Free Breaking the Line by David Donachie

influenced.’
    ‘The word “unduly” sits ill, Tom.’
    Nelson’s face had stiffened. But Troubridge had crossed a point where telling what he perceived to be the truth outweighed his sensibility to his commander’s feelings. Old friend or not – hero or not – Nelson had to be told.
    ‘You are seen, sir, to care more for our comfort than your duty to your King, more for the charms of Lady Hamilton than the defeat of the enemy. Do you not know that Lord Keith complains about you constantly to London? You are rightly admired, but I fear that you are dissipating that in the arms of a wholly unsuitable woman.’
    ‘You will have a care, Tom,’ said Nelson sharply. ‘Do not assume that the liberties I allow you as an old friend apply to Lady Hamilton.’
    ‘What of her reputation?’
    ‘I will not deny she has one. But I would remind you that I was born the son of a far from wealthy parson. Nothing in my background gives me the right to sit here. I am in this place because of my ownefforts to raise myself, that and the outstanding abilities of my officers and sailors.’
    Nelson softened his voice. ‘We all have a past, Tom, even you. Do you not lie awake at night sometimes, remembering an action of yours that brings a feeling of shame? Yet often what you recall was done in ignorance, caused by circumstance not malice. For that reason you can ask God for forgiveness. We do not, any of us, choose the course of our life. All we can pray for is that on Judgement Day the scales will tip away from damnation towards salvation.’
    Troubridge was torn between trotting out a truth that would wound his old friend deeply, that Nelson was becoming a laughing stock, and staying silent. He would have avoided such an entanglement like the plague. Emma Hamilton had an engaging sense of fun, a lively intelligence and a fading beauty. He had even written to her to warn her that she had enemies. But she had manifest flaws, to Troubridge’s mind, that totally outweighed her assets, the greatest that she lacked any notion of what constituted a sense of virtue.
    Nelson could not see this because he was blinded to it, but she flirted with every one of his officers. Some would call it innocent: Troubridge saw it as an insidious attempt to command them as she commanded her lover. She drank too much and then what little self-control she had evaporated. The card games at the Hamilton villa had become notorious: Emma flinging money, usually Nelson’s, around with abandon, losing regularly and laughing as she dragged her exhausted paramour, who had been yawning for hours, off to their shared bedchamber. Troubridge also felt that what happened behind closed doors between her and Nelson did little to aid clear thinking in the man he loved and esteemed.
    And then there was her husband, smiling, telling jokes and anecdotes, ever the superb host, unconcerned that another man was rogering his wife. He could say all of this or nothing. He felt that what he did say was feeble in the extreme. ‘Will you consider what I have said?’
    ‘Yes, Tom, I will,’ Nelson replied.
    Both knew he would not.
     
    Sir William had settled into a limbo, curious about the way he had taken to observing the two lovers, almost as if he was not involved. That Emma showed him respect in public was gratifying, but he worried that this did not extend too far into the evening. Too much wine made her tease people: it was uncomfortable to realise that he occasionally became the butt of her jokes.
    Sir William’s ambassadorial cares had multiplied since the arrival of Charles Lock, who sought to undermine his authority and gave what he called advice that sounded more like commands. The man’s ineptitude was astounding. Presenting his papers as British Consul, Charles Lock had seen fit to lecture Ferdinand and Maria Carolina on the gratitude and duty they owed to England. That it was true did not make it a proper thing to say to reigning monarchs, who, discovering that he