Summary: A chance encounter proves most felicitous.
Category: Romance, drama
Pairing: Horatio/Archie/Edrington. Yes, you read that right.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: "The Wrong War".
Notes
Disclaimer

The histories of the lives and fortunes of men are full of instances of this nature,-where favorable times and lucky accidents have done for them, what wisdom or skill could not.
-- Laurence Sterne, Sermons, sermon 8 "Time and Chance" (1760)

Portsmouth, January 1799

Horatio had often heard it said that 'all the world passes through Portsmouth' but he had never given the observation much credence, considering it yet another of the wild exaggerations so loved by seamen. He had never paused to consider that there might be some genuine basis to it, at least not until one cold January day when improbable circumstances gave him cause to reconsider the veracity of the claim.

He and Archie had been making their way along one of the narrow streets near the docks, walking more briskly than was their wont while on leave. The sky had taken on a dark, leaden hue and the air was bitter cold with a crispness to it that portended snow. After a morning spent wandering about the streets of Portsmouth, both men were chilled to the bone and were more than ready to return to their lodgings and the promise of a cheery fire and a tankard to warm them. Turning a corner, they nearly stumbled into another man coming from the opposite direction. Fortunately quick reflexes and the native agility of youth were in their favor and both he and Archie managed to arrest their forward motion before they crashed into the other man.

"I beg your pardon, sir," Horatio said. "We did not see you."

"I would say that is more than a little obvious," came the snappish reply. Horatio frowned at the harshness of the tone and the coolly patrician voice that sounded oddly familiar to his ear.

Horatio prepared to offer further apologies when he finally registered the identity of the other man. "My Lord!" Horatio said, unable to hide his surprise. Archie's own greeting was equally bemused.

Wrapped in a greatcoat, Major Lord Edrington gazed steadily back at them, his expression of annoyance giving way to only the faintest flicker of surprise before it was replaced by a mask of studied blandness. "Lieutenant Hornblower, Mr. Kennedy, this is a most unexpected surprise."

"I believe we would say the same of you, My Lord. What brings you to Portsmouth?"

"Duty, Mr. Hornblower. Duty," he replied with a sigh of resignation. "My regiment is awaiting orders regarding our next assignment. There are rumors, of course, but nothing of substance, so we are forced to remain here for the time being. It is most tedious and very bad for morale as well as discipline, as you might imagine."

Horatio nodded, understanding all too well. While leave was always a welcome reprieve, too much free time could be a dangerous thing, especially among some of the more high-spirited ratings. Rarely did a leave go by without at least a few of the men ending up in the local jail on charges of drunkenness, public brawling or general disorderly conduct. And the longer the leave, the more men would end up there. Of course, Horatio also recognized what His Lordship had not said; he missed the action of battle and the extended inactivity was wearing upon him most keenly. Horatio understood that sentiment as well.

"I had not heard that the Indefatigable was in port," Edrington mused. "I take it you gentlemen are on leave?"

"Yes. We've been granted a few days leave while the Indefatigable is undergoing repairs."

"Nothing too serious, I hope?"

Horatio shook his head. "Fortunately not, but even minor damage is most disheartening. The Indefatigable is a fine lady and it is sad to see her laid low."

Edrington nodded. "I can well imagine your captain is most unhappy about the current state of his beloved ship."

"Indeed, sir."

The earl was gazing at them speculatively. "I am on my way to a meeting with General Halpern in the no doubt vain hope that our orders might be ready at last. If you gentlemen are not previously engaged, it would be my pleasure to invite you to sup with me this evening. To catch up on old times as it were."

Horatio looked at Archie again who gave the barest of shrugs. "It would be our pleasure, My Lord."

"Excellent," Edrington said with a crisp nod. "I have taken rooms at a house on Yarmouth Street. Do you know where that is?"

Horatio did not, but Archie did. He gave the earl a queer little look that Horatio did not entirely understand.

"These are not my habitual accommodations," Edrington explained. "But they do afford me a certain...liberty. Social niceties must be observed, but there are ways of discreetly avoiding them on occasion if one is prudent and takes appropriate measures."

Horatio nodded slowly although he didn't entirely understand. He would have to ask Archie to explain later.

"Very good. Come around at eight o'clock. I'll see about having supper served in my rooms. Then we can converse at leisure and regale one another with thoroughly embroidered tales of our heroic exploits," he added his voice thick with irony.

"We look forward to it, My Lord."

"As do I. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I shall leave you. It is never a good idea to keep one's commanding officer waiting."

"I shall keep that advice in mind, My Lord."

"Until this evening, then."

"My Lord," Horatio said, inclining his head in farewell. He watched as Edrington turned back along his path and disappeared from view around the corner.

"Well, that was unexpected," Archie observed thoughtfully once the other man was gone.

"What was that about, Archie? The accommodations, I mean?"

 "Oh, that. He's taken two sets of rooms. It's a quite common practice, really. He has one set of rooms-his official lodgings--where he can entertain persons of rank and standing while he's privately let another set of rooms in a more modest part of town where he can slip away quietly from time to time to entertain a...less reputable segment of society," Archie added with a wry smile.

"Less reputable?"  Horatio asked with a faint quirk of his lips.

"Well, as a pair of untitled junior officers in His Majesty's Navy you must admit that we hardly qualify as the upper crust, Horatio."

"True enough."

"I wonder if that's where he holds his illicit assignations. Perhaps he's keeping a mistress in town," Archie wondered aloud. "Or two."

"Archie!" Horatio replied, scandalized that Archie would actually give voice to such an idea. Then again, knowing Archie, perhaps he should not have been surprised in the least.

Archie gave him a look of what could only be described as fond exasperation. "Come now, Horatio, you're not that innocent. Surely you do not believe that His Lordship has been here all this time without availing himself of ...companionship."

"Well, it would explain his rather unpleasant mood," Horatio replied, startled by his own candor.

Archie's features lit with a slow smile. "Why Mr. Hornblower, what a wicked thing for you to say. I'm quite impressed."

Horatio cuffed him lightly on the shoulder then shivered as a sudden gust of wind buffeted them. "I think we should follow His Lordship's example and be on our way," Archie suggested. "I feel as though I'm frozen half solid."

"Lead on then, Mr. Kennedy."

"Aye, aye, sir."

And turning on their heels they made their way to the warmth of the inn just as the first snowflakes began to fall.

"Archie, I thought you said you knew where this house was located?" Horatio called out to his companion.

"I do," came the muffled reply. "It's just bloody hard to see anything in all of this."

Archie was referring to the snowstorm that was currently howling its way through the streets of Portsmouth and bedeviling their every step. What had begun as a gentle snowfall had worsened after nightfall and already the ground was covered with a heavy blanket of white.

Horatio huddled into the folds of his cloak, trying to shield his face from the biting wind as best he could as he trudged alongside Archie down another darkened street. He felt frozen to the core even though he knew they had been abroad for a short period of time. Disoriented by the dark and the sleeting snow, Horatio's sense of direction had failed him completely. He could steer a ship across a vast ocean with nothing but the stars to guide him, but it would seem that he had was less adept on land. He just hoped Archie had not completely lost his bearings.

"There!" Archie called out to him. "There it is just ahead!"

Horatio lifted his head and squinted. He could just make out a hint of warm golden light in the distance, beckoning to them. Bolstered by the sight, Horatio quickened his steps, noticing that Archie did the same. A few minutes later they were inside and breathing heavily as if they had run a gauntlet instead of walking a short distance through the familiar streets of Portsmouth.

Horatio removed his hat and shook the snow from his shoulders aware of Archie doing the same at his side. Once most of the snow was removed he gazed about the common room. It was very plain, far more modest than Horatio would have expected given the earl's standing, but then he remembered that they were are his private lodgings. Still, the room was clean and neat, the walls whitewashed to an almost pristine hue. Clearly someone took pains to keep the abode trim and ship shape.

He looked over at Archie who smiled and sniffed the air appreciatively, inviting Horatio to do the same. The air was heavy with the aroma of roasted game and freshly baked bread and other subtler scents like cinnamon and cloves. If those smells were a fair indication, it looked as though they were going to be amply rewarded for their efforts.

A portly man hurried towards them, wiping his hands on his apron as he did.  The proprietor, Horatio assumed.

"Gentl'men."

"We're here to see Major Lord Edrington. I believe he is expecting us."

The proprietor smiled brightly at announcement of that name. The earl, it would appear, was a favoured customer. "Yes, of course. If you gentl'men'll follow me?"

The proprietor led them to the back of the common room and up the stairs. The hallway was neat as a pin and well lit by lanterns along both walls. "'E's in the room all the way at the end o' the hall on yer right."

"Thank you."

Horatio rapped on the door the man had indicated. At the invitation to enter, he opened the door and ushered Archie inside before following and closing the door behind them. He took a moment to let his gaze wander around the room, noting the size of the chamber and the quality of the furnishings. It was quite sumptuous and, much finer than the rest of the abode. But perhaps the earl was not the only man of title to make use of these rooms.

Edrington was standing near the fire. Dressed only in trousers, shirt and stock, he appeared far more at his ease than he had earlier in the day. He greeted his guests with a faint nod. "Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Kennedy. I am pleased to see you both. I was afraid that perhaps you were swallowed up by the blizzard. Beastly weather."

"Thankfully not," Horatio said as he moved farther into the room. "Though it does make it something of a challenge to navigate one's course."

"Indeed," he replied. "But I am forgetting my manners. Come, get yourselves out of those wet things and sit yourselves down by the fire. I asked the proprietor to bring something to warm you up and I daresay you both look like you could use it."

Horatio and Archie complied without hesitation. It was a relief to shrug out of the cloaks, heavy and damp with melting snow. At the earl's urging they also removed their wool jackets to allow them to dry on the hearth as well. They had just settled into two of the chairs placed near the fire when there was a knock on the door.

"That will be the proprietor," he said before calling out. "Come!"

