She came down, and put her hand on his shoulder. “Tell us. I can hardly believe it.”

Avery gazed at his filthy boots. “I was there, Sir Richard. I thought it only right. I know what it is to face the possibility of disgrace and ruin at a court martial.” He repeated, “I thought it was only right. There was heavy snow on the south coast. The telegraph towers were hidden from one another. It might have taken another day for the news to reach you.”

“But you came?” Catherine saw Bolitho grip his arm.

Surprisingly, Avery grinned. “I rode most of the way. I forget how many times I changed horses. Eventually I fell in with the fellow outside, otherwise I doubt I’d have found the place.” He took the glass of cognac, and his hand shook uncontrollably. “Probably cost me a year’s pay, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sit down comfortably for a month!”

Bolitho walked to a window. Honourably acquitted. As it should be. But things did not always end as they should.

Avery finished the cognac and did not protest when Catherine refilled his glass. “Forced a few coaches and carts off the road-” He saw Bolitho’s expression and added gently, “I was not in court, Sir Richard, but he knew I was there. Your nephew was going to see the port admiral. Someone said that he has an extended leave of absence. That is all the information I have.”

Bolitho looked at Catherine, and smiled. “Seventy miles on dark and treacherous roads. What sort of man would do that?”

She removed the glass from Avery’s nerveless fingers as he lolled against the cushions, and was asleep.

She replied quietly, “Your sort of man, Richard. Are you at peace now?”

When they reached the bedroom they could see the river quite clearly, and there were indeed people already moving along the road. It was unlikely that anyone had noticed the sudden arrival of the carriage, or the tall sea officer banging on the door. If they had, they would think little of it. This was Chelsea, a place that minded its own business more than most.