of ale. I remember thinking at the time that surely that must be the sign of a true sailor."

"That it is. Along with a fondness for ship's biscuit and the ability to sleep in a hammock without falling out every five minutes."

Archie pulled a face. "Well, I could do without the biscuit, thank you very much. This," he said brandishing a chunk of soft bread, "is much more to my liking."

Horatio nodded, chewing on his own piece of bread. "I am in complete agreement on the subject."

They'd ordered a light supper, ale and bread and some of the cold ham for which Vauxhall was renowned. "They say that it is cut so thin that the carver could cover the entire gardens with the slices from a single ham," Archie explained to his friend when they had both winced at the exorbitant cost of the meal. Horatio had held a slice of the ham up to study it, fascinated to see that the meat was indeed so thin and so translucent that lights shone through it as if it were a pane of coloured glass. They'd exchanged smiles and set themselves to their repast, eating with considerable enthusiasm. The meal was an indulgence to be sure, but they both knew that they needed to gather up as many joyful memories on shore as they could to temper the harshness of life at sea. In the months to come the memory of the aroma of freshly baked bread and the taste of finely cured ham would serve as a talisman against the endless parade of dry biscuits and gruel and boiled beef.

They sat in companionable silence for a time sipping their ale and enjoying the spectacle around them, so different from their lives shipboard. Oh, the boisterousness they well knew; life below decks was often raucous. But here they could delight in the novelty of sights and sounds not found at sea. They could breath in air rich with the scent of fresh hewn grass and ladies' cologne rather than the tang of salt. They could eat good food and watch as pretty young women showed off their finery to comely gentlemen who preened and pranced like young cocks, fighting for their attentions, and listen to the music from the orchestra and the high sweet notes of a woman's voice singing.

Archie leaned back on his bench and sighed with contentment. His earlier melancholia had seemingly fled, driven out by the pleasantness of the surroundings, but most of all by the company. He cast a quick glance at his companion. He should not have been surprised. Horatio had always had the knack for banishing Archie's darker mood with little more than his steadfast presence or the occasional smile. So long as Horatio was nearby, there was nothing that Archie could not endure.

Until the inevitable day when fate took Horatio from him once and for all.

That treacherous thought smashed his pleasant mood like a shot from a twenty-pounder. Archie had thought he had exorcised that melancholy thought from his mind and its sudden resurgence was most unwelcome. He took a sip of his ale to conceal his disquiet and frowned when he realized that he had drained the mug dry.

"Archie?"

He plastered a faint smile on his face. "It would seem that I am out of ale."

"Well, we can't have that," Horatio replied. If he had noticed Archie's discomfort he made no comment. Archie relaxed fractionally, though he remained as tense as a freshly tuned harp string.

Horatio waved his hand to gain the attention of one of the serving wenches and was met with immediate success. The girl, a pretty little thing with apple cheeks and warm brown eyes, smiled brightly at Horatio and fluttered her lashes brazenly. Typically Horatio remained oblivious to such blandishments. Nevertheless, the girl returned promptly with two tankards filled to the brim and she flushed rosily when Horatio thanked her for her efforts.

Archie found the exchange amusing, yet strangely unsettling for reasons he did not entirely understand and which he pushed aside lest he dwell on them over much.

"I believe you have an admirer, Mr. Hornblower," Archie teased once the girl was out of earshot.

"What?"

"That serving girl. She was flirting with you, you know."

Hortatio blinked, his expression so bemused that Archie could not help but laugh. "Come now, Mr. Kennedy, I am sure you are imagining things."

Archie shook his head. He wondered how his friend, so perceptive in other matters, could remain so obtuse on the subject of his own considerable charms. "I am not, Horatio. She appeared to be quite taken with you." He leaned and whispered in his friend's ear. "In fact, I do believe that if you asked her to accompany you on a stroll through the Lover's Walk, she would not refuse."

The look that Horatio shot him was quite disapproving. "You are quite mistaken, Archie. Besides, I am not interested in a crude dalliance with a serving girl."

The coolness of his tone brought Archie up sharply. "My apologies, Horatio. I did not mean to give offense," he said, genuinely contrite. Horatio's rather stern expression softened at once.

"I'm not offended, Archie. I'm simply not interested."

Archie nodded. He wondered if that was true or if Horatio's reserve had more to do with his relative inexperience with the fairer sex. He wished to ask, but knew of no way to put forth such a delicate query without giving further affront, so he let the matter drop.

They drank in silence once more and Archie closed his eyes and let the coolness of the night air wash over him. When he opened his eyes again it was to find Horatio watching him once more, his lips curved upwards in a soft smile.

"I have not yet thanked you, Archie."

"For what?"

"For the invitation to your sister's home and for the opportunity to hone my conversation skills, such as they are. It was most kind of your sister to have invited us."