As predicted, the proprietor entered the room bearing a tray laden with a steaming pot and three cups. He deposited the tray on the small table near the fire, bowed awkwardly then scurried away, closing the door behind him.

Edrington handed them each a cup that they took with murmured thanks. Horatio wrapped his chilled hands around the cup and took a careful sip. He smiled at the taste of chocolate against his tongue, savoring the warmth of the beverage.

Archie gave a contented sigh. "This is wonderful, My Lord. Thank you."
 
"It is my pleasure." He paused for a moment then gazed down at the two younger officers. "I find I must apologize for my earlier churlish behavior, gentlemen. I was quite rude when we first met. I should not have let my frustrations spoil our unexpected reunion. There have been few enough moments of good fortune of late."

"Does this mean that your meeting did not go well this afternoon, My Lord?" Horatio essayed.

Edrington sighed as he settled into the remaining chair before the hearth and took a sip from his own cup.

"I am afraid that your deduction is correct, Mr. Hornblower. General Halpern was full of apologies but little else. So the waiting continues."

"I'm sorry," Horatio said. And truly he was. He remembered all too well the long months spent in Justinian awaiting word of action that did not come, the way the days had blended one into the other in a gray blur of boredom and empty routine. Of course, there had been other distractions in Justinian of the most unpleasant sort. He still shied from dwelling upon them even after the passage of so many years.

"Do you have any idea of where they might send you?" Archie asked between sips of chocolate.

"Rumors abound, of course, but it is logical to assume that it will either be the continent to fight the French or Ireland to fight the rebels. Given the surfeit of His Majesty's enemies one would think they would not have such difficulties in finding someone for us to battle," Edrington said, his cultured voice rising in pique once more.

"I am sure they simply wish to make the best use of such an able fighting force," Horatio suggested tentatively

Edrington smiled thinly behind the rim of his cup. "Spoken like an skilled diplomat, Mr. Hornblower. Perhaps you should consider a career in politics some day."

Horatio flushed. "I apologize, My Lord, I did not mean..."

The earl cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I am the one who should be apologizing, sir. That was a most unworthy remark on my part. You must excuse my temper, gentlemen. I have spent far too long waiting to return to duty and I find myself growing impatient.

"As for you observation, Mr. Hornblower, I can only hope that the delay is due to careful planning, but given some of the...questionable decisions made in the past, I find that I am less than sanguine about that possibility. All of us know too well that the best of intentions can lead to tragic results."

He did not speak the word aloud, nor did he have to. It hung in the air between them, casting a pall over the room that even the fire burning cheerfully in the hearth could not entirely dispel.

Muzillac.

The three men sat there, each lost in his own private thoughts, thoughts that were mirrored by his companions. It was curious; after all, it was Muzillac that had first brought them together. It was the desperate and ultimately futile attempt to hold the bridge and regain the village there that had given each man the measure of the others and had won them mutual respect. Nevertheless, even now, more than a year after those events, they were loathe to speak of them, the memories too sharp to be exposed even between themselves.

The silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the wind rattling the windowpanes until Edrington spoke once more.

"Mr. Kennedy, I could not help but notice that your change in uniform. Would I be incorrect to infer that you have been promoted?"

Archie blinked, clearly taken by surprise by the remark and the sudden shift in conversation. "Yes, My Lord...I mean no, My Lord, you would not be incorrect. I received my commission four months ago," he explained, still flustered.

Edrington gave him a gracious smile. "My felicitations, Lieutenant Kennedy. It would seem we have something else to celebrate then."

The earl's irritation had abated, at least for the moment, and the earlier tension gave way with it. Sensing, but not understanding, the strange undercurrent, Horatio cast a quick glance over at Archie and noticed that he was watching the earl with thoughtful eyes, his brow furrowed with a frown. Archie caught his glance and just shrugged. They returned their attention to their chocolate and drank in companionable silence until there was once again a knock at the door.

Upon receiving word, the proprietor entered, along with two servants, each of them bearing a large tray laden with foodstuffs. They unloaded their trays and arranged their contents on the table near the fire with an efficiency that told of long experience. The aromas wafting upwards were intoxicating and Horatio felt his stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Will there be anythin' else, Yer Lordship?"

"No, I believe that will be all for now."

"Very good, Me Lord," The man said with a bow before ushering the servants out and closing the door behind them.

"Well, gentlemen, I suppose we should set ourselves to this fine repast that the proprietor has delivered up."

"An excellent plan, My Lord," Archie said.

"I have always prided myself on my thoughtful strategy," Edrington replied. Although his tone was quite serious, there was the faintest twinkle in his eye, signaling a further change in humor.

They sat themselves down at the table and Horatio gazed at the banquet spread out before them in frank admiration. When Edrington had invited them to sup, Horatio had anticipated a light evening meal, not this sumptuous feast. There was broiled salmon, its flesh cooked to a rosy pink, a brace of pigeons, the skin brown and crackling, a large bowl holding what appeared to be mashed potatoes and turnips and another with carrots and greens as well as stewed pears for dessert. And of course, a loaf of bread, warm and fresh from the oven and a pot of butter to accompany it. There were also several bottles of varying vintages. Clearly when the Earl of Edrington supped he did so with the same sense of purpose and vigor as he did battle.

"This is..." Horatio began, finding himself at a loss for words.

"Simple fare, I know, but I have found the quality to be excellent. It pleases me greatly that I can share my table with two fellow officers with whom I have shared adversity."

Horatio looked over at Archie who looked as startled by the kind words as he felt. "Thank you, My Lord. I can assure you that the consideration is mutual."

"It pleases me to hear you say so, Mr. Hornblower. It pleases me greatly, indeed." He reached over and uncorked one of the bottles of wine pouring each man a measure. "Although it is customary to hold the toasts until the end of the repast, I feel it is not too great a breach in protocol to begin out meal with one."

Edrington raised his glass, the pale liquid shimmering in the firelight. "To unexpected encounters and the renewal of old friendships."

All three men drank deeply. "This is a very fine vintage, My Lord," Archie remarked, delighted.

"One of the few advantages I've found in Portsmouth. They do seem to have an excellent and varied supply of wines. That wine, for example," he said, pointing to the bottle from which he had just poured, "was supposedly seized from a French cutter off the coast of Normandy. The ship was declared a prize of war and its cargo impounded in the name of His Majesty. I am sure he would be most pleased that three of his loyal subjects are currently enjoying it."

"Well, we might be at war with the French, but I for one have no quarrel with their grapes. This is a most excellent wine," Archie said and underscored his verdict by taking another long draught.

"I suppose we should partake of the food while it is still warm. Make sure you try the pigeons, gentlemen," Edrington told his companions, "they are most delicious."

Both men followed his directions, and were not disappointed in the slightest. The skin was as crisp and savory as it appeared and the flesh beneath most succulent. They ate in silence for a time, just enough to take the edge off their hunger before turning to conversation once more.

"You have not yet told me how the intrepid frigate Indefatigable ended up in Portsmouth under repair," Edrington said at last, helping himself to another pigeon.

"We have been on Channel duty for the past three months," Horatio explained, as he set down his wine glass. He nodded at the earl's unspoken question and allowed his glass to be refilled. He took a sip of wine before continuing.

"Two weeks ago, we encountered the French corvette Pèlerin off the coast of Brest. She tried to make a run for it and we gave chase. We followed her for two days and she almost gave us the slip more than once."

"She was damned quick," Archie chimed in, "and she maneuvered sweetly for her size."

Horatio nodded then picked up the tale again. "We caught up with her at last but she would not strike her colors even though we outgunned her. There was a battle and we eventually carried the day, but not before she managed to get in one clear hit. Took out the top of the mizzenmast and much of the rigging."

"It was a lucky shot," Archie said, leaping staunchly to the Indefatigable's defense, "and nothing compared to what the Pèlerin looked like after the battle. She took a sound beating, that is for sure."

"We patched up the mizzenmast as best we could and made our way back to Portsmouth with all due haste with the Pèlerin in tow. Under other circumstances, Captain Pellew might have chosen to remain on blockade, but he was concerned that we might run afoul of the winter storms in the Channel."

"A sound decision, it would seem," Edrington noted.

Horatio nodded. "Indeed. We only reached port two days ago. It would not have been wise to weather a storm such as this one with a damaged mast."

"Still, I feel sorry for the poor man," Edrington said, his expression thoughtful.  "I know how fond he is of that ship of his. He must be quite vexed that she is in for repairs at all."

Archie chuckled. "That is an understatement, sir. The captain was most displeased. The language that issued from his mouth made even the sturdiest ratings blush like schoolgirls."

"Archie," Horatio chastised his shipmate, embarrassed that the captain's behavior was being discussed so freely. Edrington, much to Horatio's surprise, was not bothered in the slightest. A small smile graced his lips, the first genuine smile that Horatio had seen on his visage since their encounter that afternoon.

"Ah yes, that's the Edward I know. For all his manners and discipline he's still a sailor underneath it all. It is good to know that some things do not change."

Horatio and Archie exchanged an inquisitive look, taken by surprise both by the earl's use of their captain's Christian name as well as the shift in his mood. "You know the captain well, My Lord?"

"Oh yes, very well indeed, Mr. Kennedy," Edrington replied. He said no more on the subject, but a secretive smile played about his lips, suggesting much, but revealing nothing.

"More wine, My Lord?"

"Yes, thank you Mr. Kennedy," he replied with a gracious nod of his head. "So, tell me gentlemen, how long do you anticipate being in Portsmouth?"

Horatio shrugged. "I'm afraid that it is difficult to say. Much depends upon the weather. It will be impossible to repair the mast while this blizzard continues and if the storms worsen, we might be unable to leave port at all. We could be trapped here for a month or more."

Edrington nodded. "So our situations are not dissimilar in that regard."

"How long have you been in Portsmouth, My Lord?"

"Nearly three weeks, Mr. Hornblower. And if the weather worsens, as it very well might, then my division will be trapped here along with you since I, for one, have no intention of swimming to our destination."

