He said, 'I shall send word by the first available courier brig. When I reach America I shall probably be required to return home immediately.'

He felt her arm stiffen against his and despised himself for giving her hope.

Admiral Sheaffe had left him in doubt that the mission was important. To sail for Boston, 'neutral ground", as he had called it, and there meet French and American officials to formalize the handing over of an island as part of the agreement made under the Peace of Amiens.

It all seemed wrong to Bolitho. To hand back an island to the old enemy which had been won with British blood. He had blurted out as much to Admiral Sheaffe. 'We gained a peace, Sir Hayward, we did not lose the war!'

Perhaps in that cool Admiralty room it had sounded childish.

Sheaffe had replied calmly, 'And we do not wish you to provoke a war either, sir!'

As if to finalize the moment of departure, one of the horses stamped its hoof on the cobbles.

Bolitho kissed her hard on the mouth and tasted the salt of her tears.

'I shall return, Belinda.'

Very gently they prised themselves apart and Bolitho walked down the worn steps to the waiting carriage.

Allday was standing with a groom, but Bolitho gestured to the open door.

'Ride with me, Allday.'

He turned and glanced back at her. Against the grey stone she looked strangely vulnerable and he wanted to hold her just once more.

The next instant he was in the carriage and the wheels were clattering over the cobbles and through the gates.

It was done.

Allday sat with his fingers clasped and watched Bolitho's grave features and tried to measure the depth of his mood. Seven months ashore seemed a lifetime to Allday, although he knew better than to suggest as much to Bolitho.