"There is no need to thank me, Horatio. I believe that my sister was most pleased to be able at last to put a face to the name that appears in my letters."

Horatio gave him a sweet, winsome smile that made him look younger than his years. "I quite liked your sister. You are a great deal alike, you know."

Archie laughed at that observation. "Oh, yes, we know that well. We've been told oft enough that we're a pair of Gilmour changelings amid the Kennedy brood."

"Gilmour...that's your mother's side of the family then?"

Archie took a quick sip of ale raising his other hand quickly to swipe at the errant liquid that slid down his chin.

"That's right. The Kennedys and the Gilmours have been marrying together for generations, since the days of King James II, or so I've been told. The familial estates border one another, you see, so it was always considered prudent to keep the ties strong. You're less likely to make war against your neighbors if you're tied by marriage and by blood."

Horatio nodded. "That makes sense."

"The funny thing is, the Kennedys and the Gilmours are nothing alike. You could never mistake one for the other, even on sight."

He took another quick sip of ale before continuing. "Both my brothers and my elder sister Anne are Kennedys through and through, all dark and brooding. Very serious. But Caroline and I take after our mother and the Gilmour side of the family. His Lordship was always mildly vexed by that fact, I believe."

"And your mother?"

"I think she was secretly pleased by it, though she never said such a thing to either Caroline or myself." He smiled mischievously. "We were a rare handful as children. Anyone who knew the family history could tell right off that we had more of the Gilmour blood in our veins than the Kennedys'."

"And you didn't mind?" Horatio asked, openly curious.

"Not at all. Frankly, it was a relief. It's not that I dislike my elder siblings, you understand. They are fine examples of the well-bred nobility. They're just...well, rather dull. It's a Kennedy family trait." He gave Horatio a conspiratorial smile.

"The Gilmours, though, well they're a far more colourful clan than the Kennedys. For instance, there was my...let's see, he would have been my great, great grand uncle John, if I'm remembering correctly," Archie began thoughtfully, his eyes going distant.  "He was the heir to the estate and was betrothed to the daughter of one of the local lords-not a Kennedy-praise be. Six months before the wedding he ran away and married the daughter of the village blacksmith. It was, as you can imagine, quite the scandal."

"I can indeed. Did he inherit the title?"

Archie shook his head. "No. Though by all accounts, he was pleased to be free of it. He became a carpenter and raised a brood of little bairns with his wife."

"Sounds like he was happy in the end," Horatio observed.

"Yes, he was. Of course, that was nothing compared to the scandal caused by my great uncle Hugh."

Horatio gazed at him, the question evident in his eyes

"I've not told you of my great uncle Hugh, Horatio?"

"I don't recall the name."

Archie nodded then leaned forward to rest his forearms against the tabletop. "Hugh was the youngest of the three sons of Lord Gilmour. He was studying at university in Edinburgh when Bonny Prince Charlie arrived. Hugh was so moved by his person he joined his army on the spot."

"Really?"

"Yes, he was part of the force of six-thousand that marched out of Holyrood."

"What happened to him?" Horatio asked, eyes wide with fascination.

"He was killed at Culloden. The tale is all the sadder because his older brother James was in the service. He was an aide-de-camp for the Duke of Cumberland, who commanded the British forces. He was killed in the battle as well."

"Dear Lord," Horatio muttered.

"I know. Their father was devastated, not only by the loss of his two youngest sons, but by the fact that one of them had died a traitor to the crown." Archie shook his head sadly. "It may have been a grace in the end. If great uncle Hugh hadn't been killed in battle, he most likely would have been hanged for treason."

"It was treason, Archie."

"I know," he agreed, his voice soft. "Still...I find that I cannot truly condemn him for his actions. Yes, he raised arms against the crown, but he did so in the defense of a cause that he truly believed was just. He was willing to lay down his life for his beliefs and in the end he did precisely that."

Archie paused and gazed into his tankard's depths for a long moment, trying to find the words to explain the sentiments that this story had always stirred within him. There was no wisdom to be found there, however, so he looked up, his gaze locked on that of his companion. "I think that there is no nobler sacrifice than to give your life for something that you truly believe in, even if the act is treasonable in the eyes of the world."

Horatio frowned deeply at that remark, his brows drawing tightly together. "But what of duty, Archie? What of honour?"

Archie shook his head. "The two are not always by necessity in accord, Horatio, and most certainly not in matters pertaining to war. You of all people remember our mission to Muzillac." Horatio's frown deepened further at the evocation of that accursed place but Archie plunged on. "It was our duty to go there and aid the French Royalists under General Charette and Montcoutant, and we did so. But there was no honour in that mission. Not for any of us."

"I know," Horatio replied softly. "But still we had to go."