"So, we're all buggered then."

Horatio choked on his wine at Archie's remark but Edrington smiled once more. "An apt analysis of the situation, Mr. Kennedy. A tad, crude, perhaps, but apt nonetheless."

"Are you all right there, Mr. Hornblower?" Archie asked, his face the picture of solicitude as he slapped Horatio on the back.

"Quite all right, Mr. Kennedy, thank you," he grumbled, shooting a glare at his friend.

"Sorry, 'bout that, Horatio," Archie said though the sly grin that was threatening to break out across his face tended to undermine the sincerity of his apology.

Edrington refilled Horatio's glass. He had lost count of how many times he had already done so. Five? Six? Horatio didn't know for certain, but they were already on their third bottle of wine, a heavy, sweet wine to accompany the stewed pears, and they showed no signs of slowing any time soon.

He was suddenly very grateful for his time in the Navy. He'd long ago learned that a man gains a variety of skills in His Majesty's service, some of which proved to be unexpectedly advantageous, and right now a sailor's head for drink was holding him in good stead. A few short years ago he would have been under the table by now, or at the very least slurring his words and swaying in his seat like rigging in a strong wind. He was as yet still clear headed, but he would have to be careful not to overindulge, unless he wanted to end up face first in a snowdrift on the trek back to their lodgings.

 "It's a damnable time to be out of the game," Edrington said, a scowl crossing his aristocratic features, his mood darkening once more. "Things are beginning to move on the continent and the time to strike has come and here we are, sitting in England when we should be teaching the French a lesson."

"Do you think the coalition will hold?" Archie asked.

"I have no idea. The French have made far more enemies than allies of late and there is considerable ire over their occupation of Switzerland and now this damnable business with the Parthenopean Republic." He shook his head.

"Well, given that the French already held most of Italy, it's perhaps not surprising that Naples fell as well," Horatio essayed.

"No, it is not. Still, Naples is an ally. We will have to do what we can to liberate them. I am afraid, though, that once again the onus will fall to England. We are surrounded by allies and yet we always seem to be the ones doing the bulk of the fighting."

"And the dying," Archie added.

"And the dying," Edrington affirmed. "It's almost a pity that my regiment will in all probability not be sent to Egypt. I would dearly love to engage the French there. It would appear that that upstart Buonaparte has not yet learned his lesson, despite the sound thrashing he received from Nelson at Aboukir."

"That must have been a fine battle," Horatio said wistfully. He looked over at Archie and recognized his own longing reflected in his friend's eyes. Channel duty was necessary, and it had its occasional moments of excitement, but there was nothing quite like the thrill of battle, of engaging an enemy equal to, or even superior to one's own forces head on. "I've read about it in the Naval Gazette, of course, but to have been there..."

"Channel duty is so bloody dull by comparison." Archie words unconsciously echoed Horatio's unspoken thoughts. "But surely it cannot last. Captain Pellew's too fine a captain to waste on blockade duty, especially with his record for capturing prize ships," he added hopefully.

"I'm sure it is just a temporary assignment, no doubt to teach Edward a bit of a lesson."

"My Lord?"  Horatio and Archie both asked simultaneously. They looked at one another and then back to the earl.

"You must know that Admiral Lord Hood was...displeased by the outcome of our deployment to Muzillac..."

There it was, the shade that occupied the room but of which they had not openly acknowledged until now. Horatio looked down at his hands, folded in his lap and breathed slowly until he had mastered himself once more.

When he looked up, he saw that Edrington was lost in thought as well, peering into the depths of his wine glass. Horatio looked over at Archie, who was watching the man thoughtfully.

Edrington raised his head and looked directly at both of them, his gaze suddenly intense as if he were taking their measure. Horatio swallowed, discomfited by that assessing gaze, but he did not look away.

"Lieutenant Hornblower, Lieutenant Kennedy," he began his voice oddly formal, "I find myself...troubled and I feel the need to unburden myself. May I rely upon your discretion as both officers and gentlemen that what I am about to impart will go no further than these four walls?"

Horatio sat up sharply at that rather somber request. Once again, without any clear volition, his eyes sought out his companion. Archie's own posture was ramrod straight and his expression grave and unreadable, all traces of previous lightheartedness gone. Though whimsical on occasion, Archie was a loyal officer and remained punctilious in matters pertaining to duty and honor. He gave Horatio a sharp nod.

"My Lord, I speak for both of us when I say that you have our word of honor. Nothing that you tell us will ever be spoken of again."

Edrington turned his perceptive gaze upon them both again as if looking for a sign of vacillation. Finding none, he nodded his head and spoke in a slow, deliberate voice.

"Recently, I was informed by a reliable source in the Admiralty that a copy of General Charette's attack plans as well as our orders, had, in all likelihood, fallen into enemy hands prior to our departure. The Admiralty was aware of this. Although Pellew expressed his misgivings, it was decided that that the mission was worth the risk and therefore should proceed as planned."

"They knew?" Horatio asked, stunned. Archie looked equally horrified at the revelation.

Edrington nodded.

Archie swore hotly under his breath; apparently he had been taking lessons in invective from the captain. Horatio had a similar urge to utter a few prime phrases he'd learned from the men in his division but opted instead to take a drink of wine instead, draining his glass in one go. Edrington dutifully refilled it along with his own.

"The captain knew," Horatio said as realization slowly crept in, a thread of anger joining the numb horror he already felt.

"Do not blame your captain, Mr. Hornblower," Edrington said, his eyes suddenly fierce.  "He was placed in an untenable position. If he had refused to obey orders, Edward would have been court-martialed and the mission would have gone ahead as planned. Nothing would have changed except the names and faces of the participants. In fact, things would have probably been much worse."

"My Lord?"

"Edward had been ordered to remain at Quiberon Bay to await the anticipated retreat of General Cherette's forces. Recognizing that the main force had been lost, he decided to sail to Muzillac to come to our aid. Had he not done so, we would surely have been captured or killed by the Republican forces, in which case none of us would be sitting here now enjoying this fine repast. It is not every captain who would risk the wrath of the Admiralty for the sake of a handful of men and a regiment of foot soldiers. The mission was doomed from the start, gentlemen and I for one will not condemn him for trying to make the best out of a bad situation that was not of his making and certainly not of his choosing."

"Of course not," Horatio said. "I had no idea..." he looked over at Archie once again. His lips were turned downwards in a frown and his gaze was dark. Horatio suspected it was a fair mirror of his own visage. "We were never informed of any of this."

Edrington laughed but there was no mirth in it. "Of course not. The Admiralty took great care to hide the truth. They would not want such a blunder made public. We are, after all at war, and during war the appearance of strength, of infallibility if you will, is almost as important as strength itself."

"And the captain?" Archie asked.

"Edward is a dutiful officer as well as a shrewd man. He knew no purpose would be served by making the facts of this incident known, not even to those who were there." He looked thoughtfully from Horatio to Archie and back again. "Most especially those who were there."

Edrington took another drink of wine then leaned back in his chair.

"Unfortunately, the entire mission is something of an embarrassment to the Admiralty and its unfortunate outcome was greeted with considerable disapproval among the French émigrés living in England. While I fervently hope we have not reached the point where foreign aristocrats can dictate military policy, there are within the émigré community persons of influence who were quick to make their displeasure known. As Edward was the senior captain and the one who had been ordered to remain at Quiberon, it was considered politically expedient to remove him from view, as it were, to appease them, hence your current duty. I daresay the Naval Gazette rarely reports the movements of ships on the blockade."

Horatio nodded. Compared to the naval battles in Egypt or the prize filled cruises on the Med, or even trips to the more exotic climes of the West Indies, Channel duty was terribly uninteresting to the public at large.

Edrington shook his head sadly. "But, as you say, Edward is a fine captain with one of the more impressive records in the fleet. If this war continues, and it gives every sign that it will, they will have no choice but to put his talents and his ship to far better use, and quite soon, I should think."

"Well, there is that at least." It was a small comfort. The memory of that mission haunted Horatio still; he suspected the same was true of Archie and all the others who were there with him. It had seemed so futile even then and now, knowing the truth of the matter is seemed even more tragic.

And yet, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he'd had his suspicions from the very beginning. Perhaps it was the very notion of allying themselves with an enemy, or perhaps it was the glint of madness in Montcoutant's eyes as he caressed his guillotine with the gentle touch of a lover. It had been folly; worse, it had been a folly motivated by politics. Such endeavors rarely ended well.

He supposed he should be glad to know the truth at last. His estimation for Captain Pellew had risen, something that Horatio had not thought possible, as had his regard for the Earl of Edrington. The earl was under no obligation to break his silence and tell them of what had transpired before the mission began. Indeed, political expedience and common sense both dictated that he should have stayed his tongue. In light of his title and his rank his candor was all the more striking. As Archie himself had pointed out mere hours before, a humble pair of junior officers in His Majesty's Navy with no wealth or title to distinguish them. For Edrington to confide in them so openly was most extraordinary and implied a degree of trust that was almost staggering. Edrington, Horatio reflected, was a truly honorable man and meeting him was perhaps the one happy occurrence associated with that benighted mission.

Edrington cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I believe that we have already dwelt sufficiently on the unhappy past for one evening. What is done, is done, and I for one refuse to be a slave to past events. We should instead look to the future and enjoy the present as much as we may. Circumstances have quite unexpectedly brought us together so we should make the most of our good fortune while we may."

"A man hath no better thing under the sun, than to eat, and to drink, and to be merry?"

"Quite so, Mr. Kennedy, quite so."

"Agreed," Horatio said, feeling himself caught up to the swell of good feeling.

"Well then, let us seal our resolve with a toast." Edrington raised the newly open bottle and began to pour them each a measure of the wine. "Yet another spoil of war, gentlemen. I was informed by the proprietor that this fine Madeira was seized from a Spanish brig near Honfleur. Bad luck for them, but most excellent luck for us."

