The Spy Wore Petticoats

"Milord still seems troubled?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that your words have started me thinking again of my sons."

"Your sons?"

"Yes. Both are good boys and shall make fine men, but they lack..."

"A mother's influence?" Charlotte finished for him.

"In a way, yes. I wish them to be educated and prepared to take up my offices. Most of all, I wish them to be prepared to defend mother Russia, but there are tools they need I cannot provide."

"You are speaking of an education, yes?"

"Yes. They must not be taken in by foreigners and their ways, but...I find myself fond of you and I am prepared."

"I see," Charlotte said, her mind working quickly.

"I should go, I have many duties to attend to this morning," he said, glancing towards the door.

"Milord, my man Gustav has a very good classical education. He's of the lower classes, so obviously not concerned with politics. If anything, he is a scholar. I believe he could give your sons tutoring in languages and history without imparting any unsavory political ideas."

"Truly? I shall consider it. Good day, milady," he said.

When he had left Charlotte resumed her reading. After three weeks here, she had made important contacts and inroads to the circle of men surrounding the Tsarina. The most challenging problem was the xenophobia of those advisors and the Russians in general. She had charmed her way into the confidence of two of them, but they were not the real powers that it would take to arrange a private meeting with Elizabeth.

Strangely, her friendship with Ivanna was proving to be the most promising avenue. The young woman was one of the Tsarina's ladies in waiting. It was an avenue she planned to pursue, but she was taking her time with it. Having a girlfriend was something new, and Charlotte was feeling out the parameters of such friendships.

If she could get Gustav into the duke's household, the manservant's observations could be very helpful guides in how to approach the duke. She also fancied he had an interest in Ivanna. If so, his observation of her might be even more instructive.

Her relationship with Victor had grown and deepened with breathtaking swiftness. On this gray day, that relationship occupied her thoughts more than anything else. They saw each other almost every evening, and only last night, he had been so bold as to kiss her. And what a kiss! Deep, passionate, filled with longing. She could still remember every thing about it. The flowers, the taste of his lips, the smells of the dinner they had just finished.

He wanted more and she wanted to give him more, but she found his company so wonderful that she was in acute fear that he would want that which she couldn't give. And it was that fear which had kept her from being more forward with him.

She tried to put Victor out of her mind and come to grips with a more immediate problem. She had not escaped the conspiracy against her and the conspirators were becoming desperate. A series of "accidents" had occurred around her, accidents that seemed to have intent. It had started with a heavy masonry block falling at her feet while she was visiting Victor at the ministry. Later, the small man had saved her life by shoving her out of the way as a coach careened towards her as they were taking a stroll.

While staying at the Orlov's villa, she had felt ill and so hadn't taken her dinner with the family. Food was delivered to her room, but she had not been able to eat and had asked Madame Deveraou to take the food out to the stables, where she knew the servants were having a thin time of it. Both had become extremely ill and it was her belief that someone had poisoned the food.

Charlotte had taken to carrying her pistol again, even though she was no longer on the road. She had also had Gustav bring her saber in and she had secreted it under her mattress. Just having it close to hand gave her some comfort.

The evening passed slowly and Charlotte was almost done with her book when Madame Deveraou came in to help her prepare for dinner. She was no closer to knowing who was plotting against her or why. And she was no closer to an idea of how much to tell Victor, how much she dared reveal to him. At least she was closer to her goal of having the duke or his daughter arrange a private audience with the Tsarina, if only a little closer.

She was distracted as she dressed and almost forgot her fan as she was leaving. Charlotte took a carriage to the ministry to meet Victor. He was working late again, and so she sent the driver back, expecting she might have to wait a long while as she had the last two nights.

She was pleasantly surprised when he rushed out and wrapped her up in a big hug as soon as she arrived.

"It's so good to see you," he enthused.

"Likewise, I was expecting another long wait," she said with a coquettish smile.

"No, since last night I have been in an agony missing you. Tonight we shall not spend a moment apart," he said.

