Dear readers.

I am so sorry that it has taken nearly 3 months to update this story. Real life had a firm hold on me and pushes fun stuff like writing to the rear of the line. My knee surgery is done and I am recovering and back to work. Wendy starts school this week. Oh, life. Anyway, thanks for your patience and for staying with the story. Again, sorry for the delay in updating. Hope you enjoy!

Take care

JScorpio ... Indianapolis, Indiana, USA

Chapter 17 A Compromising Situation

Two days had passed since Miss Burwell had been persuaded—ordered, rather—by the dragoon officers to sign the reimbursement invoices to the British government. The girl cringed when she had been given more papers to affix her name to. Her heart ached when she pictured her father looking at her name inked on the cursed documents. She couldn't help but wonder what he would think; what he would do?

It was always the same. She signed on the line above the same mocking phrase: "Miss Betsy Burwell, ever faithful subject of the Crown." It was as if the words glared at her from the page, laughing silently at her every time she penned her signature. And although the ever diplomatic Captain Bordon had tried his best to alleviate her shame, assuring her that her father would understand that she had gone to extremes to survive, she felt no better. The poor girl had already experienced one sleepless night and two guilt filled days.

This evening, Betsy had retired early, right after supper, wishing to be alone. She tried reading, then writing in an attempt to take her mind off things, but that couldn't erase her own self reproach. The girl finally gave in and slipped under the covers, retreating to the familiar comfort and solace of her own bed.

Miss Burwell soon found herself tossing and turning, unable to sleep. It seems that even tonight, her own bed could not lull her into slumber. She gave up, feeling helpless, and sat up straight, looking about the darkness in her room. Betsy hugged her knees to her chest and rocked quietly. After a moment of the usually soothing motion, anguish seized the young girl and she began to weep.

Across the hall, Captain Bordon had drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened by nature's call. The officer wearily climbed out of bed, reaching for his watch on the nightstand as he did. Hugh flipped it open to check the time, then closed it and put it back on the table. The dragoon second in command walked groggily to the chamber pot to relieve himself.

He stood over the bowl and urinated. Bordon was used to hearing nothing but his piss pouring into the ceramic pot against the quiet of the night. But this night, he heard muffled sobs. Hugh thought they were coming from Miss Burwell's room.

When he was finished, he pulled his breeches on then threw his shirt on quickly, leaving it open at the collar and hanging loosely. The officer hesitated in his room at the door, listening for other noises in the hallway. He heard only the weeping of the girl.

Captain Bordon was apprehensive, wondering if Colonel Tavington had approached the Burwell girl with some order or reprimand that had upset her. Knowing that her bawling across the hall would keep him awake, he decided to go to her. He hoped a sympathetic ear would quiet the girl.

Leaving his room and crossing the corridor quietly, he rapped softly on the door. "Miss Burwell," the man called through the door. There was no answer.

Inside, Betsy immediately stifled her cries at the knock. It was the familiar voice of the affable Captain Bordon. She did not care to talk toanyone now—especially a redcoat. The teenager hoped he would leave if she did not answer.

Both stayed quiet for a moment, Betsy in her bedroom and Hugh on the other side of the door in the hallway. The officer and the girl played at the game of stubbornness, each listening for noise on the opposite side of the door.

After a moment, the captain spoke. "Miss Burwell," he rapped at the door again, "I know you're awake. I heard you."

The girl didn't answer. She pulled the covers up to her chin and sat still, waiting for Bordon to go away. A chill ran through her, making her pull the blanket even tighter to her body. Betsy scowled at the door in the dark, as if Bordon could see her threatening stare through it. Mad that he had disturbed her solace, she wanted him to go away.

In the hallway outside her door, the officer wasn't ready to give up. He was concerned for the girl, again wondering if she had had another confrontation with the colonel. The captain could wait and hear about it from the colonel, but he would still like to know Miss Burwell's side of what happened, if anything did.

A crafty Bordon reached over to his bedroom door and shut it, purposely loud enough for it to be heard. Then he stood stock still a moment, lest the floor creak beneath him.

Betsy heard the captain's door shut. Glad that he had gone to bed and relieved that she didn't have to talk to another redcoat, she let go a sigh of relief. Soon the tears filled her eyes again. This time she buried her face in the covers, hoping not to alert anyone again. The girl just wanted to sob in private.