"Yes, we did, because duty dictated that we do so. But honour should have made us pause." He leaned in more closely, his gaze suddenly fierce. "Surely, Horatio, there are times when the only way to retain one's honour is to follow one's own conscience, regardless of duty, or orders or regulations."

"Perhaps," Horatio agreed. His voice had gone soft and hesitant. "But there's a high price to pay for such a course of action, no matter how noble or necessary it might seem."

Archie nodded. "Yes, but if given the choice between following the dictates of honour and of my own conscience, I would choose the latter."

They sat together like that for several long moments, gazes locked, their heads now so close together they almost touched, until Horatio took a breath and leaned back, breaking the spell.

"You are quite the philosopher tonight, Mr. Kennedy," he observed. His voice sounded... odd...to Archie's ears, though he couldn't quite identify the emotions underlying it.

Archie laughed a bit uneasily. "I apologize for my lapse. This is what happens when I'm in my cups. There is only one solution."

"And that is?"

"More ale, of course!"

"Of course," Horatio agreed with a somewhat strained affability. Archie, however, appreciated the effort. Horatio beckoned to the pretty serving girl to bring them another round.

An awkward silence fell between them. They drank their ale and cast troubled glances at one another when each believed the other was not looking. The pleasant mood that had enveloped them both throughout the evening had fractured and Archie was unsure of how to set it to rights. They were supposed to be celebrating their good fortune-their long overdue shore leave, Archie's commission, their very survival after so many engagements with the enemy-not mulling over such bleak philosophy. He took another sip of ale and looked up from his mug to see Horatio's eyes upon him, just as he had so many times before. Horatio's gaze was thoughtful, probing yet gentle, as if Archie was some mathematical problem that Horatio was struggling to resolve. He felt another pang of guilt that he had ruined the once agreeable evening with his gloomy thoughts and determined to salvage the situation as best as he was able.

"So, Mr. Hornblower, what shall we do with ourselves on the morrow?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as light as he met Horatio's cautious gaze. "We have not been to Hatchard's yet. You said you wished to obtain a copy of Ovid if one could be found for a reasonable sum. That would be the place to try and besides Piccadilly is always quite lively," he suggested, pushing onward. "Or perhaps we could go the Drury Lane to pay our respects to Miss Cobham. I'm sure she would be delighted to see you again, Mr. Haitch." He pronounced the last in a near perfect imitation of the "Duchess of Wharfdale's" lilting drawl. As he had hoped, it elicited a smile from Horatio, though he was startled by its radiance.

"Well, it would seem that we are in luck in that regard, Archie," Horatio said, his eyes alight.

"Oh?"

"I was informed by one of your sister's acquaintances that Miss Cobham is presently treading the boards."

Archie perked up at that. "In what play?"

"'The School for Scandal'. I confess, I've not heard of it before, but I am not terribly knowledgeable about such things."

Archie was, however. "It's a piece by Sheridan. He wrote 'The Rivals,' as well."

"Ah," Horatio said, that one word carrying with it a wealth of meaning though he did not elaborate upon it.

"It's a comedy. Not Shakespeare, of course, but it is said to be most entertaining. We must go tomorrow evening."

"Agreed."

That decision made, some of the earlier tension drained away to be replaced by a tentative sense of well being. Archie, of course, was pleased to have the opportunity to attend the theatre, an entertainment so rarely available to him. But more than that, it was quite evident that Horatio was delighted to have a chance to see the clever Miss Cobham, at least if that bright smile of his was any indication. Such a small indulgence, really, to make Horatio happy and Archie was more than willing to do anything that would bring a smile to his friend's normally serious countenance.

They finished their ale and discussed further plans for the coming days. A week's shore leave was fairly generous, but they both knew from experience that the time passed far too quickly, like a handful of sand that slid through the cracks between one's fingers. Four days already gone and still there was so much left to do.

Suddenly, a loud cracking sound, like the thunder of distant cannon, interrupted the night. Archie's body tensed as his head swiveled in the direction of the sound. He relaxed just as quickly though as the sky erupted in a riot of light and colour. He'd been so caught up in his conversation with Horatio that he had missed the bell announcing the fireworks entirely. There was another dull rumbling sound, followed by another explosion of sparks that danced and fluttered before floating downwards to fade from view. Horatio shot him a smile and laughed like a schoolboy. It was a wonderful sound, as warm and rich as honey and it pulled Archie along like the tide.

Horatio returned his attention to the spectacle overhead but Archie continued to watch his friend instead. His face was tilted skyward and his features overlaid in a shimmer of red and gold. Horatio wore that extraordinary expression of rapt fascination once more and when he turned to look at Archie, he felt as if his heart might explode like one of the Chinese rockets being shot into the night sky. Their eyes met and Archie hoped that Horatio would assume that it was the light cast by the fireworks that colored his cheeks and not a sudden rush of discomfiture. Horatio smiled at him then and there was a question in his eyes, nestled amid the coloured sparks of light reflected in their depths. He held his breath for a long moment and then Horatio nodded as if he had found the answer he was seeking, though Archie could not begin to fathom the query.