Edrington looked at his companions and smiled. "To the future. May it prove happier and less murky than the past."

"To the future," Horatio and Archie echoed before all three men drank.

"Another fine vintage, My Lord."

Edrington accepted the praise with a gracious smile. "So, who shall offer up the next toast? Mr. Hornblower?"

Horatio thought for a moment, then raised his glass. "To Lord Nelson and his fleet. May he continue to bedevil Buonaparte right out of Egypt."

"Hear, hear."

"Mr. Kennedy?"

Archie reflected a moment then a mischievous grin spread across his handsome features. "To the Channel Fleet. May they continue to thwart our enemies *and* to provide His Majesty's servants with wine of such august quality."

Edrington chuckled and Horatio found himself smiling as well. "Most apt, Mr. Kennedy. To the Channel fleet then."

They drank again, heartily and in good cheer. The toasts continued apace as the three men worked their way through the contents of the bottle: the obligatory salutation of the King, of  Edward Pellew, the finest captain ever to stand on the quarterdeck of a frigate, of Archie's recent commission

"Mr. Kennedy, I believe it is your turn to call the toast, sir," Edrington said as he emptied the bottle and put it aside. Horatio peered at the contents of his glass, blinking rather forcefully. Two more toasts, he thought, with a sense of mingled relief and disappointment. The Madeira had succeeded where the previous wines had not; his body was relaxed and he felt that gentle sense of warmth and distraction that signaled the onset of true drunkenness. It was just as well that they had come to an end since he doubted to could have made his way down the hallway, let alone to their lodgings if he imbibed any more spirits.

Still, the company had been most pleasant. Once the discussion of the events of Muzillac had been put well behind them, the earl's manner had softened considerably and there was a genuine sense of camaraderie despite the differences in their ranks, their social standing and their service. If he did not have other plans, his regret at their imminent departure would have been all the more difficult to bear.

"Mr. Kennedy?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Archie replied with a faintly distracted air. Horatio hid his smile behind his hand. Apparently he was not the only one who was beginning to feel the effects of the evening's indulgences. Archie raised his glass and looked directly at the earl.

"To the 95th Foot. The finest infantry division it has ever been my privilege to encounter."

"To the 95th Foot," Horatio echoed and sipped from his glass.

Edrington followed suit, but raised a cultured eyebrow in Archie's direction. "While I do not disagree with the assessment, I suspect that your familiarity with the infantry is somewhat limited. I fear that my division is the only one of your acquaintance."

"Not so, My Lord. My older brother Robert is in the Army. *Captain* Kennedy," he said, putting an emphasis upon the title that spoke more of mockery than esteem, "is the commander of the 73rd Foot."

Edrington's expression became thoughtful. "I am afraid that I am quite unfamiliar with either Captain Kennedy or the 73rd Foot."

Archie smiled brightly. "I cannot tell you how much it pleases me to hear you say so, My Lord."

"Oh?"

"To hear my brother speak, his is the only division of merit in all of the Service. You'd have thought he'd won the Battle of Valenciennes single-handedly armed with nothing more than a soupspoon and a child's sling the way he recounts the engagement. Of course, knowing him the way I do, I suspect that he took his role of command quite seriously and stayed back far enough so as to be able to supervise more fully, as it were."

Edrington's expression was cordial, but there was an edge to his smile that only a fool would have taken for genuine amusement. "Well, we are most fortunate to have such a meritorious officer in His Majesty's service, are we not?"

"Better your branch than ours, My Lord," Archie replied with his customary cheek.

"You are impudent, sir."

"So I have been told repeatedly," he answered without a hint of embarrassment.

Edrington laughed, a rich, throaty sound that bespoke of genuine pleasure. "Well, gentlemen, we seem to have made short work of the Madeira. A final toast: confusion to Buonaparte and a swift, and decisive victory over the French."

Horatio and Archie voiced their agreement and drained their glasses eagerly. If only that was all it required to bring about an end to the war. Horatio glanced over the clock resting on the mantelpiece and winced at the lateness of the hour. He looked over at Archie and tilted his chin in the direction of the clock. Archie's gaze shifted in the indicated direction and Horatio could see Archie's own expression flicker from surprise to embarrassment to a sudden anticipation that was replaced almost immediately by a look of genuine regret.

Horatio rose carefully to his feet, steadying himself on the table before him as the wine rushed to his head with a suddenness that took him quite unawares. Archie did the same.

"My Lord," he began, hoping he did not appear quite as unsteady as he felt, "we are most grateful for the generosity of your table, but I fear that it is past time that we should take our leave. We would not wish to impose upon you further."

Edrington looked at him in surprise. "You wish to leave? But we have not even had a brandy as yet. Come, come, it is still quite early, Mr. Hornblower."

At that precise moment the clock chimed once as if determined to refute the earl's claim.

Horatio gave him an apologetic smile and prepared to extend his regrets once again

"My God, Horatio! Look!"

Horatio turned at those words. Archie was standing at the window, the heavy drapes pushed aside, as he stared intently out the window. Horatio joined him there and peered through the leaded glass.

White. Horatio could see nothing but white as far as the eye could see. The snowstorm had not died down, but had continued unabated for the past several hours. Horatio bit his lip in annoyance and considered the options, even as he felt Edrington coming to stand behind him.

"Well, that settles it," the earl pronounced in a tone that brooked no argument. "I simply cannot allow you gentlemen to go abroad in such filthy weather."

"My Lord, that is most kind, but we should really be going."

"That would be a rather imprudent course of action, wouldn't you say? You'd no doubt end up buried in a snow bank. Edward would have my head for it and I can assure you that I would prefer that it remain in its current location," he added, interjecting a touch of levity.

"My Lord, we could not impose upon you further."

"Nonsense. It is hardly an imposition when I have extended the invitation, now is it?"

Horatio frowned as he struggled to find some means to depart gracefully. It was not that he was keen to venture out into a blizzard. Quite the contrary; if he had thought the trek from their lodgings had been bad, the return promised to be considerably worse. And the evening had been most pleasant. The earl set a handsome table and his company was most enjoyable. It was just that he had other plans in mind for the remainder of the evening, none of which included the Earl of Edrington.

This was the first night that he and Archie had spent ashore since the Indefatigable had been given Channel duty. For three months, the Indefatigable had been patrolling the waters between England and France. For three months, they had been on constant guard against enemy ships trying to find safe harbor along the coasts of Normandy and Brittany. And for three months, he and Archie had been nothing more than brother officers to one another. During that entire time, they had eschewed even the simplest and fraternal of gestures for fear that a single touch, no matter how innocent, would open the floodgates. They could not take that risk, not while at sea, so instead they held themselves apart, their manner friendly but not intimate in any way that was remotely improper. And after three months of restraint, Horatio felt his self-control stretched beyond endurance.

The chance encounter with the earl had been unexpected but not unpleasantly so. An evening of good food and better company was always desirable. Horatio, however, had been looking forward to a more private celebration to take place once he and Archie returned to their lodgings. Horatio hadn't--couldn't have-foreseen the snowstorm that now held them captive far away from their cozy room at the inn and the tantalizing promise of privacy that it afforded them.

"My Lord, while we do appreciate the offer, we would not wish to intrude on your privacy." Horatio did not pause to consider the irony of that objection.

"Nothing could be farther from the truth. I have had far too much privacy these past weeks. As I have said, your company has provided a welcome respite."

"But, where would we sleep?"

It was an inane objection and Horatio shifted nervously where he stood.

Edrington's gave him a studied look. "I assume that you and Mr. Kennedy have been sharing a bed. For the sake of economies, of course," he added smoothly.

Horatio felt his cheeks flare at the thinly veiled insinuation, feeling suddenly exposed. He prayed that the earl might think he was flushed from drink rather than embarrassment, though he doubted the man was so easily fooled. "Yes, My Lord."

"And may I also assume that the bed in your current lodgings is less grand in scale than this monstrosity?" Edrington asked with a sweep of his hand towards the enormous bed that dominated one side of the room.

"You would be correct in that assumption, My Lord," Horatio replied somewhat awkwardly.

"Well then, surely there is enough room for three, wouldn't you agree? Especially three brother officers who are accustomed to close quarters and less than luxurious sleeping arrangements."

Edrington's expression remained bland, but there was a glint of humor in those brown eyes and the raised eyebrow gave him a rakish, sardonic air. Horatio cast a pleading glance in Archie's direction, hoping that he might have formulated some clever excuse to extricate them from this situation. Archie, however, merely shrugged and gave Horatio a faintly apologetic look.

Horatio felt a sudden flare of annoyance; at the snowstorm for trapping them, at the earl with his overdeveloped sense of hospitality and his far too perceptive eye, even at Archie for his seeming lack of cooperation. The anger vanished almost as quickly as it had surfaced, however. He was being idiotic. The weather was beastly and the earl was kind enough to offer them his hospitality. To refuse would not only be foolish but unconscionably rude and as a rule Horatio tried to avoid being either. Horatio bowed his head graciously in the earl's direction.

"You are quite right, My Lord. Please forgive my stubbornness. We would, of course, be delighted to accept your continued hospitality."

Edrington smiled back at him. "Excellent." He walked over to the door and tugged on the bell pull located there. Within minutes the proprietor was standing in the doorway, his manner deferential.

"Yes, M'Lord?"

"Bring us some cigars and a bottle of brandy, if you will."

"Yes, M'Lord," the proprietor replied with a jerky, awkward bow. "If yer done with the meal, I'll have the lads come up and clear the table."

"Very good," Edrington said, dismissing the man with a glance.

Horatio had drifted back to the window. He stood next to Archie, close but not touching, and watched the snow falling outside. He could see their reflections as well, superimposed over the swirling tableau beyond. His gaze shifted and he caught Archie's eyes reflected in the glass, giving him a small, regretful smile that Archie returned with one of his own. They did not speak, the silence interrupted only by the occasional rattle of the windowpanes from the force of the wind and the sound of their own breathing. For a brief moment, at least, they were alone.

