A royal baby on the way...

[Defiance]

"What?!?" James said, eyebrows going up. It seemed as if his brother had just as much news as he did!

 

"Indeed, can you believe it?" The King chuckled in a bit of disbelief himself.

 

"No!" James replied, still mystified.

 

"Oh, I assure you, dear brother, yes." A smirk.

 

Yes, the situation that seemed to be between Lady Oakham, Lord Basildon, and his own mistress seemed to go deeper than James had thought. Although, it did make some sense. Why else would Basildon stick himself out to be an advocate? No, even James realized Basildon was too crafty, and James was quite aware of the lord's former reputation. So Lady Oakham was that desired?

 

Basildon you crafty dog, I knew you could not have changed that much! James mused.

 

"And it would seem the earl wishes to control that office, too. Why else would he be so very concerned with how it is dispensed or settled and who ends up with it?" James was not entirely stupid; although, in this case he might think wrong that Basildon really wished to control that office.

 

"Ack," the King waved it off, "Nevermind that." Charles had been drinking and up late the night before, laughing with Buckingham and his cousin, and he did not have much desire to spend his morning talking about politics. "You said you had news?"

 

A highly pleased smirk came over James' face, and he nodded, raising his eyebrow imperiously and puffing out his chest.

 

"Well at least one of us can yet father children," the heir and younger brother declared.

 

And up went the King's eyebrow, and up, and up as his mind ran through the facts of that scenario in no time at all.

 

"The Lady O'Roarke is with child," James added, proudly.

 

"Truly?" Charles asked, buying himself a moment.

 

"Very."

 

"Congratulations," the King replied, raising his glass in salute. "Well done." Who was he to say a thing about bastards. It seemed to be the only sons the two brothers could sire. It seemed to be the only children the King could sire. Children out of wedlock. How it had been on his mind lately. Chiefly Monmouth but not only. In faith, not even George had been able to sire a legitimate child. For all they had endured, Charles hoped it would not all be for nothing, with nobody to take the next torch after their generation. He sighed and then cleared his throat as if to clear his sudden melancholy thereby.

 

"I should think you would be pleased," the brother ground in, "Is it not good to know that I might yet be able to have 2 or 3 sons?"

 

Not particularly, but thank God I will be gone then...

 

"Well, then Father's sacrifice would not have been for nothing," Charles replied, with a bit of a snip. He suddenly felt the desire to bed the Queen, repeatedly. Then perhaps one of his mistresses as well. He could not allow James to think to show him up with this! Charles was known as the (literal) father of his people for good reason, and he rather liked that title.