Captain Bordon's patience was soon rewarded when after a moment, he heard the Burwell girl softly weeping again. The officer knocked on the girl's door again, startling her. "Miss Burwell, I can't sleep with you crying," he called. "Open the door."

"Go away!" she shouted, upset that he'd caught her crying again. The young girl sucked in a breath and held it, stopping her sobbing yet again.

Hugh sighed in frustration. When he heard no more noise from her room, he shook his head and turned toward his quarters. As he opened the door, he heard the girl's forlorn weeping yet again. The man was wide awake now and knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that his young captive was obviously so upset by something.

The officer resolved not to be refused this time. He spun on his heel to face the Burwell girl's door. Bordon knocked on the door, opening it at the same time without an invitation.

Betsy jumped, startled at the man's intrusion into her chambers. She thought he had given up and gone to bed. Her sobbing stopped mid cry as she grabbed the blanket up, covering herself up modestly. Hugh Bordon, as surprised as she was to find her in that state, turned his head to the side as she gathered herself into decency. He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped before he could do so.

"Leave me alone!" she said in her loudest whisper, straining to keep her voice down lest someone else discover the man in her room, though innocent.

"No," he refused. "You're troubled. What's the concern?"

She thrust her arm from beneath the blankets, pointing firmly at the door. "LEAVE!"

"No!," the captain insisted. "Your crying is keeping me awake. We will speak."

"I don't want to talk to any redcoat!" She fought back tears.

"Of course you don't," he smirked. "But there isn't anyone else awake to talk with, so you are stuck with me. We can't do this in your chambers." With that, he picked her robe up from the floor and threw it onto her bed.

She looked angrily at him, seething under her bedspread because he wouldn't go away. The girl knew she had to talk to him now, if only to get him to leave her alone.

"Join me in the dining room," he ordered in a firm voice. "I think we can both use a glass of wine."

Betsy reached for the robe. The officer turned his back to the girl, allowing her some modesty to slip it on. She was tying it closed as she passed the captain on her way out of the room.

In a moment, the two entered the darkened dining room. The moon showed through the large windows, illuminating the room just enough for the girl and the officer to see through eyes already used to the dark.

Hugh moved to the corner cabinet where the liquor was kept. He poured some brandy into a snifter for himself and quickly drained it. As his throat warmed from the drink, the man poured a small bit of wine into a goblet, then handed it to the girl. Betsy took a small sip and apathetically set the glass in front of her.

The moonlight through the windows was enough for Bordon to see the young lady staring blandly down at the light blue table cloth. He studied her for a moment, wondrous at how she blubbered tears just moments ago, and now how her spirit seemed a million miles away, leaving a shell of her behind gazing at an inanimate object, sure the girl wasn't even noticing the table.

After a minute passed, the captain sighed and sat down across from the girl. The scraping of the wooden chair on the floor as Bordon pulled the seat in under him was enough to rouse the girl from torpor. She stood up and turned to look out the window, as if trying to find some tranquility outside in the night. Then Betsy Burwell turned, wringing her hands as she paced back and forth.

"What troubles you," asked the officer.

The young lady spun instantly on her heels. Her hands were on her hips as she stared accusingly at the dragoons' resident diplomat. "Is it not apparent?"

"I don't read minds, Miss Burwell," he scolded lightly at the impetuous youth. "The idea is to converse."

Instead of answering, the girl resumed mindlessly treading the room again.

The cavalry leader took a deep breath, tired of the stirred antics and inexperience of youthfulness. He resisted his own urge to lash out at the girl, knowing that it would serve no purpose. Even though, he couldn't stem his sarcasm. "You've not had a problem speaking out to the colonel, missy," he reminded.

He watched as the Burwell girl stopped in her tracks. Indeed, the memory of her insolence to Colonel Tavington made her lacerated palms ache again. She caressed them, soothing herself as she looked at the floor, admitting silently that the captain was correct.

Though Hugh was concerned for the girl and the cause of her distress, he looked at the situation as a possible opportunity for intelligence. He never knew when a prisoner might utter some small gem of information. Often a captive in the midst of sadness or unrest could reveal a jewel of data without realizing they did.

"You listen," she answered, a bit embarrassed. "He doesn't."

"And I'm giving you the chance to air your concerns out now," he offered. The captain leaned back in his chair, noticing her apprehension. "I assume you find me easier to converse with than the colonel since you come to me with all your dealings."