The rapping on the door broke into Horatio's reverie. The proprietor had returned, a pair of servants once again in tow to remove the detritus of their meal. He deposited the bottle of brandy, the snifters and the cigars on the small table near the hearth before he joined the young men in clearing the table.

"Leave the rest of the bread and the butter," the earl instructed. "I find that I sometimes become hungry in the small hours."

This last remark was aimed primarily at Horatio and Archie, but the proprietor followed directions without question. Trays loaded with plates and serving platters, the proprietor and his men beat a hasty retreat, leaving the earl and his guests to their privacy once more.

Edrington ushered Horatio and Archie back towards the hearth. He settled down in the middle chair, the one closest to the brandy while Archie claimed the seat to his right and Horatio the one to his left. He poured them each a measure of brandy that they accepted with thanks.

Horatio held his glass up before the fire for a moment, entranced by the way the reflection of the flames seemed to dance within the amber liquid. He had already had enough to drink, more than was customary or prudent, but he could see no sound reason to refuse. Besides, if this brandy was of the same quality as the other spirits they had consumed this evening then he would no doubt regret the lost opportunity if he abstained.

He took a careful sip. The alcohol burned its way down his throat like liquid fire but it was quickly transmuted into a sweet, comforting warmth that settled in his belly and slowly spread outwards through his limbs. He took another small sip, felt the same flare of fire and the same banking of heat into a pleasant tingling sensation. Yes, a very fine brandy indeed.

Horatio glanced over at his companions. The earl swirled the brandy about his snifter, studying it with grave intensity. Horatio could see Archie seated just beyond him and he could not help but smile. Once the decision had been made to stay, Archie had clearly lost no time at making himself comfortable. He had removed his boots and now sat low in his chair, his legs stretched out comfortably before him, his feet so close to the grate that Horatio thought it a wonder that his stockings had not caught fire. Archie looked completely at his ease here, but then Archie could make himself at home almost anywhere with a minimum of fuss. It was a skill that Horatio himself did not possess and that he envied more than a little. Archie was rarely out of his element for long.

As if he felt Horatio's eyes on him, Archie turned to look at him. Although his smile was demure, his gaze was direct and most definitely provocative. Horatio frowned.

'Damn him,' Horatio thought. It was just typical of Archie to start such a game when he knew full well that they couldn't see it to its conclusion. Granted, they'd both played at it over the course of the evening, casting covetous, hungry eyes upon one another whenever Edrington's attention was directed elsewhere. It was a dangerous thing to do, even in the relative privacy of the earl's rooms, but Horatio knew that that simply added a certain spice to the proceedings that they both found exciting.

Of course, that presupposed that eventually there would be a conclusion to the proceedings and that the promises tendered would be paid in full. Tonight, however, that would not be the case and at that moment Horatio could have cheerfully throttled Archie for upping the stakes when he knew full well that there was nothing Horatio could do about it.

Archie arched a brow, part query, part challenge. Horatio met his gaze for a long moment then turned away quite purposefully. Eyes forward, he took a long swallow of his brandy, welcoming the burn and the distraction it provided.

"Does the brandy meet with your approval, Mr. Hornblower?"

Horatio turned to look at his other companion, the one who was not attempting to drive him to distraction. "Yes, My Lord. It does. Which of his Majesty's enemies do we have to thank for it?"

Edrington's gaze grew thoughtful. "I confess, that I do not know. The proprietor made no mention of its provenance, though given the quality I would hazard to guess that it is French. Would you care for some more?" he asked, gesturing towards Horatio's nearly empty snifter.

Horatio hesitated, unsure whether it would be wise to imbibe further. He could feel the alcohol-induced languor soaking through his body, making him feel relaxed and loose limbed. It was a pleasurable sensation to be sure, but he was not certain that he wished to risk his wits becoming shaken loose as well. He caught Archie watching him with a mischievous glint in his eye and a touch of challenge to the tilt of his head and the set of his jaw. More provocation. Horatio sighed inwardly. The earl was correct; Archie was impudent indeed.

Casting aside common sense in favor of much needed fortification, Horatio extended his glass in the earl's direction. "Yes, thank you, My Lord."

"Mr. Kennedy?"

"With pleasure, My Lord."

His glass replenished, Horatio took another cautious sip. He resolutely refused to look in Archie's direction in the hope that by ignoring his flirtations, Archie might cease to make them. It was, he suspected, a vain hope.

Archie gave a contented sigh.

"I take it the brandy also meets with your approval, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Oh yes, very much so. I can't remember the last time I tasted anything so exquisite." In spite of himself, Horatio shot a quick glance in Archie's direction, just in time to see a wide grin break across his face, eyes sparkling with good humor. Horatio's resolution crumbled.

"Claret is the liquor for boys, port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy," Archie quoted, raising his snifter as if in toast.

Edrington quirked a brow. "Johnson, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Indeed, My Lord." Archie smiled, obviously pleased that at least one of his companions knew the reference. Horatio almost never did.

"I am surprised to hear a naval officer quoting Johnson. If I recall correctly, did he not say that being in a ship is like being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned?"

"Aye, My Lord, he did. But he also said that a man in a jail has more room, better food and commonly better company as well. I'd say that he shot wide of the mark on that, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, under the circumstances I find myself unable to argue that point so I shall tactfully withdraw from the field." Edrington said, raising his glass to Archie.

Archie beamed at him then raised his glass and took a sip of his brandy.  Another sigh followed.

"Horatio," Archie said turning to look at him, "do you remember that time we were in Plymouth? We were staying at that inn...what was the name...the one with the leak in the roof right over the bed?"

"The Boar's Head."

"Yes, that's it exactly. And remember we made the error of having a brandy in the common room?"

Horatio could not help but chuckle as memory rose up. Archie joined him.

"I take it the brandy was not quite what you had expected?" Edrington ventured, taking a sip of his own.

"Hardly. It was without a doubt the vilest brew I have ever tasted, and being in the Navy I have had ample opportunity to make comparison," Archie replied, pulling a face. "I thought they had filled our glasses with lamp oil by mistake."

"It was worse than that even," Horatio countered. "It could have served most effectively to strip paint off a ship's hull."

"Or barnacles!"

Horatio chuckled again. "I seem to recall that in lieu of drinking it, we were considering a test of its...combustible properties."

"We were rather well toasted at the time," Archie clarified with only the faintest hints of embarrassment.

"You didn't proceed with your experiment I hope?"

Horatio frowned. "Unfortunately we never had an opportunity. A brawl broke out instead. Something to do with the bosun of the Vigilant and his untoward fondness for sheep." Horatio frowned then shrugged. "We never did hear the entire story. In any case, the man in question and some of his mates strongly objected to the remark and fisticuffs ensued."

"Just another typical shore leave," Archie said with a smile. "But it wasn't the bosun, Horatio. It was the ship's master."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

Horatio shrugged, unperturbed.

"We had a great deal of fun that leave, didn't we Horatio?"

"Yes, yes we did," Horatio admitted with an answering smile of his own. "We were still mids back then," he explained to Edrington who studied them both with that keen assessing gaze of his. "It wasn't long after war had been declared and we had only recently been transferred to the Indefatigable. Mr. Kennedy, as I recall, had been all but bouncing off the bulkheads in his excitement at the news," he added, pleased to turn the tables on the entirely too clever Archie for a change.

"I was not!" Archie protested vehemently. At his violent gesture of denial, brandy sloshed along the sides of his snifter and threatened to spill out over the rim. He took the only sensible course of action: he took another long drink. He glared darkly at Horatio for a moment, but the ill humor evaporated almost instantly and gave way to laughter.

"Very well. I will concede that Mr. Hornblower is correct in his assessment, but really can you blame me? After nine months of being stuck on that scow Justinian and then to get transferred to a frigate! And not just any frigate, either: the Indefatigable, Captain Sir Edward Pellew's ship. It felt like bloody divine providence."

"Yes it did," Horatio said. He gazed thoughtfully into his glass. At the time, still mired in guilt over Clayton's death, it had felt more like ill earned fortune, a boon he'd been awarded but did not deserve. But time, experience and much reflection had given Horatio the perspective to accept the tragic turn of events. Clayton's sacrifice was a memory now tinged more with gratitude and affection than remorse. Choices made and consequences-reluctantly-- accepted. It was the way of things in war. And in love as well.

"You were indeed most fortunate, gentlemen. I know of no finer captain than Edward Pellew."

"You never did tell us how you knew the captain, My Lord," Archie said peering at the earl over the rim of his glass.

"I haven't?" he replied, his expression bland, as he swirled his brandy along the sides of the snifter with practiced ease.

"No, you haven't," Archie pressed.

Edrington cast a speculative look first at Archie and then at Horatio. "Very well, if you must know. We met perhaps six months before the war began at a levee hosted by the Duke of Pembroke in London. Pembroke is a friend and ardent supporter of Admiral Lord Hood so there were a number of naval officers in attendance. He is also a distant relation of my family, hence why I was invited. It was a tedious affair, as such things tend to be and I feared that I would die of boredom."

A faint smile traced Edrington's lips. "Fortunately, I encountered Edward Pellew instead who was every bit as bored as myself. We struck up a conversation and before we knew it, a friendship had been forged. We saw a great deal of one another in London until the war began and the call of duty sounded. I confess, I miss his company, but that is one of the sacrifices that we are called upon to make in His Majesty's service, is it not?

Edrington's gaze grew distant, and there was a touch of...longing in his voice when he spoke again. "Edward's a fine man, one of the finest I have ever known. I consider myself fortunate to have made his acquaintance."

"As do we," Archie replied.

Horatio nodded his agreement somewhat absently and dropped his gaze into the glass he held cradled in his lap, thinking on the earl's words and the tinge of melancholy that inflected his voice when he spoke of his admiration for Captain Pellew.

"Mr. Hornblower?"

