JUNE 1946
It was a high-level strategic meeting at the Pentagon, and General Robert E. Hogan was in the center of the action. Freshly returned from Europe, having done his part in attaining peace there and in the Pacific, he was playing a pivotal role in protecting U.S. interests against further attacks on democracy.
"Air bases in Britain are vital," General Butler was saying. "But it's not only the bases. It's the need for land to house our airmen and their families. And at a time when Britain itself is in desperate need of creating housing…"
"It's a sticky wicket," Hogan said. "We're going to have to negotiate."
"Precisely. And Hogan, there's an important part you can play."
Of course there is. There always is, Hogan thought. Throughout the war, he had been deployed in Britain and across Europe. His reputation as a brilliant tactician and creative problem solver constantly preceded him.
Hogan just raised his eyebrows. That was enough to encourage General Butler to proceed. "You're a single man, Hogan, and relatively young. The highest ranking man under age 50 in the U.S. Army Air Force. That's a bargaining chip."
"My being young and single is a bargaining chip?" Hogan wondered. How? It wasn't exactly a secret. He was a renowned playboy whose picture had been in the papers regularly during his last year in London, escorting a different date every night.
"Yes. We have a landowner whose estates surround RAF Lakenheath, Mildenhall, Upper Heyford, Chicksands and several other key bases."
"All of those bases?" Hogan asked. "They're pretty far flung."
"Indeed," General Butler said. "But this family's pattern of intermarriages has secured for them the largest land holdings in Britain, more than even the Crown Estate. They own more than 200,000 hectares."
"Ah, the Marquess of Heyford," General Barton put in. "Interesting." The Marquess was constantly in the news with ideas and theories about human reproduction and sexuality, which of course were among the most debated issues of the day.
"And he has a child of marriageable age. Twenty six years old, to be precise. You, General Hogan, are 38. It's time to wed, man."
Hogan didn't get flummoxed often, but he was rattled now. "What are you saying?"
"In the British aristocracy, marriage is a contract, Hogan, a means of achieving an end. Linking together the fortunes of two families, ensuring that the name lives on, that sort of thing. In this case, the end is to secure the land needed to support those bases—75,000 hectares scattered across England. Think of the United States of America as your family. The Marquess of Heyford is willing to play ball with us, if…"
"If…" Hogan echoed irritably.
"If you marry into his family, he will lease the land to the United States for 99 years, with a renewal clause for an additional 99 years. This has been vetted with the Secretary of War and with the Commander in Chief himself," General Butler added. "And you will be generously compensated."
"The girl must be a real dog if her old man has to go through all that trouble to give her away," General Barton muttered. He wasn't known for being tactful.
"It's actually the Marquess's youngest son," General Butler said. "And he's considered something of a catch, despite the fact that he's unlikely to come into the title. There's an older brother, you see, who was himself wed recently to the daughter of the Duke of Birnam."
"Ah. New times," General Barton replied, reddening slightly. Same-sex marriage had been around for more than a generation now—The Roaring Twenties had seen to that. But he was old-fashioned and the notion of men with men left him uneasy. He remembered a time when faggots couldn't even serve in the military. Still, it made sense. There was a reason Hogan hadn't married. While he was a ladykiller with a well-known appetite for young, beautiful women, Hogan made no secret of the fact that he also liked to squire pretty young men. In General Barton's day, that was something a man would have had to hide, but in 1945, there were no longer any shameful secrets around sex.
"His son, huh?" Hogan said. "And he's 26? What the heck's wrong with him?"
"There's nothing wrong with him. As I said, he's a catch. He's actually quite a handsome, popular young man who has generally been partnered with men of around your age," General Butler said. "I understand he lost his beau in the invasion, and his father seeks his happiness. And your alliance with him is the key to obtaining the necessary land."
"But why me?"
"Hogan, do you really have to ask that question?" General Moriarty had taken the floor. "You're one our most celebrated war heroes, and you're young and matinee-idol handsome. The family wishes to align with you."
"With that kind of dough, they could marry into the Royal Family. They don't need a mick from Connecticut who's one generation off the boat."
The generals all snickered in unison. "They have no interest in that," General Butler said. "The Marquess's exact words were, 'They're far too ugly.'"
"Well, even if I agree, I'm not exactly going to procreate with their son," Hogan wisecracked. Or anyone else, he swore to himself. He'd been Papa once and that was plenty.
General Butler went silent, and Hogan's heart raced. Oh no. He couldn't possibly mean that. Seriously? Two men making a baby? He had to be kidding. Half the fun of gay sex was not having to worry about pregnancy.
"Actually, Hogan, there are significant advances underway in reproductive technology. So yes, that is indeed part of the plan. The marriage must be consummated and every effort must be made to conceive your own children within holy wedlock to ensure the future of the title. The Marquess wants grandchildren by this son. I promise it will not be unpleasant."
Hogan was too stunned to reply, and General Butler took advantage of his silence.
"The thing is, Hogan, it's all been decided. You're the perfect candidate, and you have been betrothed to the Marquess' son. Your flight leaves tomorrow, and the wedding is in one month. You will return home to the States after an extended honeymoon. We will make every effort to ensure it is an enjoyable leave for you."
"What? Don't I get a choice?"
"I'm sorry, Hogan, but the betrothal has already been executed by the government."
"You can't do that!"