Betsy sighed, feeling now that she had to speak with him. She felt trapped, wanting only to run back to her room.

Bordon smiled inwardly. He could see that he was getting to her, making her feel as though she had to reveal her thoughts.

"Speak your heart," the officer coaxed.

Betsy turned away from him, not wanting to share anything with this redcoat, diplomatic as he was. Yet she was bursting inside. She needed to talk.

She took a deep breath, then a dam somewhere inside her finally broke. "I miss my mother! I need her so much," she blurted. The girl began to pace as she released her thoughts. "And Steven! He just left against papa's wishes leaving me to run the farm. I don't want to run the plantation!"

Her tirade continued with Bordon listening intently. "And now he's gone. And Father is away commanding his troops, whom he seems to love more than me. He wouldn't even trade himself for me. And my fiancé is humiliating me by bedding his way through the Northwest territory!"

Hugh sighed as the young lady wailed, slightly disappointed. So far, he hadn't heard anything that he didn't know already. Still he kept quiet in hopes that something might be revealed.

Betsy went on, getting more emotional as she spoke. "And you lobsters! You kidnap me. The colonel delights in hurting me, mutilating my hands and beating me with his riding crop. You force me to sign papers that make me look like a turncoat! You seize my plantation and you've made me a prisoner in my own home!"

The girl stopped, breathless after she'd spilled all that was on her mind. She was panting as she looked at the dragoon second in command, fighting to hold tears back. Betsy had a helpless, pleading look on her face as she gazed at the dragoon officer. "Everything has happened so fast and unexpectedly."

"It usually does in a time of war," Hugh gently reminded.

"Nothing is the way I planned it for my life," she lamented.

"Even the best laid plans can go awry," he said.

"No!," Betsy retorted. "I never wanted any of this! I don't want to run the farm or any of this! I just want to live a regular girl's life."

Bordon jumped from his chair and challenged her. "You mean the life of a privileged young woman?"

"NO!" she countered. "I just want to be a plain old farm girl like before."

"Well, things aren't like before," Hugh firmly informed. "There is a war on! Did you think you would just lead a carefree life? My dear, this war has changed all our lives and how we lead them."

"Not me! I'm sick of this! I want papa!" She turned quickly and faced the door. Captain Bordon began to worry, knowing the girl to be rash.

"I didn't want this!", she shouted. "I'm leaving."

Hugh sucked in a breath, having to think quick as he watched Miss Burwell fall apart before his eyes. He had suspected that she would do something insane.

"Where are you going," he asked quickly, stalling her while he could get his thoughts together to find the words to calm her.

"I'm going to find my father!" she yelled in reply, seething as she looked on in anger, not so much at him, but at the situation.

The girl was having a teenage, adolescent fit. Yet Bordon understood that her frustrations were not misplaced. The captain knew that the girl needed her father, feeling for her that family was not about her at this time of war. He had been charged with her safety and well being and had tried his best to make her captivity tolerable.

As Miss Burwell raged on, Hugh feared that the increasing volume of her distress would wake the farm and bring curious onlookers and over protective servants. Moreover, he was afraid that her wild anguish would rouse his insensate superior from his sleep. Bordon foresaw that Lieutenant Colonel William Tavington would not be lenient.

"You're being absurd," he scolded gently as he rose from his chair. "You cannot leave."

"I will! I want my father!"

The captain began to approach the girl. "There are bandits and men out there along the road that will hurt you." He slowly raised his arm in front of him, whether to take her hand or grasp her shoulder if need be.

"There are redcoats here who seek to harm me," Betsy retorted, hands going to her hips.

"Yes, the colonel. He will never permit you to leave," Bordon warned. "He will have no mercy when he catches you."

Betsy's youthful face contorted in a crinkled horror, silencing her for an instant. She soon found her tongue though as she inched back toward the doorway. "Then let him do his worst, but I am not staying one more minute!"

With that, she lifted her robe and night gown slightly as she walked through the door. Miss Burwell was soon halted by a strong arm grabbing her. Indeed Captain Bordon took hold of the girl firmly and pulled her back into the ballroom.

"I am not going to let you traipse into the countryside and get hurt," he asserted.

"Let go of me!," she growled as she tried to pull free of him. "I won't stay!"

"Don't you understand," he gasped as he fought to subdue the youth, "that you're safer here as a prisoner with some protection than you are out there?"

