“I have been thinking about what happened, and I am amazed that your instinct told you so accurately that that stranger was an assassin. How can this be?”
“I know not. It has never happened to me before. All I can assume is that for a moment I was blessed with second sight,” I said.
“Well. Thank all that is holy that you did, for without a doubt, the Duke would have been shot had you not done so.”
We held each other for a long time, and finally, under my tender ministrations, he mounted me and made love to me in a very kind and gentle way. We slept, and as I drifted off, I wondered what the future held.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Unexpected.
The year passed, and I enjoyed Paris. Napoleon was banished to Elba, and Roger found himself in the Duke’s circle of aides. Our home was frequented more and more by the rich and powerful, but our limited income was in danger of being sucked dry.
His Grace the Duke of Wellington came to our rescue, and we found ourselves the beneficiaries of funding through the General Staff. We were able to take on more staff, and I found myself employing a new teacher for Katie.
She was so bright, that I knew she had passed beyond my limited scope. However, a young Englishman offered his services. He was the son of one of Wellington’s senior officers, who had died at Salamanca in Spain, just prior to Wellington occupying Madrid. Thus the boy was somewhat disinclined to become a soldier, and was searching for a teaching post with an English family. His name was Raymond Spurway, and he was a delightful young man of some nineteen years. He wished to go to Oxford, but lacked the funds, and so was hoping to work for a year so, to enable him to fulfil his dream.
Katie took to Raymond immediately. She was becoming a real flirt, so at nine, already knew how to twist men around her little finger. Initially, she always explained to anyone who cared to listen that I was not her real mother, but latterly, she no longer bothered to correct the assumption that I was indeed her mother. I think she became proud of me, being happy to acknowledge me as her mother.
Our second Christmas together was in Paris in 1814, and I was feeling concerned as I had now missed two periods. This was unusual, but due to being told that I could never conceive, I had not put a great deal of thought at missing the first. However, missing the second made me think carefully about things.
Christmas day was a gay affair, and I use the word in the old original sense. The house was full of young officers and their sweethearts and wives. Even the Duke dropped in for a glass or two before going to dine with some French royalty.
We allowed Katie to stay up and greet the dinner guests, and she pushed it to nearly nine o’clock. She had had a wonderful Christmas, and when I tucked her into bed and asked her what her favourite bit was, she had astounded me with her answer.
“When we took those parcels of food and clothes to the soldiers in their hospital.”
I had taken Katie with me, along with several other officers’ wives, and we had visited the wounded soldiers in their hospital just on the outskirts of Paris. We had supplied them with food and sweets that we had clubbed together and bought. We had also managed to acquire items of warm clothing sent from England, and found grateful recipients for everything.
I smiled, and she grinned at me.
“You see, I remembered that giving is so much better than receiving. But receiving is nice as well,” she said, referring to the pretty new dress that I had bought for her.
I kissed her good night, and Roger had been standing at the door again. He had an annoying habit of creeping up on me like that.
He gave his daughter a hug, and then took me in his arms after we had shut her door.
“I am so blessed in finding you,” he said.
“Forgive me, but I thought I found you?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Of course, but I will never let you get away with anything,” I said, and he kissed me.
“Jane, why are you so delightful?”
“Because I have a delightful husband and family.”
We went down and saw to our guests, and the party went on to the early hours.
When we finally went to bed, I snuggled up to my husband, and put my arm around his tummy.
“Roger?”
“My love?”
“I have missed two periods.”
“You mean you are pregnant?” he asked, a tremor in his voice.
“I don’t know, but it is possible.”
He hugged me, almost crushing the wind out of me.
“Oh, my darling one, is it what you want?”
“Above everything else,” I answered, quite truthfully.
“Then we shall pray that you are,” he said, and cradled me in his arms.
I was in the mood for far more energetic activity, and stroked his cock until it was nice and hard. I then kissed my way down until I took him in my mouth, tasting the salty trickle of anticipation that seeped from the end. When I had him moaning with pleasure, I turned onto my tummy and asked him to fuck me from behind.
I felt him slide into my very wet hole, so he pounded into me with growing energy. He grabbed my breasts and I came again and again, until he rolled onto his back, and I sat astride him as he had grown to love. I rode him hard, while he licked and sucked my nipples until I flooded him with my orgasmic juices, and he finally shot his bolt deep within me.
Then he pushed me onto my back, and proceeded to lick my clitoris with his tongue, and I lost count of how many times I came. I moaned and had to beg him to stop, but by this time he was hard again, and entered me for a second instalment. He fucked me very hard and fast, until we were both bathed in sweat and each other’s juices. I felt animalistic and very carnal, and I licked his limp cock enjoying the mixed flavours of his semen and my wetness.
“My God! Jane, what do you do to me?”
“What you deserve,” I said, as we kissed.
We finally slept, totally sated once again.
I was pregnant.
The enormity of the fact dawned as I felt my swelling abdomen. It was not possible. They told me that it had never happened. However, that was different to not being able to happen, it just had never happened.
It had now, and my body was telling me all about it. By April, I was enormous, and my breasts were expanding and tender. There was no doubt at all. The baby was due in July 1815, and I knew that the battle of Waterloo would be on the 18th June. I wondered whether the poor little mite would have a father.
Roger was ecstatic, insisting that I take everything easy. I lost my temper with him, and informed him that I was a darn site more substantial than most women he knew. Then I instantly regretted it, and did as he told me, almost.
Katie became very bossy, wanting to know whether I was giving her a sister or a brother.
However, the real surprise was yet to come.
I was sewing in the small sitting room, one rainy afternoon in late April. I heard sounds at the front door, but paid little heed, as the house was like the Piccadilly Circus most days. If it were anyone important, then Groves would deal.
It was Roger, and he came bounding into the room, with a huge grin on his face. He was so obviously pleased with himself, that I was instantly wary.
“You will never guess who I bumped into this morning!”
“You are quite correct, my dear, I will never guess,” I said, and he waved to someone to enter.
A tall man, in his late twenties, entered. He was clean-shaven and was dressed in a naval uniform, with the rank of Lieutenant.
“Your cousin James, James Chauncey!” said Roger.
I stared at this complete stranger, and froze with a smile on my face. My heart was beating, while my brain was in a whirl.