Archie turned away and tilted his head back to watch the fireworks. They seemed oddly muted now, as if their brightness had been leeched from them, like the colours in an old engraving faded with time. Even the sound of the explosions seemed fuzzier somehow. He could feel Horatio's eyes upon him, but kept his gaze heavenward, resisting the urge to look at Horatio once more. It was an effort that cost him dear.

Colour and light blossomed overhead and then, almost as soon as it had begun, it was over. Archie turned slowly to look at his companion. Sure enough Horatio was watching him again with those serious eyes of his.

"It's late, Archie," he said in a soft voice. "Perhaps it is time for us to return to our lodgings."

He nodded and stood, pleased that the effects of the ale had dissipated somewhat. They had a ways to go to and it would be an even longer trip if they were not steady on their feet. Horatio rose as well and came to stand at Archie's side. He rested his hand on Archie's shoulder for a moment, his fingers pressing into muscle and bone with the gentlest of pressure, before he removed it entirely. Archie missed the touch immediately.

Their return journey proceeded in much the same manner as their arrival, now merely in reverse. A small boat deposited them on the other side of the Thames, this time farther up the river, not far from the Customs House. They were near enough to their lodgings to walk the remainder of the way so they did just that.

They had taken a room at an inn off Fenchurch Street, not far from the Tower. That was yet another indulgence, but of a far more practical nature. The Lion's Head was a bit more expensive than the taverns closer to the docks, but the rooms were clean and tidy and the food in the common room far better than the fare they had encountered elsewhere. It also accommodated a more respectable clientele, which was a welcome change to the two young officers who had been awakened more than once on previous leave by scuffling brawls in the hallway or the raucous sound of drunkards singing shanties violently off key in the common room below. The peace and quiet alone was the cost of a few extra coppers.

The common room, as expected in such a proper establishment, was dark and deserted when they arrived, the fire banked low for the night. They climbed the stairs to their room, the faint creak of wood sounding unusually loud in the silence.

The room they had reserved was small but immaculate and best of all it housed a bed that was larger and more comfortable than what they were accustomed to. The chill of the evening had seeped into the room and Archie shivered. Grabbing a taper from the bedside, he lit it from the lantern in the hallway. Returning to their room, he closed the door behind him and set about lighting another candle before handing the taper over to Horatio who used it to light some of the kindling in the fireplace. Within minutes, the room was lit by the cheery glow of the candles and the warmth emanating from the hearth.

Archie collapsed against the bed and threw an arm across his eyes. He sighed in delicious pleasure at the softness of the ticking beneath him and at the sheer relief of being off of his feet at last. He knew he should probably wrestle off his boots, but at the moment that seemed too much of a bother. The rich sound of Horatio's laughter drew his attention. He removed his arm and squinted upwards into the amused face of his friend.

"Tired, Archie?" he asked as he began to unbutton his jacket.

"Exhausted. But please don't tell me you are not?"

"Rest assured, I am as exhausted as you. It's been a long day."

Archie nodded and watched distractedly as Horatio laid his jacket across the back on one of the chairs and proceeded to remove his waistcoat and stock. Stripped down to breeches and linen shirt, he walked over to the washstand nestled in the corner. Horatio poured some water into the ceramic basin then set about his nightly ablutions. It was a scene Archie had witnessed a hundred times, either on shipboard or on leave, but for some odd reason he found his eyes riveted to the picture laid out before him.

The light from the candle gilded Horatio's profile and turned the thin linen of his shirt translucent. Archie could almost see the muscles of his friend's back shifting beneath the fabric as he raised his arms and splashed water against his face and neck. Of their own accord his eyes drifted lower, and he could not help but note the way the crisp white duck of his new breeches clung and molded against his long legs and the swell of his rump. It was not, however, the skill of the tailor's art, however, that held his attention, but rather the strong young body encased within, warm and supple and utterly forbidden.

Archie coloured as those thoughts flashed through his mind and he turned his head away, lest Horatio catch him staring so brazenly.

"Archie?"

He looked over to see Horatio standing near the bed. He had removed his shirt and there were droplets of water trickling down his neck and the smooth, hard planes of his chest. Horatio rubbed at his face and neck with a threadbare towel, his skin golden and inviting. He impatiently pushed aside the locks of hair that fell across his forehead that had taken on a coppery sheen from the candle in the nearby table.

"Your turn to wash up," Horatio said with a nod of his head towards the basin.

"Yes, yes, of course," Archie replied, distracted. Horatio extended a hand and Archie took it, allowing the other man to tug him to his feet. He removed his jacket and waistcoat with relative ease, but his stock inexplicably defied his efforts.