"No!", Betsy cried, struggling crazily to pull away from the officer.

But the captain quickly over powered the girl with superb strength, soon grabbing her other arm. She fought against him as best as she could but couldn't pull away, crying out all the while how she was determined to get to Colonel Burwell.

Hugh pulled the struggling girl tightly to him as she pounded on his arms and chest, still wriggling and fighting to get away from him. She felt him crushing her to his body and wanted nothing more than to flee this man; flee her farm.

After another moment of struggling, the girl tired, then stumbled and fell to her knees at his feet. Her body doubling up, she began to cry pitifully.

"I want my father. I want my father", she wailed.

Bordon stood there, looking down at the crumpled heap of a girl lying at his feet. Feeling badly for the young lady, he reached down, grasped her upper arms strongly and pulled her back up to her feet. The officer encircled the girl in his arms, holding her firmly against his chest. Once there, she buried her face in her hands, and rested herself against him, too tired to resist.

He looked down at the mass of sandy waves of hair tussled about obscuring her face, hidden in her hands as she cried into them against his chest. It wasn't hard for him to find words of comfort for the youngster.

"There there," he whispered as he held her. "This is all exhaustion and nerves."

"I want papa," she blubbered.

"Of course you do," he cajoled softly. "You're tired. You've had so much heaped on you in such a short time. And a war raging about us doesn't help things."

The girl shook and wept against him, still murmuring that she wanted her father. Hugh went on trying to console the girl. "You are doing a fine job of running this plantation though you don't want to. And you have people about you to help."

"This war will end," the man comforted. "It won't last forever. You are doing what you need to do to survive. Your father will understand that."

Her weeping seemed to let up a bit. But just as she seemed to have calmed, then she heaved into another great fit of cries.

"I want to be with father," she sobbed, muffled into her hands.

He closed his eyes as Miss Burwell still pined for her papa. Afraid that she would run away still after this crying jag stopped, he quickly sought some more words of comfort and perhaps some advise—anything to calm the girl and keep her from doing something foolhardy.

His hands went to her upper arms, rubbing them strongly in a soothing gesture up and down them, as if warming the girl from the cold. "You saw your father's letter weeks ago," he reminded softly. "You wouldn't be with him. He would send you away someplace else for safety. At least you are here in your home surrounded by servants who care for you."

"No, no," she wept. "Papa." Her heart beat hard in her chest and nearly up into her throat, her own sobs threatening to choke her. Indeed Betsy felt despair at her situation and wanted the assured protection of her father.

"Sh, sh," the captain hushed her softly. The girl wept softly, her body still shaking in his arms, against the quiet of the night.

"Well, well," a male voice shouted, piercing the dark.

Captain Bordon, with the girl still in his arms, looked up at the sudden intrusion. Betsy, after another quiet sob, looked up as well to face the direction of the voice. Her face was red and swollen from crying. Both were startled to see Mr. Waldron standing at the door of the assembly room.

Before the redcoat officer and the girl could say anything, the farm overseer stepped into the room. "I wondered how long it would be before one of you lobsters took advantage of the goodly women here!"

Mrs. Leyanova appeared almost as fast, holding a candlestick before her, looking in at the captain and her own young plantation mistress. The housekeeper's eyes widened to see the girl in the arms of the dragoon aide de camp.

Colonel Tavington then appeared in the doorway, pushing past the Russian housemaid to make his way into the room. The shouts from the midst of the girl's fit had awoken the, bringing them to the ballroom to see what was the matter.

"What?" Betsy asked in a confused stupor.

"This is not as it seems," Hugh Bordon objected as he pulled away from the young lady. "The girl was upset."

"She will be consoled by one of us," Waldron snapped back, making it clear that the overseer didn't appreciate redcoats handling the pain of Miss Burwell's adolescence.

"It is part of my duty to see after her well being," the officer countered.

Tavington stood back, watching the situation. He held his tongue, looking on as his adjutant effectively pled his case.

"Is it part of your duty to make advances on the young woman?" the farmhand asked.

"Woman?" Captain Bordon shot back. "She is nothing more than a girl. Just because she is of marrying age and may be promised to some rebel officer doesn't make her a grown woman. On the contrary, she's a distraught child."

"Yes and whose fault is that?" Waldron queried sarcastically.

"The War," Bordon answered flatly.