Horatio looked up, startled from his reverie. "Yes?"

The earl studied him for a moment and his eyes softened fractionally before he adopted a casual demeanor. "I said would you care for a cigar?"

Horatio eyed the proffered cigar with some reluctance. He did not particularly enjoy smoking, but he had come to accept that it was something of a social ritual among officers and men of breeding. As such, a young officer was expected to participate with both enthusiasm and good grace when such occasions presented themselves, which they did more frequently as an officer advanced through the ranks. Horatio had come to view the smoking of cigars in much the same manner he did dancing and the art of polite conversation: something to be mastered and utilized when called upon to do so.

Not wanting to offend the earl, especially after the earlier awkwardness over accepting his hospitality for the remainder of the night, Horatio accepted the cigar that Edrington graciously lit for him.

Archie was having no such problems. Sprawled even more comfortably in his chair than before, a cigar in one hand and a brandy in the other, he was the very picture of a young libertine in mid-debauch. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes had that slightly unfocused quality to them that Horatio recognized as signs of incipient drunkenness, hardly unexpected given the quantity of spirits they had both imbibed.

Archie looked over at him and gave him a cheeky grin before he raised his cigar to his lips and inhaled deeply. He pursed his lips and then, his eyes still holding Horatio's own, he exhaled. A delicate ring of smoke issued from his mouth, floating upward before it dissipated completely. Archie's smile broadened at the accomplishment.

"Very good, Mr. Kennedy," Edrington praised. "But can you do this?"

Edrington took a long pull on his own cigar and then, just as Archie had done, he pursed his lips and exhaled, not once, but twice. A ring of smoke emanated from his mouth, followed by a second, smaller ring that slipped inside the first, like an arrow through a bull's eye.

Archie's eyes widened in amazement and his mouth stretched into a slow grin. He looked, Horatio thought, like a child who had just been shown a clever card trick by a boulevard cardsharp. Horatio could not have stopped the indulgent smile that curved his lips even had he tried.

"That's wonderful!" Archie exclaimed in obvious delight. "You must show me how you did that!"

"With pleasure, Mr. Kennedy," Edrington announced and proceeded to do just that. Horatio leaned back in his own chair and watched the two of them together, the smoke from his own cigar rising up in a less artful manner. Archie proved a quick study and had soon mastered the trick, sending ring after ring of smoke towards the ceiling under the fond eye of his unlikely tutor and amidst peals of his own joyful laughter.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Archie asked, slightly breathless.

A small secretive smile graced the earl's lips. "Actually, that was a little trick that Edward taught me."

"Captain Pellew?"

"Indeed. Edward is a man of many remarkable and unexpected talents. I've learned a great many things under his tutelage," he said somewhat cryptically. For a moment, Horatio thought he might elaborate, but he remained silent, that same mysterious smile in place.

"Like what?" Archie asked, curiosity clearly writ upon his face.

Edrington shook his head. "I'm not sure it would be prudent to say, even among friends."

"Tell us."

"I do not believe that I should."

"Please?" Archie wheedled. He gazed at the earl with an earnest, pleading expression. It was an expression Horatio knew well, and one against which he had no defense. He wondered whether or not the earl would prove less susceptible than he.

The earl studied Archie, his own expression grave. "It would be a serious breach of confidence if I were to tell you..." his voice trailed off.

Archie, recognizing the opening, pounced immediately. "But...?"

"Well, I *could* show you. That is if you are sure that you wish to know?"

Archie nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, please."

"Very well," Edrington said. He rose gracefully from his chair and moved to stand in front of Archie who rose somewhat unsteadily, responding to the obvious but unspoken command. The earl took a step closer, gently framed Archie's face in his hands and then proceeded to kiss him full on the lips.

Horatio watched the tableau in a state of speechless wonder. He should have been startled, he knew, by this sudden and unexpected turn of events. More than that, he should have been outraged that the earl had dared to lay hands on 'his' Archie and was even now engaged in a most intimate and indeed carnal embrace.

And yet to his utmost astonishment he did not feel shocked or angry, but rather oddly intrigued. Perhaps it was due to the spirits he had imbibed, and the lassitude of both body and mind that they had wrought. Perhaps it was the subtle hints that the earl had dropped over the course of the evening, the knowing gazes and secretive smiles and more recently the longing in his voice when he spoke of Captain Pellew. They added up to something, though Horatio hadn't understood until now, and perhaps he still did not understand completely. All he knew was that the scene before him invoked a curious sense of fascination and, to his even greater surprise, arousal.

The earl released Archie and stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides. Archie stumbled backwards a step or two, unsteady from more than spirits now. He blinked as if suddenly coming awake and then his eyes went wide and his mouth formed a perfect 'o' of surprise. It made for a fetching picture, Horatio thought, one that would be very hard to resist.

And indeed the earl did not seem inclined to resist. He moved close once more and placed a hand against the nape of Archie's neck and gently pulled him forward into another kiss. Archie froze for a moment, but only a moment, before he slid his arms around the earl and returned the kiss.

The expected flare of jealousy did not surface as Horatio watched Archie melt into the other man's embrace. Instead he sat there, enthralled, trapped in a strange state of lethargy, while the gentle warmth of arousal gathered in his balls and in his belly and began to wend its way slowly through his limbs. Archie's arms had stolen up along the earl's back, pulling him in even closer. The earl was occupied as well. The hand at Archie's nape had tugged the ribbon free from his pigtail and now clutched a handful of soft hair while the other hand drifted lower to rest quite comfortably on the curve of Archie's arse.

Minutes stretched and the kiss lengthened until finally they broke apart, flushed and slightly breathless. The earl reached up and brushed the hair back from Archie's brow, the gesture as tender as the smile lighting his features. Archie's expression remained bemused but there was something burning in his eyes, something dark and mischievous. He slid his hand up along the earl's neck and pulled him near. He did not kiss him, however, but tilted his head and whispered into the other man's ear.

Edrington and Archie turned to look at Horatio then. The earl's gaze was assessing; Archie's, smoldering. The earl turned back to Archie and placed a chaste kiss upon his forehead before releasing him completely. Archie sank back into his chair, sprawling wantonly against the cushions, his eyes fixed on Horatio.

The earl walked over to stand before Horatio's chair. His gaze was still appraising, but now there was a hint of what appeared to be amusement glimmering there as well. "Mr. Kennedy believes that you are in need of a kiss, Mr. Hornblower and I concur. Being of a generous nature, he has graciously ceded the privilege to me."

Horatio blinked, startled. He looked over at Archie who was watching them with an avid, heated gaze, a small, enigmatic smile tracing his lips. Horatio felt himself flush even as he was pulled upright and drawn into the other man's embrace.

"M...my Lord," Horatio protested, "I couldn't..."

"No, of course not, Mr. Hornblower," replied the earl smoothly as he leaned in to kiss him.

The kiss that the earl bestowed upon him was not at all what he expected. The touch was firm, yet delicate, strong and supple all at once, the taste of brandy and tobacco mingling on his tongue. The other man's lips moved against his with the ease and skill of experience and Horatio could understand why Archie had surrendered beneath the onslaught of those agile lips and clever tongue. He found himself moving closer without conscious thought, sinking himself more fully into the embrace.

And all the while Horatio was keenly aware of Archie's gaze upon him, heating his skin like a fervent caress. It was a strange experience, far more erotic than he ever would have dreamed in his wildest imaginings and he found himself helpless to resist as the kiss lengthened and deepened, halted then began anew.

Of its own accord, his hand reached out blindly in Archie's direction until another hand-Archie's hand--clasped it tightly, anchoring Horatio and holding him safe. He lost all track of time, caught up in the feel of soft lips against his own and strong arms drawn tight against his body. So gone was he that Horatio started when he felt another pair of hands touching him and another warm body pressed against his back

He broke the kiss at last and turned his head in invitation. Archie responded instantly, his mouth closing over Horatio's, lips molding to his with the familiarity of long and exuberant practice. His hands reached up blindly to tangle in Archie's hair and draw him in deeper, turning the kiss raw and urgent. Archie obliged him with lips and tongue, his arms stealing around Horatio until his hands rested on his belly.

Horatio felt another pair of lips moving against his neck, trailing wet kisses and warm breath that seared his skin. A sudden nip of sharp teeth made him gasp and Archie swallowed the sound whole even as he feasted upon Horatio's mouth. A pair of hands-Edrington's or Archie's he was no longer sure-began to tug at his stock, loosing the knot and removing the strip of fabric. Other fingers tugged at the buttons of his waistcoat, freeing them one by one before releasing the buttons on his shirt to expose his chest more fully.

His skin was burning, his body flushed and fevered with desire, trapped between two bodies, hard and soft, firm and yielding. It was, he dimly reflected, the most exquisite sensation imaginable. His mouth was released and hands caressed him. He heard a soft murmur, like a sigh and opened his eyes though he had no memory of closing them. He looked up to see Edrington kissing Archie once again, their bodies pressed close against his own, their breath hot against his neck. He saw a patch of exposed skin on Edrington's neck and leaned closer, drawn like a compass point to true north. He rasped his tongue across the skin and tasted salt. He smiled at the moan of pure pleasure the touch elicited and returned his attention to the flushed skin, tasting and teasing with lips, tongue and teeth. He found the spot just below the earl's jaw, the one that he knew made Archie shiver and moan whenever it was touched and he applied himself to it, delighted to discover that he could elicit a similar response from the other man as well.

Horatio's worlds had become nothing but heat and hardness. He was stiff in his breeches, the fabric painfully, deliciously taut against his cock. He could clearly feel the answering hardness against his hip and ass as he pressed his hips forward, seeking contact, before pressing back into an equally seductive touch. Twin moans sounded and Horatio smiled against the sweat damp skin beneath his lips.

Suddenly the other men pulled away. Bereft, it was Horatio's turn to moan at the loss of warmth and contact. He looked up to see Edrington gazing at him intently, his lips curled into what could only be described as a predatory smile. Horatio shivered at the sight of it.