"Damn," he muttered, as his fingers, clumsy from exhaustion and perhaps the lingering effects of the ale, slipped yet again.

"What is it, Archie?"

"I seem unable to untie my bloody stock," he growled.

"Here, let me help you," Horatio offered as he came to stand in front of Archie and began to tug at the dark cotton cravat.

"A fine sailor I am," Archie muttered. "Thwarted by a mere knot."

Horatio chuckled. "Actually, Archie that could be an argument in favour of you being an exceptionally fine sailor, if your knot tying skills are indeed that formidable."

Archie could not help but laugh. "I believe my failure is due more to the fact that I am tired, Mr. Hornblower, rather than to an exceptional gift for knot tying, but I believe I like your explanation better, so I shall keep it."

Horatio worked diligently at the knot, his nimble fingers sliding beneath the fabric, a frown creasing his forehead beneath his curls. Archie was acutely aware of his proximity and the warm puffs of breath against his jaw and his neck. His heart suddenly pounded in his chest and he held himself to stillness, more shocked than embarrassed by the unexpected response to the other man's closeness.

"There you are, Mr. Kennedy," he said as he slid the fabric loose and unwound it carefully from Archie's neck. "Liberated at last."

Horatio pressed the cloth into Archie's hand. Archie gazed down at the strip of black fabric to allow himself a moment to compose his countenance.

"Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Hornblower," he said when he looked up at last.

Horatio nodded his head, his lips tilted upwards in a half smile. "You are most welcome Archie."

Archie turned away quickly and set himself to his own ablutions. He wrestled his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly on top of Horatio's own neat stack of garments. He splashed water against his face and neck; its coolness helped to revive him and to restore some of his fractured control. He could hear Horatio moving about the room; the sound of the bolt being thrown across the door, the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet, the thud of his boots being tossed into the corner.

He scrubbed at his skin, drying it with perhaps more vigor than necessary. The towel was soft against his skin, the chill of the water giving way to the warmth from the hearth. He blew out the candle on the washstand and shuffled over to the bed. Horatio was seated on the far side with his back towards Archie, the blankets pulled away to the foot of the bed in preparation for sleep.

Horatio's shoulders were hunched and Archie could see the knots of his spine highlighted by the soft light from the fire that turned his skin to the colour of honey. For a terrible moment the compulsion to touch, to feel warm, smooth skin beneath his fingers, was almost overwhelming. He ruthlessly pushed the temptation aside.

Archie sat on his own side of the bed, feeling the ticking give beneath his weight. He pulled off his boots and let them drop to the floor to be joined there by his stockings moments later.

"Archie?"

Horatio's voice was soft, as gentle as a caress and Archie instinctively responded to that sound as he would to the touch of fingers against his skin. Horatio had turned to face him, his legs drawn up across the bed. His features were half-shaded by the light of the candle and his usually expressive eyes were dark and unreadable. There was something there, something stirring just beneath the smooth surface, like a school of fish cleaving through deep water, but Archie could not even begin to fathom what it was. His throat was suddenly dry and he swallowed, discomfited by that probing gaze.

"Yes, Horatio?"

Horatio drew a breath, his whole body shuddering at its intake. "There is something that I have been thinking upon. Something that I want to ask you, but I am unsure as to how to begin. I...I would not wish to offend you."

Archie blinked, startled by the strange remark. "Horatio, you are my friend, the closest and dearest friend that I have ever had. Surely you must know that there is nothing that you could say or do that would offend me?"

Horatio's expression remained grave. "You say that now, Archie, but I wonder if you truly understand my meaning."

"Well, I suppose the only way to find out would be to say your piece and let me judge for myself."

Horatio studied for a long moment. "Very well. Earlier this evening you said something and I wished to know if it was true."

Archie frowned. "I said a great many things this evening, Horatio. I am afraid you need to be more precise."

"You were speaking about your great uncle Hugh, the one who died fighting for the Jacobite cause."

Archie nodded. He remembered.

"You said that if ever it came to a choice between following the dictates of duty and those of your own conscience, that you would choose the latter."

"Yes," Archie said slowly. "I did."

"Do you really believe that Archie?"

Archie frowned again, not understanding why Horatio was asking him this, nor why his gaze was suddenly so penetrating that it seemed to sear him right to the very core. "Yes, Horatio, I do."

"Does that hold true in all matters, Archie? Even those pertaining to the heart?"

"Horatio, what precisely are you asking me?" he said, suddenly wary.

Horatio moved closer. The bed while fairly large, was not extravagantly so, and they were very near now, their knees almost touching. "I am asking you if you would follow the dictates of your own heart, even if they contradicted those of duty."