"You Lobster backs are to blame!" Jake Waldron shot back, beginning to inch toward Miss Burwell.

"Not entirely," the captain countered. "Colonel Burwell is just as much to blame!"

Betsy was now standing between the two men, 10 feet of difference betwixt the two. The confrontation had left the girl stunned and silent, unable to answer their anger. She loved and trusted Mr. Waldron, whom had been her father's trusted friend since the day she was born. On the other hand, Miss Burwell had grown to trust the captain, who had protected her and treated her fairly. She could not admit that to herself, and the fact that she was growing fond of the dragoon officer, as well.

"For defending us against you?" the farmhand called back.

Hugh took a step closer to the rebel overseer. "Yes!", he replied. "And for running off on this damned fool cause that you all insist on, leaving the farm in the hands of a girl." His arm extended out, pointing at Miss Burwell as if she was an exhibit in a courtroom before a jury.

"How dare you accuse Harry Burwell!" Waldron stomped toward the redcoat captain. Mrs. Leyanova gasped audibly, twisting the side of her robe nervously in her fingers.

Colonel Tavington stood there, still having said nothing, just watching. He smiled inwardly, always glad to challenge a rebel about anything. Captain Bordon may as well have been acting in a play that William was enjoying.

"How dare you assume my intentions toward that child," he rebutted, pointing again at Betsy, "are less than honorable!"

"Don't think we haven't heard the rumors," Jake informed. "The way you dragoons conduct your…duty….is all over the countryside." His mind flashed to a night not so long ago, when Tavington's legion was riding up their lane, and he warned Betsy then that these men did not have a good reputation.

The men were so close to each other now that one more step and Betsy Burwell would be crushed between them. She worried that one or the other would momentarily challenge a duel. The wanted neither of these men's blood on her hands.

The girl put her arms out, as if her girlish body could hold either of the bruins back, and spoke. "Mr. Waldron, please," she begged, "I assure you that Captain Bordon was never less than a gentleman to me."

Both men kept their guard up, yet took the opportunity to take a quick breath. The girl went on. "Indeed all of this is my fault. I was having a fit, and my actions woke everyone. The captain did his best to keep me calm. I was frustrated and upset, but I am better now. I'm sorry."

Waldron was suspicious still. He wondered if the girl was so intimidated by the dragoons that she would dare not accuse them lest she be punished. The farmhand could not accept her explanation, for he trusted his sight.

"I saw you with my own eyes," he reminded. "He was taking advantage of you in your time of despair."

"I assure you, that was not it," Bordon repeated, his anger at the accusation against him and having to assert his innocence wearing his patience thin. "I do have a care for our prisoners, that they are treated well. Especially the children, who are often the innocent victims of this war."

"Hmph. You wear your diplomacy well," Waldron charged sarcastically. "You speak a well rehearsed speech!"

William became angry at the ongoing accusations and finally spoke up. "Mr. Waldron, if my subaltern says it was innocent, then it was. He is a most honorable officer and a man of his word."

Jake took a breath and stepped backward, his rigid body letting down a bit. He was not about to challenge the officer that nearly executed him in town just weeks before. With that, he took Miss Burwell gently by the wrist and moved her toward himself and Mrs. Leyanova. The housekeeper put her arm around the girl's shoulders and led her toward the door, following Mr. Waldron.

Betsy looked back at the two dragoons left behind in the dining room. The colonel was glaring at her. And the captain's eyes were fixed on Mr. Waldron, his exasperation still showing. Bordon's eyes glanced back at the girl, who was looking sorrowfully at him.

The girl felt badly that she has caused an accusation up an officer that had helped her and treated her well, and whether she knew it or not, had begun to trust. "I'm sorry," she mouthed.

Bordon nodded, acknowledging her silent words. As the trio of rebels disappeared, the clinking the crystal carafe got his attention. He turned to find his superior pouring a glass of wine. Tavington offered the glass to Bordon, who graciously took it. William filled another glass, and both men drained the fermented juice nearly as quickly as the colonel had poured it.

"Thank you, sir," Hugh said as he put his empty glass on the table.

Instead of a gracious acknowledgement, the senior officer answered with a thinly disguised reprimand. "Comforting the prisoners now, are you?"

"She was upset," explained the second in command. "She was going to run away to her father's camp. I stopped her."

