The Spy Wore Petticoats

"Say no more. I know all I need to. You are the high personage the duke has had me discreetly inquiring after?"

"Just so."

Charles was glad to know his letters had made it. Another victory to tell Julia about. The coach came to a halt and both men dismounted. They were on a small wharf, where a sharp little schooner was tied up.

"Michel, rouse the captain," the ambassador said.

He turned to Charles and bowed.

"I should not be seen here. Good fortune to you," he said before climbing back into the coach.

Charles went down and up the gang plank. As soon as the ship was underway, he curled up and slept on the open deck as the wind in the sails lulled him to sleep.

Their crossing was swift and they arrived in Calais in the evening. Charles commandeered a horse and rode for Paris.

He arrived in the evening, going directly to the duke's home. He was admitted to the duke's private study and soon, the great man himself arrived.

"De Locke. I am surprised to see you. I hope you have good cause to appear before me so dressed."

Charles didn't reply. He took off his cloak and his shirt, only then removing the heavy brocade stays he had been wearing since he fled the Russian court.

"Have you a blade?" he inquired.

The duke passed him a dagger off his desk and Charles carefully slit the lining open where he had so laboriously sewed it back up. He retrieved the letter from Elizabeth he had secreted within them and handed it to the duke. The parchment was still in good condition, the great seal of the Tsars still visible in the red wax seal.

De Fleury stared at him and tore open the letter. He read it quickly and then laughed out loud.

"Go home, De Locke. I have much to do. I will call upon you when it is expedient to do so."

"I suppose you are here for your reward?" the duke asked.

"If you please," Charles said, bowing stiffly.

The duke looked up from his desk for the first time since Charles had been shown in. He opened a small drawer and took out two large pieces of parchment, holding one in each hand. He extended the parchment in his left hand.

"I have here a commission as captain in the King's Dragoons," he said, drawing the parchment back when Charles reached for it.

He extended the parchment in his right hand.

"Here, I have the titles, lands and estates of the De Toberville family, including a fine chateau. There is also a generous 100,000 franc pension from a grateful king and, from myself, a one time grant of half a million francs to purchase all you should need to set yourself up as a lady of the court."

"Half a million francs!" Charles exclaimed.

"Indeed."

"It seems, my lord duke, you have a preference in which reward I choose?" Charles said carefully.

The duke stood and turned his back on his guest, staring out the window and clapping his hands behind his back.

"I have many agents, including several women. Do not get me wrong, for certain missions there is no better agent, but women are inherently treacherous tools. They are ruled by emotion and there is no accounting for whom they might fall in love with. A man who can pass as a woman? That's a rare thing. One who can do so and still has the wits to complete missions of the delicacy which you have? Rarer still, and worth the price."

Charles considered this for along time.

"I appreciate your position, but I must take the commission," he said hesitantly.

"I sense some hesitation on your part," the Duke said turning around.

He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward, staring intently into Charles's eyes. The young man felt a shiver down his spine. He had never seen anyone with such an intense and penetrating glare. He remembered Gustav's words about their being no soul behind those eyes, and he felt his lip begin to tremble.

"I am not able to sweeten the deal much more, but what would it take?"

Charles considered the answer, considered himself and decided to be frank, mostly because he did not believe he could effectively lie under that intense gaze.

"For myself, lord, I could ask nothing more, but I cannot consider just myself."

"Ah, your father?"

"Yes. He's on his death bed. Dr. Chargreave gives him no more than a month or two to live. His son, a captain of the Dragoons, I can make peace with him. I have done nothing, been nothing, and he has been disappointed in me. Even my time in the cavalry was displeasing to him. I can, with one act, erase a lifetime of disappointing him."

"Hmmm. But if that were not a consideration, you would take other offer?"

"I would."

"Well, then what if we reach an agreement?"

"Agreement?"

"I will give you the commission and a three month leave for services rendered to the crown. You may get your uniform, go home and impress your father. Your duties at court will keep you near Paris. When he passes, God rest his soul, you will come here. One of my agents shall continue on to the front in your place and Charles De Locke will be killed in action. Lady De Toberville, meanwhile, will take up residence in her family estate and after a suitable mourning period for her brother whom she could not save, will return to court."

Charles considered it. His head spoke against it, but his heart was sure.

"I accept," he said.

"There is a price, before you agree," he said.

"Name your price," Charles said.

"Only this: when you come here and remove your uniform to don your petticoats, Charles De Locke ceases to exits. You will be Lady De Toberville. Should I ever hear of you appearing as a man again, in public or private, I shall have you thrown in prison."

"I will assume there will be an exception should I need to act as a man while working for you, as on this occasion? I would hate to arrive in Paris with a treaty only to find myself a guest in the king's dungeons."

"Of course. When working for me, anything you have to do is acceptable."

Charles felt his pants, the comforting weight of his saber on his hip, the freedom to breathe. Yet he could still feel his skin come alive when the soft fabric of his corset touched him, the comforting swish of his petticoats, the genuine delight in how pretty he was. The inner debate was brief. He had done nothing in his twenty years as Charles. In two as Charlotte, he had changed the political face of Europe.

"Since you place a condition, I shall too. When my servants and things arrive from Russia, you will see to it they are taken care of until they can take up their positions again. That includes Gustav as my house steward. You will also see to it that my sister is looked after, since she will no longer have a brother for protection."

"Those are strange demands," the duke said in surprise.

"For my own indulgence, I cannot forsake those to whom I have obligations."

"As long as you remember to whom your primary obligation is, I see no problem with that. Your servants can remain here with my household and I have a vested interest in your sister, so I will make sure she doesn't suffer in your absence."

"Very well, then, I accept," Charles said after only a moment's hesitation.

The duke signed his commission and handed it to him.

"Very well then, my lady captain," he added with a sardonic smile.