"I believe that we should remove ourselves to a more comfortable venue, gentlemen," he announced in a voice that was rich and deep with lust.

Horatio nodded numbly and felt himself pulled along, beyond thought or will like a bit of flotsam on the tide. They stumbled together like drunkards, wending an unsteady path from the hearth to the bed where they collapsed in a tangle of limbs. He looked over to see Archie lying supine at his side, his hair loose and framing his flushed and shining face. His eyes were dark with desire but his smile was winsome and so achingly sweet that Horatio could not resist the urge to kiss him, so he didn't even try. The kiss was sharp, flavoured with hunger and animal lust, tobacco and brandy, and Archie responded with wild abandon.

Horatio was by now completely lost in the realm of sensation. The only thought that seemed to break through the haze of lust was that there were too many clothes: on him, on Archie, on the earl. He began to tug at Archie's stock, his fingers surprisingly clumsy. They slipped repeatedly until finally he succeeded in removing the inconvenient bit of fabric. Buttons proved to be slightly less cumbersome and the task was further simplified when another pair of hands joined his at the task. Archie's waistcoat was removed and Horatio quickly shrugged out of his own, tossing the garment carelessly to the floor.

He then turned his attention to his other companion. Shooting a heated glance at Archie, Horatio began to pull on Edrington's clothes, while Archie, his friend, his lover, his co-conspirator joined him in his task. The earl, not surprisingly, put up no resistance to their rather determined assault, apart from stealing a quick kiss from whoever was closest at hand at any given moment.

Their movements became more urgent, as limbs tangled and became indistinguishable from one another. Horatio felt a hand slip beneath his shirt and tweak a nipple, making him gasp in surprise, before another set of hands pulled his shirt up and over his head. Another hand stole up and tugged the ribbon from his hair to let it fall loose against his shoulders.

Horatio was tumbled down on to the mattress collapsing on his back where he found himself the helpless-but more than willing--victim of two sets of demanding hands and lips. They swarmed over him, kissing and touching, setting him alight. His eyes fluttered closed and he gave himself up to the sensations battering his body like a ship caught in a storm. A warm pair of lips latched on to his own, and he surrendered to them without hesitation. Another set of lips began a determined path down his chest, a fall of hair trailing across his skin, tickling him and making him moan. Hands tugged at the waistband of his breeches and then they were open and his cock was free at last, exposed to the cooler air. A tongue rasped across the underside of his cock, wet and hot and his hips bucked up in shock at the incredible sensation.

"Horatio," a voice whispered in his ear, a soft breathless sound filled with tenderness and need. He opened his eyes again to see Archie gazing down at him with burning, covetous eyes before he turned his gaze toward the earl propped up on the other side of his body. Archie and Edrington shared a charged gaze that made Horatio's cock twitch almost painfully.

"My Lord?" Archie asked, in a low, throaty purr.

"You have already ceded one courtesy to me, Mr. Kennedy. I believe this one is yours," Edrington replied, his own voice equally husky.

"I will need something."

"Leave that to me." Edrington leaned over and gave Archie a sharp kiss, Horatio another, and then he rose from the bed, the mattress shifting with the absence of his weight. For a brief moment Horatio wondered where he had gone but then that thought skittered away, submerged beneath the skillful assault Archie's inquisitive fingers and nimble tongue.

The bed shifted again, signaling the earl's return. Archie kissed him again then nuzzled against his neck. "Turn over on your side, Horatio," he directed in a soft, lust soaked voice. Horatio complied without thought or hesitation.

Archie slid behind him, his chest pressed against Horatio's back as his hands continued their exploration of his naked chest. He twisted one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a sharp tug that sent a fierce thrill of pain and pleasure racing through Horatio's body. Archie nuzzled against his nape, planting wet kisses along the back of his neck and across his shoulders as he whispered tender endearments that seared Horatio's skin with warmth and tenderness.

The earl had moved closer as well, to kiss and nip his way across Horatio's chest, blazing a random trail of heat with his passing. Horatio gasped when he felt a hand wrap itself around his manhood and tug ever so gently at its length. The hand was slick upon his overheated skin and slid with ease from base to head before it repeated the gesture in the opposite direction, drawing a rumbling moan from his throat at the movement.

Hands rested upon his thigh, stroking the skin, before his leg was raised and bent. The hands shifted to run along his flanks and around the curve of his arse, moving inexorably lower to slip between his legs and brush against his opening. Horatio started at the touch of warm slick fingers then relaxed as Archie breathed soft words and warm, moist air against his neck, soothing him like a skittish colt. Fingers moved inside him, a slow press of a single digit that was joined by others as he was opened with exquisite care.

Sweat began to form on his skin and his body felt flushed as if from fever. He arched back into the sensation, demanding more, secure in the knowledge that he would not be denied. The fingers pressed deeper and he groaned at the loss when they were removed, even though he knew what their absence presaged.

"Horatio," Archie said with a soft nip to his earlobe. It was a request, an endearment, a benediction and Horatio replied without thought, without hesitation.

"Yes."

Horatio drew in a deep breath then released it slowly through clenched teeth as Archie breached his entrance. He was vibrantly aware of Archie behind him, his chest pressed against Horatio's back, his arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him still, his face buried in the thick hair at Horatio's nape. His scent was in Horatio's nose, a mixture of salt, brandy and the pungent smell of tobacco, and the familiar but ineffable scent that Horatio had come to associate with Archie. He pushed in deeper, filling Horatio by degrees, his progress maddeningly slow. With a grunt Horatio pushed back and sheathed Archie to the root, earning him a gasp of surprise and a groan of what could only be described as pure animal lust.

They began to move in a slow lazy rhythm, undulating in counterpoint to one another. Horatio tried to quicken the pace, but Archie would have none of it. He grasped Horatio's hips and held him steady, keeping the rhythm slow and light as he moved and thrust inside Horatio's body.

There were other sensations as well. The feel of another pair of hands on his body and another pair of lips roaming across sweat slick skin, of another body moving against his. And then there was a mouth upon his member. He bucked and gasped, his hips driving forward into that wet, fiery heat before shifting back against the hard, heavy cock that filled him from behind.

Fever built and his pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the sound of his own sobbing moans, the slapping of flesh, and the wet, suctioning sound of avid, hungry mouths working against his skin. Dizzy from the twin assaults upon his person, Horatio surrendered himself completely. He bucked and thrashed between them, ricocheted from one intense point of pleasure to another. He felt himself drawn along like the tide, drifting out to the wide, welcoming embrace of the sea only to sweep back and crash against the shore, breaking into a thousand bits, to be restored once more and return to the source.

Horatio was only dimly aware of the ragged breaths and gasps of pleasure emanating from Archie's mouth. There were words interspersed as well, jumbled and nonsensical, but Horatio understood them like a native tongue. Their rhythm faltered as the pace quickened and their bodies heaved and writhed and danced to the tune of pure pleasure. There was no volition, no control, only need as lust rushed through their veins like life's blood and then Archie drove deep into his body, piercing him through as he reached his climax. His arms tightened about Horatio's chest and he gave a raw, gasping moan that he smothered against Horatio's shoulder, the sound reverberating through him. Archie's hips snapped forward again and again as he emptied himself and then his body went lax, melting against Horatio's back, clinging to him like a limpet.

Horatio himself was not far behind. Edrington's clever mouth teased and tormented him, pulling pleasure up from the soles of his feet. A stray hand reached up to tweak a sensitive nipple while another rolled his balls around in their sac like a pair of dice about to be cast. And then Horatio was coming as well. White sparks danced before his eyes and a soft, soundless cry was torn from his throat as he spilled his seed. His body trembled from release and darkness beckoned at the edges of his vision. Horatio surrendered to its embrace.

He drifted comfortably for a time, pleasure still dancing along his nerves, his limbs heavy and loose with satiation. It was, he decided, the most marvelous feeling in the world, almost like standing on the top gallants of the Indefatigable as the wind streamed around his body and the gulls swooped playfully overhead.

Horatio sighed and stretched languidly against the soft bedding. He would no doubt be sore on the morrow but right at that very moment, he could not have cared less.

It was the sounds that caught his attention and drew him out of his state of blissful exhaustion. Soft sounds echoed in his ears, the faint creak of the bed and breathy moans. He opened his eyes and gazed in the direction of the sounds and caught his breath at the sight of two pale bodies, one long and lean, the other shorter and more compact undulating together. Archie was sprawled on the bed, his arms flung out at his sides, a leg thrown wantonly over Edrington's shoulder. The earl moved above him, within him, his rhythm controlled and unhurried. Edrington leaned down and took Archie's mouth in a long, slow kiss and Archie reached up to thread one of his hands through the other man's unbound hair.

Horatio rolled over on his side, moving closer to the two men. He watched them with rapt fascination as their bodies writhed together and the most exquisite sounds emanated from their mouths. The sight of Archie lost in the throes of passion was not an unfamiliar one, but it seemed so very different now that Horatio was a spectator rather than an active participant. There were so many things he had never noticed before, such as the way Archie's hand fisted in the sheets beneath, twisting the fabric, then releasing it only to clutch it again, or the way the fine golden hairs along his arms and calves glowed softly in the firelight, or the way his ear looked so pink and vulnerable against the mane of red-gold hair.

He felt an overpowering compulsion to touch and he gave in to it with only the slightest of hesitations. He ran an inquisitive hand along sweat-dewed flanks, feeling muscles quiver slightly beneath his touch. He let the backs of his fingers glide along bare skin, reveling in warmth and softness, eliciting a moan. Horatio smiled at the sound. Emboldened, he allowed his hands free reign, touching both men at leisure.

He watched as Edrington leaned in to kiss Archie again, saw the two blond heads bent together-one brazen, one pale gold-so similar in the dim light and yet so remarkably, amazingly different. Horatio reached out to touch Archie's hand where it clutched at the bed. He gently disentangled it from the sheets and raised it to his lips to place a reverent kiss against the damp palm.