Horatio's eyes were bright and fierce and Archie suddenly felt ensnared, like a serpent mesmerized by the music of a dusky skinned snake charmer. He felt as if he could not move, could not breathe unless Horatio gave his leave to do so. It was a terrifying thought. Terrifying and darkly compelling. His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, and when he opened his mouth to speak, his throat had gone dry once more. He swallowed quickly against the dryness then spoke at last.

"Yes," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. "Yes, Horatio. I would follow my heart, duty be damned."

Horatio's face was very close to his own now and Archie could feel the warmth of his skin and the moist breath gusting against his cheek. With infinitesimal care, Horatio reached up and grazed a fingertip against Archie's cheekbone, brushing aside an errant strand of hair that had fallen loose from his queue. The touch was unbearably gentle, but it could not compare with the aching tenderness that Archie saw reflected in Horatio's eyes. He swallowed reflexively and then he felt the other man's hands sliding along the sides of his neck to cradle his face between them. Horatio leaned forward, and gently, reverently, placed his lips against Archie's own.

It was a simple kiss, almost chaste. It was the kind of kiss two brothers might share after a long separation. Or the kind of kiss two lovers might share if uncertain of the nature of one another's affections. As that thought filtered through his mind, Archie felt the pressure of Horatio's mouth increase. The touch remained light and Horatio's lips were soft and surprisingly sweet against his own and he found himself leaning forward into the kiss, responding without thought or care.

The kiss lengthened and deepened. Archie's hands reached up and his fingers slid into the mass of dark curls, pulling him closer. Horatio moaned, a soft breathless sound against his mouth and Archie found that he was giddy and breathless as well.

When they broke apart, they were both gasping for air. Horatio's eyes bored into his, watching, waiting for Archie's reaction. His hands fell to his side.

"Horatio?" he asked bemused, his voice thick and rough with unexpected emotion.

"I decided to take your advice, Archie."

"My advice?"

He nodded, his expression serious. "I decided to follow my own conscience and the dictates of my own heart."
 
When Archie did not respond, Horatio dipped his head in apology. "I warned you that I might offend you, Archie. I apologize"

He shook his head. "I'm not offended, Horatio. I'm...I'm merely surprised is all. I never...I never imagined this."

"And now?"

Archie gazed down at the bed, at the scant inches that lay between them. Horatio's hand rested there on the bedding. Carefully, Archie laid his own upon it, turning it over until their hands faced one another's palm to palm. He laced his fingers through Horatio's and clasped them together.

Archie looked at Horatio's hand, large and rough like his own. He turned it over. The nails were blunt and slightly ragged and the skin was chapped from sun and brine and callused from the hard labor of shipboard life. It was familiar, as familiar as his own flesh and bone. Archie knew its touch, had felt its strength a hundred times across the years, as it steadied him as the ship bucked and lurched through a storm or as Horatio helped him to trim a sail. He remembered its tenderness as Horatio had smoothed his brow after one of his fits or had bathed his face when he lay ill and near to dying in El Ferrol. He remembered its sureness as Horatio had patiently corrected Archie's navigation in preparation for his examinations or when he had climbed the rigging at Archie's side. So much that he'd always known and understood and of which they had never spoken.

"Archie?"

Archie tore his gaze from the study of Horatio's hand. Horatio's expression was frozen but his eyes were alive with a multitude of emotions: need, worry, fear. It was the fear that shocked Archie most of all; fear of Archie's anger, of his repudiation, of his loss. Archie's heart lurched. Horatio was never afraid. He was like a lion in battle, a solid bulwark in the midst of a tempest while the ship shuddered beneath his feet, but he was afraid if this, of losing Archie. It was an extraordinary thought and it took Archie unawares.

In this, at least, Horatio had not cause to fear. Placing his other hand against Horatio's cheek, he leaned in and kissed him deeply.

Horatio responded with the fervor of a starving man set before a banquet and he returned Archie's kiss with a hunger to match his own. Archie felt Horatio's hands at his neck as he tugged the ribbon from Archie's pigtail, his hair spilling loose across his shoulders and Horatio's hands. Horatio pulled him closer and Archie came willingly.

Archie feasted on Horatio's lips and when his tongue flicked out to touch his mouth, Horatio granted him entrance without hesitation. Archie had always wondered how worldly Horatio was in matters of romance and had suspected that his friend was relatively inexperienced. Horatio confirmed much when he all but jumped at the touch of Archie's tongue upon his own. To his credit, however, he did not withdraw, but rather placed himself fully at Archie's mercy, allowing him to lead and to teach.

Horatio proved to be an apt pupil in this as in all his lessons. His mouth was so very sweet, his tongue as nimble as his clever mind. They drank deeply of one another, intoxicated. Kissing Horatio was like sipping the finest brandy, like feeling the sensation of liquid silk on his tongue and the fire that heated the blood and confounded the mind. It was wonderful, but he wanted more.