"We can, and you know that, Hogan. The Military Government Act of 1941 gave the federal government sweeping authority over the personal lives of military personnel. As an officer above the rank of Major, you are quite literally property of Uncle Sam until you can retire, which, by my calculation, will be in four years."
"Shit. I knew I shouldn't have voted against Roosevelt in the 1940 election. Well, do I get to meet the boy first?"
"Of course. You'll meet and propose to him at his father's estate in Buckinghamshire," General Butler said. "The proposal is very important, Hogan. It must be sincere or the deal will be off."
"Wait one cotton-picking minute. You already promised me. Why do I have to propose?"
"There are his feelings to consider, Hogan. He wasn't consulted about any of this."
"I wasn't consulted either!" Hogan's voice was getting shrill. "And what about my feelings?"
The generals in the room looked at one another, then huddled. General Butler emerged from the pack to deliver the consensus: "As a General, you don't actually have feelings, Hogan, so it's a moot point."
Hogan was running out of objections. He reached deep into his bag of tricks. "But I don't want to!"
The generals all burst into laughter. "Nobody cares what you want," General Moriarty guffawed. "Hogan, you're a General and these are your orders from the Secretary of War and the Commander in Chief."
"This is ridiculous! It's impossible!"
The generals laughed in unison again, which was really getting on Hogan's last nerve. "That's why it's so perfect for you, Hogan," said General Butler, who was trying very hard to keep a straight face. "When any assignment looks ridiculous or impossible, yours is the first name we think of."
"But… I'm not ready to settle down," Hogan said.
"No one is asking you to settle down, Hogan," said General Arnold, who had been standing at the back of the room. "You can do as you like with whomever you like, male or female. We are simply instructing you to get married, and to bring your bride – uh, husband – back here with you. That is his father's sole condition, other than the substantial monetary compensation, a portion of which will go to his son, and therefore to you."
"How much?" Hogan asked.
"Ten percent of the annual lease of 75,000 hectares. Think of it as your commission," General Arnold said. "I don't wish to be crass, but seven figures can lay many concerns to rest. Incentives are built in, of course. You'll receive annual draws of 5% per year until you retire, rising to 10% until the principal is paid out, making you a very rich man by age 50. And to sweeten the deal, the Marquess will confer an immediate bonus equal of 20% of principal for the birth of each male heir and spare. You could really clean up if you sired a few boys, Hogan, and eventually you can live as grandly as you wish. Now if the marriage fails, you'll simply keep what you earned."
General Butler had something to add. "But it's a little better than that. You'll have rights of coverture with respect to the matrimonial property, Hogan. Do you understand what that means?"
Hogan shook his head no.
"Higgins?" General Butler said, gesturing to a Major who was seated at the back of the room.
"Under the terms of the betrothal, you are, for all practical purposes, the husband, while he is the wife," said Major Higgins. "His rights are subservient to yours. A marital dissolution is forbidden by the terms of the agreement, but if you should part in less than 12 years, while you would not earn any more draws, you would control the property. You would be expected, of course, to provide appropriately for your spouse and any children."
"We thought having the upper hand would be important to you," General Butler said. "You're accustomed to being in charge. His father raised no objections, provided that it is understood that the dowry is his son's and that you must provide for him in the manner to which he is accustomed."
Hogan pondered. He was probably accustomed to palaces and luxury. But it meant financial freedom, and surely no one would expect him to give up his bevy of female companions. Male company had always added some spice to his love life, and a 26-year-old… well, that was young and he was probably a spoiled brat, but he would be nice and tight, and he would surely have some endurance.
"Can I see a picture before I agree to this?"
"Of course you can, Hogan. But may I remind you that as an officer your highest obligation is to your country, and your country needs you. The betrothal has occurred. This is a done deal, and if you do not proceed, there will be significant consequences." General Butler pushed a manila file folder across the table to a glaring Hogan, who opened it.
"He served," Hogan said grudgingly "That's good." He liked a man in uniform, and this one had sparkling eyes. Blue, the paperwork said.
"Yes. With distinction. You'll read his record."
Yes, he would – later. Right now he was focused on one thing. "Very handsome," Hogan said. "He's healthy? No diseases?"
"Healthy, careful, and, we are told, quite virile, but not used up," General Butler said. "And eager for a change of scenery."
"Why?"
"He doesn't get along with his father," General Arnold said. "That's youth for you; he'll come around. My sons certainly did. But in the meantime, he's excited to come to the United States."
Hogan did some mental calculations. The family would be across the ocean, and that meant limited interaction. The dowry was substantial – he knew what the land was worth. Four more years in the Army, and he'd not only be ready to retire. He could live in complete luxury. And as this was a marriage of convenience, he could set the Marquess' son up in whatever life he wanted, and they could go their own ways. In the meantime, he'd have a nice little fling with a sexy young guy and do his duty.
And after all, Hogan reminded himself, he had signed up for this. Long before the law changed in 1941, it was expected of every military officer that he would accept the mission presented to him. No questioning orders. There was a reason General Winthrop, one of the most accomplished four star generals in the Army, had married Eva Braun only a month after his own wife passed.
Hogan thumbed through the file and saw additional pictures of the young man. Uniform. Casual. Formal. Babyhood. Boyhood. Shirtless. Swimsuit. Nude. He inspected that one carefully. Yes, that would do.
Accepting his fate, Hogan raised his head and nodded. "All right," he said. "When do I meet my fiancé?" He looked again at the papers to learn his name. "Lord Peter?"