Archie shifted his head to look at Horatio through half-lidded eyes. Horatio held his gaze then with the greatest of tenderness, placed a kiss against each finger pad in turn. Archie smiled at him, a sweet, dazed smile that cut Horatio to the quick. Archie's eyes were dark and unfocused beneath heavy lids, but there was no mistaking the devotion within their depths. Horatio threaded his fingers through Archie's, clasping their hands firmly together, grounding him with touch and gaze while Edrington loved him.

Horatio reached out with his other hand, letting it rest for a moment against the earl's body, feeling the taut muscles straining beneath his palm. He stroked the skin, letting his touch echo the movement and pace of the other man's body. The earl's body was moving quickly now and Horatio knew that he must be nearing his completion. As if that thought was a prod, Edrington stiffened beneath his touch, his body tense and his face twisted in a rictus of pained pleasure as he came at last.

Edrington collapsed on top of Archie, spent and gasping for air. He laid there for some time while Horatio continued to pet and soothe him, until the sweat began to dry against his cooling skin. Finally, Edrington slipped from Archie's body and tumbled over into the empty space between Horatio's and Archie's recumbent bodies.

Edrington leaned over and placed a kiss against Archie's brow, a tender and strangely chaste gesture in view of what had just transpired. Archie gazed up at the earl, his features blurred with contentment and satiation, a sweet, sleepy smile etched upon his lips before his eyes fluttered closed.

"Mmmm...Night, 'Ratio, M'Lord," he said before his breath evened out and sleep overcame him.

The earl turned to look at Horatio. His face was still flushed from his exertions, but there was a softness there that touched Horatio more than he would have imagined.

"I had hoped to extend to you the same courtesy that you gave to Mr. Kennedy earlier, Mr. Hornblower," he confided in a low voice, "but I find that I am so exhausted at the moment that I would not be able to enjoy the experience as fully as either of us deserves. I would, however, be happy to extend a promise of such a...liaison for the morrow if you are so inclined."

Horatio smiled. "It would be my pleasure, My Lord."

Edrington gave him a faintly ironic smile. "I would hope that it would be both our pleasures, sir," he remarked rather archly. "But we will need to rest a while before testing that hypothesis, I believe. Goodnight to you, Mr. Hornblower."

"And to you, My Lord."

Edrington leaned over and just as he had done with Archie, pressed a gentle kiss to Horatio's forehead as if to seal the promise. He gave Horatio one last fleeting smile before he rolled over on to his back, closed his eyes and gave himself over to slumber.

For some time after, Horatio laid there some time on his side and watched the other two men sleeping peacefully nearby until exhaustion began to creep into his bones making his limbs as heavy as iron weights. His lids at half-mast, he yawned hugely, then closed his eyes completely and joined his companions in sated sleep.

Horatio was slowly drawn into wakefulness by the insistent pressure of his bladder. He resisted the pull for as long as he could, wanting nothing more than to remain adrift in the warm, soothing darkness of blissful slumber. Unfortunately, try though he might he could not block out the more physical concerns of his body that demanded his attention.

He shifted on to his back and blinked up at the ceiling, trying to clear away the sense of disorientation that accompanied an awakening in the small hours of the morning. He could feel the softness of a bed beneath him and the touch of linen against his skin that indicated that he was ashore. He shifted his head to his left, taking in the fire that had burned low in the hearth, leaving much of the room in shadow. He turned his head to the right and saw the curve of a bare shoulder peeking out from beneath the blanket and a mane of blond hair that was longer and paler than he was accustomed to.

That realization snapped into full wakefulness at once as the memory of the night's events rose up before him. He peered more closely at the other man, but there was no mistake. Horatio was indeed looking at the back of the slumbering Earl of Edrington. And just beyond him, curled on his side, lay Archie, likewise soundly and peacefully asleep

Horatio flopped back on the bed. The haze of alcohol and lust from the previous evening had largely burned itself out leaving his mind surprisingly clear and unfettered. It had all seemed almost like a dream, the events so strange and wonderfully, deliriously carnal that he had thought them nothing more than a flight of fancy. Yet here he was, naked-he confirmed that fact by peering quickly under the blanket-along with two other men in a like state of undress. Finding Archie curled up warm and naked in his bed was not entirely unexpected, though there was still enough novelty that such a discovery invariably sent a thrill down Horatio's spine. Finding the Earl of Edrington there, however, most assuredly qualified as a surprise.

But not, Horatio reflected, an unpleasant one. Even as he lay there, memories teased at his mind and echoed through his body, memories of soft lips, sure hands and strong, well muscled limbs. He remembered raw need and fierce hunger, but he also remembered tenderness, a sweet, aching gentleness that bordered on reverence. As unexpected as the night's proceedings had been, Horatio could not claim that he had not enjoyed them and enjoyed them immensely.

The pressure on his bladder had now grown uncomfortable. With a sigh, Horatio slipped out of the warm bed and made his way to the chamber pot in the corner. His bodily needs seen to, Horatio padded over to the window. He pulled aside the drape and peered into the darkness. The snow was still falling heavily outside, but the wind at least seemed to have died down. He stood and watched the snow until gooseflesh rose up along his skin and the warmth of the bed beckoned to him like a lover. Or, he thought wryly, two of them.

When he reached the bed, he paused, noticing something resting on the bedside table. He squinted against the darkness and realized it was the pot of butter. He frowned for a moment at the incongruity until he remembered slick hands on his skin, and inside his body. Apparently they had used the butter to ease the way, an eminently practical choice since it was already on hand.

On hand...

Another fragment of memory floated to the surface: "Leave the rest of the bread and the butter. I find that I sometimes become hungry in the small hours". Those had been the earl's exact words. It had been a casual, off hand request, perfectly reasonable, but suddenly it did not appear as innocent as it might have been.

Horatio's frown deepened. He had assumed that the events of the previous evening had been coincidental, an entirely unexpected turn of events engendered by an extraordinary set of circumstances: the storm, a prodigious quantity of spirits, the play with the cigars and Archie's persistent curiosity about Captain Pellew's mysterious "tutelage" and the lessons that he had imparted to Edrington.

'He planned this,' Horatio thought to himself. 'At least by the time he called for the brandy, he had planned it.' It was not then a spontaneous seduction, but a premeditated one. But how premeditated? Had Edrington planned this after the dinner was already under way? Or even when they had first encountered one another in the street? Horatio wasn't entirely sure he really wanted to know the answer to that particular question.

He yawned, a reminder that it was both too late and too early to dwell upon such things. Sliding under the blankets he snuggled into the softness of the bed, still warm despite the chill of the room. There were no answers waiting for him in the darkness he knew and tomorrow was soon enough worry about such things. With that resolution made, he closed his eyes and let himself drift to sleep once more.

When Horatio awoke once more, it was to the even less pleasant sensation of a pounding skull and a foul, sour taste in his mouth. Oh yes, he knew this, remembered this feeling from other shore leaves during which enthusiasm and high spirits had overcome good sense. It occurred with slightly less frequency now then it had in his early days in the service, but it was familiar enough-and unpleasant enough-that he really should know better by now.

He remained as still as possible, knowing all too well that even the slightest of movements could set off additional shocks of pain through his already throbbing head. He kept his eyes tightly shut and wished for a quick and untimely death.

He heard a groan and for a moment he was befuddled; he didn't recall opening his mouth. There was another sound, however, and it clarified matters considerably.

"Oh God."

Horatio cracked open one eye and turned his head to his right with considerable care. Archie was stretched out at his side, an arm flung across his eyes presumably to block out the light, which, if Horatio's own experience was any gauge, was trying to pierce his brain like needles through his eyelids.

"Archie?" Horatio's voice sounded rough to his own ears.

"Oh god, Horatio. Kill me now," Archie moaned. "If ever you held the slightest affection for me, then please find a pistol and put me out of my misery. Please, I beg of you."

Horatio could not help but smile at Archie's plea, even though it set off another round of pain. "I'm afraid I can't help you. I love you like a brother, but it is each officer for himself. You will have to take your own measures."

"You're a cold-hearted bastard, Hornblower," Archie said, the words sounding somewhere between a growl and a whine. "I would do it for you."

Horatio did not have time to formulate a response. The bed dipped at his side and another voice intruded in the conversation.

"Here, drink this."

Horatio turned his head once more. This time he was greeted by the far less pitiful sight of the Earl of Edrington, sitting on the edge of the bed with a cup extended in Horatio's direction. Horatio struggled into a seated position, gritting his teeth as another spear of pain shot through his head, threatening imminent explosion. He took the cup and eyed it warily.

"What is it?"

"I am not entirely sure, but the proprietor assures me that it is an exceptionally effective remedy against the ills of overindulgence. You appear as if you are in grave need of such a tonic. You too, Mr. Kennedy," he said, handing another cup to Archie.

Horatio took a cautious sip and made a face at the bitterness of the brew. Some kind of tea, he surmised. Closing his eyes he took another sip. It was still bitter, but a little more bearable now that he was steeled against the taste and the liquid felt against his throat. He dutifully continued to drink. Perhaps it was his imagination, perhaps it was his desperation, but it did indeed seem as if his headache was starting to abate to manageable levels and the hint of nausea that had begun roiling through his gut had faded as well.

He cast a glance at the man seated on the edge of the bed. "You're looking quite well, My Lord."

And he did. Wrapped in a dressing gown, his blond hair spread loose across his shoulders, Edrington appeared singularly unaffected by the large quantity of spirits he had imbibed the previous night.

"Do I?" he replied in a cool, faintly amused tone. "Perhaps I simply have a better head for drink, or at least more experience at engaging in such indulgences."

The earl's haughty expression suddenly softened. "Given what we shared last night, I dare say we have no need for formality between us. I would be most honoured if you gentlemen would address me by my given name, Frederick."

"Freddy?" Archie aske