It was a much better prison than the sort Jocelyn had imagined: not a dank cell, but a sun-filled room. But it was still confinement. The windows were so high he could not see out. The door was kept locked. Meals were brought, but no conversation offered.
It felt like death. He would prefer death, he thought, to this endless waiting. But he was a navy man through and through. Whatever his superiors demanded of him, he would do.
His mind turned to Kate and the child. She would be in Wales by now. He wished her Godspeed, and good health. He hoped someone would tell him when – and if – the child was born safely.
On the fourth morning, the door opened. It was Beaseley.
“Sir.” Jocelyn rose.
“Captain Avebury.” Beaseley looked over his shoulder at the guard on duty, and dismissed him with a