Charlotte wondered if there was a double meaning there. She wished again that she had the courage to just be honest with him. Instead, she took his proffered arm and together they started to stroll along the street towards the palace grounds. The lights of the ministry were still visible when four men suddenly surrounded the couple.

Swords glittered in the weak light and Victor drew his rapier while pushing Charlotte behind him and against a wall with his other hand.

"Give way marshal, we wish you no harm," one said.

"Yes, don't be a fool. Why throw your life away protecting her?" another said.

"The first one of you who tries to harm a hair on her head, I shall run you through," Victor said.

Charlotte was scared, more for Victor than herself. These men were not amateurs; they held their blades like they were accustomed to using them. They spread out in an attempt to box Victor in. She knew what he should do. He should close quickly on one of them and dispatch him before his comrades could come to his aide. To do so, he would have to leave her unprotected, however, and it was clear he had no intention of doing that.

Charlotte watched helplessly as the three of them launched a series of attacks. Victor was a fine swordsman, and he managed to defend himself again and again, but they were wearing him down while keeping their distance. They were obviously trying to bait him into attacking one of them, thus allowing the others to attack her.

She saw one close on his back and her hand went automatically to her side, to where her sword should have been. The helpless feeling she felt was amplified when she clawed for her pistol. She knew she could never get it out in time.

Charlotte noticed then that the fourth assailant wasn't taking part. He stood well back in the shadows, wrapped in a voluminous cape that served to obscure his outline. She could tell only that he was a huge man, perhaps as tall as Ivan and even broader. Strange how time seemed to slow and she could make such observations and take the time to deliberate upon them.

Her mind was drawn back to Victor when he groaned. One of them had darted in and driven his blade below the short marshal's guard. He sank to the street, his rapier falling from his fingers and clattering on the stones. They turned on her, apparently thinking to make quick work of it.

Charlotte brought her pistol up and shot the closest one in the chest. Before his stunned compatriots could react she scooped up Victor's blade and assumed a dueling stance.

"Watch him close. Our spy said he was almighty good with a blade," one said.

"I fear no man, least of all a man who would disgrace himself by disguising himself as a woman," the other said haughtily.

Charlotte didn't give them time to say more but launched a series of thrusts and slashes at the smaller one. They had been fighting and had to be winded. She had no intention of allowing them to recover. Nor did she wish to be engaged with these two and have the big one join the battle.

Charlotte thrust, raised her guard to catch his riposte, and spun away to his left, placing him between herself and his companion and warding off his weak attempt to redirect his blade. She went high, with a thrust at his eyes, and ducked beneath his return swing. Crouched already, she lunged with all her strength, driving the rapier past his guard and cleanly through his guts.

In the meantime his companion had moved to take his partner out of line and chose this moment to aim an overhand blow at her head. Charlotte barely managed to withdraw her blade and ward off the blow. It still came perilously close, shaving a lock of hair from her head. Both of them were off balance and scrambled for position. Charlotte recovered first, but had no opening to launch an attack. Her opponent had drawn a dagger and was already set in a defensive stance.

Prudence demanded that she assume the defensive as well. His dagger gave him the advantage. Besides, someone had to have heard the noise and could be coming any moment. But this was the man who had killed Victor, and she intended to kill him.

She feinted to his left, drawing his dagger hand across his body. She followed the feint with a thrust towards his mid section. He easily parried with his sword, but this is exactly what she wished him to do. For a split second his arms were crossed and his guard was low. Charlotte drove her hand forward, driving the guard of her rapier into his face. It landed with a sickening crunch and before he could even scream, she drew back and slashed his throat open.

She heard feet running towards her and whirled, expecting to find the big man charging, but instead she found officers of the ministry. Of the big man in the shadows there was no trace.

Charlotte listened apprehensively as Victor recounted the battle to his chief of staff and several officers. Charlotte had broken down when she looked upon his body, falling to her knees next to him only to hear him laughing.

"I am not done for, my dear," he said as his men clustered around him.