Archie broke the kiss, eliciting a mumble of protest from the other man. He dotted kisses across Horatio's face, across his jaw, down his neck. He ran his tongue along the skin now slick with sweat and tasted salt. That too was familiar, like the taste of brine carried on sea breezes. Archie moved to a patch of skin just beneath Horatio's ear and nipped gently. He was rewarded with a startled gasp. He buried his face in the other man's neck and chuckled, delighted to have caught the normally controlled Horatio by surprise.

Horatio, however, had a surprise of his own as he tumbled Archie down to the bed and pinned him in place.

"Horatio!" he laughed, astonished at his friend's bold maneuver.

Horatio leaned down until his face was scant inches from Archie's, his eyes bright with hunger and laughter. Archie could see the sheen of sweat that slicked his skin, making it glow in the light from the bedside candle. Horatio nuzzled against the side of Archie's neck and whispered his name against the sweat damp skin.

Archie sighed contentedly and wrapped his arms around Horatio's back. Greedy to touch, he let his hands roam across skin that was slippery and smooth beneath his fingertips. In return, Horatio set about his own exploration, as inquisitive fingers trailed down Archie's sides and across his chest. Tentative at first, his touches gained in confidence and ease with each moan and gasp of pleasure he wrested from Archie's lips.

Archie's body writhed on the bed cushion, alive with need. Horatio was doing wonderful things to his body, things he would never have anticipated from his normally reserved friend. The unexpectedness of it simply heightened the enjoyment. His breeches were now painfully tight and he wanted to be free of them. More than that, he wanted to be able to feel Horatio naked against him, unencumbered by any further barrier. He reached up and began to tug at the buttons of Horatio's breeches. Ever perceptive, Horatio shifted his own attention to focus upon the rapid removal of Archie's own trousers.

It proved to be a far more complicated endeavour than he had imagined. Their hands clumsy with lust and nervous energy, the process took far longer than anticipated. After much tugging and pulling and laughter mingled with muttered curses, both pair of breeches were finally removed and tossed to the floor.

They rolled about the bed in a tangle of limbs, their sweat slicked bodies rubbing together. There was no finesse, no grace to their movements, only a ferocious urgency that set their blood afire and obliterated thought, driving them forward with mindless need.

They ended up with their positions reversed, with Archie straddling Horatio's supine body. Archie's cock was as hard as steel and it ached with the need to spend. Archie rocked against Horatio and felt him rise up to meet him, his own hard length clashing and rubbing against Archie's belly.

Archie gazed down at Horatio. His mouth was open and gasping, face flushed and damp with sweat, errant curls clinging chaotically to his forehead, while his eyes flashed like a saber in the heat of battle. He was breathtaking. Horatio wrapped an arm about Archie's neck and pulled him down into a searing, dazzling kiss that swamped all of his senses and laid him bare. Heat raced across his nerves like Saint Elmo's Fire through the rigging of a storm tossed ship and Archie knew that he could hold on no longer. He buried his face in Horatio's neck and gasping his pleasure as he spent at last.

Horatio's body writhed beneath his, seeking like satisfaction. His hips rose sharply a few more times, than his entire body stiffened. With a low groan, he came as well.

They collapsed to the bed cushion in a sweaty heap. Archie rolled to the side, not wishing to trap his friend underneath. Although Horatio was the taller, Archie had the greater bulk and he knew his weight would quickly become uncomfortable. He tossed his arm carelessly across his eyes as he gasped like a fish tossed ashore and his heart pounded madly.

They lay together side by side, their arms and legs pressed together as the sweat cooled and dried upon their skin. He felt the bed cushion shift and dip beneath him and the sudden chill as Horatio's body moved away. Archie removed his arm and looked over at Horatio who had propped himself upon his elbow. He gazed down at Archie with that wonderful expression of rapt fascination and Archie was suffused with warmth at the very sight. His smile was returned without hesitation.

Horatio laid his hand upon Archie's chest, his fingers splayed across his heart. Archie let it rest there for a time then carefully lifted it to his mouth to press a soft, reverent kiss against the pad of each finger. Horatio opened his mouth to speak, but Archie shook his head, and the effort died, stillborn. He reached up to let his finger tangle in Horatio's hair, silken against his callused skin. He tugged gently to pull Horatio down into another kiss, this one long and deep. Horatio's arms stole about him and pulled him close, their strength and surety both familiar and welcome. His eyes fluttered close in contentment.

With apparent reluctance Horatio broke the kiss, though he did not move away.

"Archie."

Archie felt more than heard his name whispered against his skin. Horatio placed light kisses at the sides of his mouth, on his chin, across his forehead. He placed a kiss on Archie's closed lids, making them flutter at the delicate touch. And all the while Horatio said his name like a litany that gained in force and fervor with each repetition.

There was no sound within the little room apart from the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the soft whisper of Horatio's voice as it lulled him into a deep and peaceful sleep.