Tavington gave his adjutant a cockeyed look. His lips curled into a crooked smile, which told Bordon that William was enjoying watching him squirm under scrutiny. But his commander's eyes seemed to burrow into him, making Hugh feel as if he was in trouble.

"You did charge me with her care," Bordon reminded, still defending himself.

"Because you are such a good diplomat," Tavington answered with a tinge of teasing.

With that, William turned and walked toward the door. Once there, he stopped in the doorway, and without turning his head, said "A word, Captain."

Bordon held his breath, trying to figure out why he might be in trouble. He followed the colonel out the door, down the breezeway steps, and across the lawn. The grass was lukewarm as it shed the heat of the former day as they walked through the yard. After a moment, they ended up at the well.

Bordon watched silently as his commander drew a bucket of water. Setting it on the ledge, Tavington dipped his hands into it and splashed his face and neck. Bordon followed suit, and the two, billowy white shirts over black breeches and bare feet, hair down, cast casual silhouettes by the stone encircling the cistern.

"Bordon, if you want to fuck the Burwell girl, just cease the slow seduction and have at it!"

The captain was momentarily stunned at the crude comment. Then he sighed, wondering why he had been so taken aback at another of his commander's dry remarks that he and Colonel Tarleton could blatantly reel off to whatever male happened to be standing near.

"Sir?" he answered in an obligatory, ignorant tone.

"Your innocence is so convincing," William smirked.

"It was an innocent situation," Bordon asserted, now privy to where his superior's thoughts were.

"Come now, captain," teased the colonel, "She is a beautiful girl, though lacking some of those womanly curves, but she possesses that thing that all men want…virginity."

Tavington took the pail in his hands and poured the water remaining within over his head. He sluiced the fluid out of his dark locks as Bordon spoke.

"That is always a temptation, sir," Hugh agreed with a snide smile.

"Indeed it would be a coup," Tavington began, "for some British soldier to steal her virtue and send her to her traitor officer spoilt!"

Both men laughed at the thought of the rebel Major Clark, who of late, was causing so much trouble for the Crown out on the frontier, finding out on his wedding night that a redcoat had gotten to her virginal fruit first. Both knew that it would dishearten and alarm her father, Colonel Burwell, as much.

"Bedding the wenches always makes their lips a bit loose," Tavington said. "Spilling secrets between moans of pleasure." Both men laughed at the comment.

"I heard about what transpired at the Drakespar plantation the other evening," Tavington uttered.

Bordon drew in a quick breath, wondering how much trouble he was in for raping one of the servants. Rape was punishable by flogging, or even hanging, yet he'd seen his own commander, and Colonel Tarleton as well, force themselves on both rebel and loyalist women upon occasion.

Hugh urgently began to explain. "Sir, I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize, captain," Tavington interrupted. "I'm not mad. I know that you do what you feel you need to in order to obtain information…or intimidate. You are one of the best intelligence agents in His Majesty's army."

"Thank you, sir," Bordon replied, relieved.

The two officers turned from the well and sauntered in the darkness back toward the house. The captain was glad that he wasn't in trouble for the same thing his own superior and other commanders were known to do. After a moment of walking in silence, Hugh asked another question.

"Who told?" He was hoping the colonel would divulge which of the men had a slack jaw and turned him in.

"No one. Do you doubt the loyalty of our men?" Colonel Tavington had to remind him that they often chose men as ruthless as them when recruiting dragoons.

William continued. "Apparently Mrs. Selton returned the day after your raid. She sent a letter of complaint to General O'Hara stating that one of her servants had been assaulted. The maid's father sent a letter to that effect, as well."

They neared the house, where they stopped, out of earshot of any open windows. "Of course, the general wasn't happy about it and I denied the conduct. But the job of intimidation and intelligence gathering is getting done, as well as the winning of battles, so our gentlemanly commander didn't complain too much."

"As long as we fight and conduct our duty as gentlemen," Bordon added in a singsong manner.

"Yes. And as long as it is someone else besides the generals getting their hands dirty," Tavington concluded. "I'm sure they will continue to turn a blind eye."

With that, Captain Bordon and Colonel Tavington bid goodnight to each other. As the captain climbed the stairway to his room, thoughts of his carnal episode with the Selton housemaid, as well as getting caught in an innocent, though what looked like a compromising situation with Miss Burwell hounded his mind. He fell asleep that night with a lover's ache in his groin.