"Indeed not," one of his colleagues said after examining him.

"Will he be all right?" she asked.

"Yes, mam'zelle," the older man said with a smile, "the blade was turned by one of his medals. The skin is torn and he is bruised, but there is nothing there to account for him lying on the street like a common drunk."

The men had helped their marshal to his offices and after cleaning the wound and bandaging it, he set about telling them of it.

"It was then that he struck me. My arm went numb and I couldn't hold my blade. I collapsed, thinking I was done for."

"And then?" a young officer asked.

Victor saw Charlotte starring at him and while his face betrayed nothing, his eyes smiled.

"And then the most amazing thing happened. My lady drew a pistol from her skirts and shot one of them. She then snatched up my blade and disposed of the other two."

"I wasn't aware that French ladies learned fencing," his chief of staff said.

All eyes turned to her and Charlotte did her best to appear unconcerned.

"My father was a soldier. All of his children received instruction in fencing, even I, until I was of such an age that it was no longer seemly."

"Your father must have been very good. The men you killed are both known to be deadly swordsmen. Their treachery will have serious repercussions at court."

"They did not expect me to fight with a blade."

"Nor did they expect you to be carrying a pistol," Victor observed with a smile.

"A lady can never be too careful of her virtue," Charlotte replied.

"Twas not your virtue they sought, but your life," the chief said.

"They were destined to have neither," Charlotte said simply.

"Quite so," Victor exclaimed loudly, before turning to his chief of staff.

"See to it that the guard at the palace is doubled. It could have just been a plot on my life, but it could also be the first act in a coup attempt. Make sure the guard are out and her majesty is protected."

"And for you and your lady?"

"Call for my carriage. I will go home and rest."

"Should I send a detachment with you, to guard your home?"

"I suppose you should, though I hate being guarded like a woman," the short marshal said.

"It shall be done."

They rode in silence, and not a word was spoken until they were safely in Victor's home. Even then, no word was spoken as he led her to a study and poured her a strong drink and one for himself. Charlotte sipped automatically, barely tasting it. She dreaded what was coming, and even though he had said nothing, she knew he had heard the men.

"It seems, you are preoccupied, my dear. Are you worried perhaps that I overheard those men and their accusations?"

"Yes," she said in a strangled voice.

He put his drink down and caught up her hands in his own. Charlotte looked fearfully into his eyes, but was shocked to see only gentle amusement.

"Dear, sweet Charlotte. I have long known there is more to you than meets the eye. It changes nothing. I love you as much now as I did before my suspicions were so confirmed."

"But..." she began, but he held a finger to her lips.

"When I was young, my friend and I would take turns wearing his sister's clothes and playing the girl. It is not unusual for young men to so experiment, and most leave such games far behind when they are exposed to the real thing. He certainly did, and is now the father of ten children. I, however, found myself torn. While I love the curves and softness of a woman's body, I long for the intelligence and mental stimulation so few of them can afford me. When I began to suspect you were not as you seemed, I must admit, I found the prospect even more intriguing than I found you as a woman. But now I must ask the question I dread," he said.

"I will answer any question you ask, even if the truth should undo me," she said earnestly.

"I know not why you play the maid. I do not care, but I must ask, do you intend my country harm?"

Charlotte looked into his eyes and saw his pain, his uncertainty, and she decided she could not lie to him. Or perhaps, it was more truthful to say, she would not intentionally deceive him again.

"I bear a letter from King Louis, seeking an alliance."

"Long have I hoped for such an alliance, but the Tsarina's nephew is a lover of all things Prussian and he has forestalled my every attempt to urge such a diplomatic mission."

"He has been most successful, then. I am only the latest in many messengers to try."

"Charlotte, have you been playing me for a fool, in a game of intrigue? Have all of your responses been merely ploys?"

"I did not begin with the intent to fall in love with you, Victor. In truth, I did not think myself capable of such a thing. But I have. Never once have I been false, I swear it to you."