When Archie awake again, it was to darkness. The bedside candle had been extinguished and the fire in the hearth nearly burned itself out to smoldering embers that glowed a dim, angry red in the shadowed alcove. Archie was not cold, however. He had rolled over on his side while he slept and Horatio was pressed up against his back, his arm around Archie's chest and one long leg tossed across his own, blanketing him in the warmth and comfort of his own body.

Archie took Horatio's slack hand in his own. He traced the long, slender fingers with his own and drew the pattern of veins that he could only see in his mind's eye. He turned as carefully as he could, unwilling to disturb his companion's slumber. He regretted the darkness; he wished to see Horatio peaceful in slumber and satiation. Still, he could close his eyes and see him as he had appeared in the moments before he came, his body limned in firelight, his dark eyes throwing back the night. He could remember how he had looked down at Archie in the aftermath, with infinite tenderness and his touch like a benediction made flesh as he offered Archie everything he had ever wanted and had never even known he lacked.

Archie sighed softly at his own blindness. He had never seen this coming when in hindsight it should have been so obvious as a three master looming on the horizon on a cloudless day. He had always teased Horatio that he was oblivious to the attentions of others, but this time it was Archie himself who had been broad sided, by Horatio's interest as well as his own. He had not been aware of the turn his affections had taken. He had held Horatio in high esteem for so long, had admired him so frankly and sincerely, it had simply never even occurred to him that his consideration had grown into something else entirely. Looking back, however, it seemed impossible that he could not have known.

'You are a fool, Archie Kennedy,' he thought to himself with well-earned contempt.

"Archie?"

He turned at the sound of Horatio's voice, squinting against the gloom. Horatio's face was blurred with shadow but Archie could see the curve of his cheek and the almost too sharp line of his nose. Archie reached up and ran a finger from brow to tip, then followed the path down to Horatio's lips and he could feel Horatio smile against his skin, before he kissed the digit playfully.

"Horatio..." he began, then stumbled to a halt.

"Yes, Archie?"

"What are we going to do?"

Archie's eyes had grown accustomed enough to the darkness that he could see the frown that shadowed Horatio's face. "What do you want to do, Archie?"

That was the question, of course. What they had done was a sin, in the eyes of man and God alike. More than that, it was expressly forbidden by the Articles of War. Just being here, lying naked in one another's arms, their seed dried and flaking on their bellies was enough to send them to the gallows. Surely, it was madness to carry forward in the face of certain death and disgrace.

And then a fragment from their earlier conversation rose up in his mind.

'I am asking you if you would follow the dictates of your own heart, even if they contradicted those of duty.'

'Yes, Horatio. I would follow my heart, duty be damned.'

He had answered without hesitation, without a single doubt clouding his thoughts. It was an easy thing to do when discussing hypotheticals, but now the question was no longer an abstract notion. It was real and carried with it grave consequences. Would he choose his heart over duty when the stakes were so terribly high?

Archie knew duty. He had been in His Majesty's Service since he was fifteen and in that time he had seen war and had gained an intimate knowledge of death. Duty was the shining sword of the service. It dazzled in the sunlight, sharp and bright, but there were other, darker aspects that dwelled on the shadowed side of the blade. Duty had not protected him from the abuses visited upon him by Jack Simpson, nor had it spared him the privations and hardships he had endured throughout the long months as a prisoner of war. Duty provided cold comfort when a man was trapped in a hole in the ground beneath a pitiless noonday sun, or when unwanted hands brutalized the body and shattered the soul.

It was not duty that had saved him from such ill-treatment, but Horatio. It was Horatio who had pulled him back from the edge of despair at El Ferrol and who had banished the black spectre of Jack Simpson that had stalked Archie's dreams, denying him respite. It was Horatio who had ransomed his soul and given it back to him and had restored the once tattered remnants of his dignity and his self-respect. And it was Horatio who had dared to take that first, perilous step and had laid his heart bare at Archie's feet.
 
'I decided to follow my own conscience and the dictates of my own heart.'

He had always admired Horatio his courage, but never more than he did at that moment. Suddenly, his decision was not a difficult one to make.

He looked up at that beloved face that he knew so well, anxiety writ so clearly across its features as he awaited Archie's answer.

"Archie?"

"This," he said, as he reached upwards and pulled Horatio towards him. "I choose this." The words floated on the air between them until Archie kissed him deeply.

No more words were needed. Sometimes the most eloquent conversations were those carried out in silence.

Finis

"The happiest conversation is that of which nothing is distinctly remembered but a general effect of pleasing impression"-Samuel Johnson

Notes: My very first Hornblower fic. Many thanks to Anais for the beta, encouragement and, of course, for sucking me into the fandom in the first place, and to Janis Cortese and elke tanzer for pimping and encouragement. This story is set sometime between "The Wrong War" and "Mutiny"