His eyes searched hers, but she returned his gaze without flinching. The fight and his obvious pain at the thought of her using him had done what hours of rationalization could not. It had forced her to come to grips with the fact that she was in love. She was and she did not care what came next, but she would not hurt this man. Recrimination, fear, humiliation, shame, all of it be damned. She found the acceptance of it to be a relief, as if she had been fighting nature rather than fighting something unnatural.

"I believe you, my love. Now we must decide what to do about it."

"Do? What can we do? I know not about you, but I have no control over this. I have wanted you since you kissed me and I want you still."

"And I want you," he said, smiling gently.

Their eyes locked as his face slowly came closer to hers. At the last moment, Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed a contented little sigh when their lips met. His lips were hard, but his tongue was soft and gentle as it tenderly explored her mouth. She felt all fluttery inside and shivered when his hands caressed her arms.

When the kiss broke he smiled and took her hand, leading her up the stairs to his bedroom. The bed was large and had a snow white comforter on it. She knew he was hoping to continue their exploration reclining upon the bed. He was, it was apparent to her, embarrassed by the height differential. Not wanting to cause him further embarrassment she made no protest as he led her to the bed and gently lowered her to it.

His body now lay upon hers and she thrilled at his weight, at the hardness of his lean body, at the heat she could feel. His lips found her throat and soon he was licking and kissing his way up her neck, towards her ear. By the time he breathed softly on her ear, Charlotte was trembling.

"Do not be afraid," he whispered, before tonguing her ear.

"I fear only what will happen to my body if you stop," she moaned.

His hands gently fondled her breasts and she arched her back, becoming frustrated quickly at the layers of clothing between them. Unlike Gustav, he seemed to find the ties on her dress a mystery, and she became all the more frustrated as he fumbled with them.

"I will be damned if I know what I am doing," he said with a chuckle when her impatience became obvious.

Charlotte found that admission amusing, and together they managed to divest her of her dress. The petticoats, panniers, and chemise gave way easily, as if her clothing was as impatient as she was. She wished to keep her corset on, but allowed him to loosen the laces enough to make baring her breasts practical.

Charlotte helped him with his boots and his tunic. She watched in anticipation as he removed his breeches. She was delighted when his cock sprang free. Considering his size, she had assumed he might be hung like Doctor Schneider. Not that she would have cared if he had been. Instead she found he was large and thick, easily as well endowed as most men. She thought of poor Doctor Schneider and what he would say to God having compensated Victor for his short stature. Charlotte suddenly giggled. Victor looked at her, with confusion and hurt on his face.

"Do not be offended, I was only thinking that God decided to make up for you lack of height in the most wonderful way," she said.

He seemed mollified and she reproached herself. Laughter was never a good idea when a man removed his breeches, she reminded herself.

Charlotte dropped to her knees and grasped the base of his cock, slowly stroking. It jumped under her touch and she found she could just barely close the circle of her fingers upon it. The large, mushroom shaped head was a delicate pink and she swirled her tongue over it experimentally. Victor groaned and his knees went weak.

Charlotte sucked the whole head into her ready mouth and continued to swirl her tongue around the head. The short man stiffened and then fell heavily onto the bed.

"My God," he groaned, lying back, but keeping his head up so he could watch her.

Charlotte looked up at him as she lovingly sucked, stroked and caressed. He watched intently as she slowly took more of it, and his face showed shock when the head pressed past her tonsils and into the tight confines of her throat. She forced herself to relax and closed her eyes as she pushed it deeper, working slowly until her lips felt the prickle of his pubic hair. Charlotte came up for air and slid right back down in a slow and languid sucking that left poor Victor gasping.

"Enough," he called softly, "You must stop lest I embarrass myself."

Charlotte had no intention of stopping. She wanted to taste him, to taste his seed and to make him forget any other partner he had ever had. She redoubled her efforts and soon his hips were jogging uncontrollably. She caressed his balls, feeling them drawing in and tightening. With little warning her mouth was flooded with his spending. She swallowed it happily, enjoying the strong, salty taste that had at first so repelled her.