“Harold, although if you are able, it's probably a good thing that you relieve him,” she answered, already going over the lyrics in her head. “The captain's memory is still...gone.”
“That is not a surprise, the way he fell,” Wesley said. “It was so fast and so chaotic and so....”
“So what?” she asked.
“Unexpected,” Wesley replied. “To be honest, everything was a blur. I don't remember even making it down to the cannon room.”
“What are you concerned about?” she put a hand on his, but he shook his head.
“I'll be alright. Do you want to stay here?”
“Preferably not,” she said. “After yesterday's attack, I don't want to leave your side ever again.”
“That is fair,” he took her hand.
“Wesley,” she wanted one more private alone with him. “Wait.”
“Lola?” he turned back to her.
“After all of this...do you still want to remain at sea?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, perplexed. “This was a terrible attack, yes, but it's just...”
“It was better than what you experienced in your life in Ireland,” she finished the sentence for him. “I understand. However, it doesn't have to be like this either.”
“Are you asking me to take a desk job?” he asked.
“I'm just...asking you to consider a career change,” she said. “You don't have to answer me now. Just...think about it.”
“Lola...” he bent down to kiss her. “No matter what, we will be together forever. Even if it's not traditional. But you and I both know the life of Earl and Lady Rippon in Ireland, in a great mansion, is not what we want.”
“I do know that,” she answered. “I just wish there was another option.”
“Maybe there is,” he said. “But we don't know the solution yet. Come on, let's relieve poor Mr. Harper.”
“I take it you are feeling better,” she prompted as they took the stairs.
“We find our strength in the moments we need it the most,” he answered, as he got on deck. Then he gasped. “Oh my.”
The deck was full of men sewing, ripped up dresses, and generally upset ladies. The sail was already mostly repaired, and the patchwork pattern stood out against the blue sky.
“Earl Rippon,” Harold wandered over to him. “How are you?”
“I'm---” Wesley looked up at the sail again. “Well.”
Harold cleared his throat.
“As tactics....did you have a better suggestion?”
“No,” Wesley's eyes flickered up as a smile crossed his face. He couldn't help it. He knew he shouldn't be laughing, they were in dire straits. However, there was nothing else he could do.
To Lola's relief, a smile crossed Harold’s face as well. It had been so long since she had seen any of them smile.
“Good,” Harold replied. “Because if you did have a better one, I'd ask you to keep it to yourself...just to save me from the madness of the ladies.”
“What's this?” Annabelle joined them.
“Lady Bamber,” Harold turned to her, formally. “I'm happy to inform you that our official tactics officer, in charge of creative solutions, agrees with my opinion of using your...petticoats.”
“Oh, good,” Annabelle glanced to Wesley. “This is the thanks I get for the hospitality we provided you”
“Your dress is immortal now,” Wesley replied, as Lola giggled. “Because every reporter in a hundred mile radius is going to be sketching pictures of it when the ship returns to port.”
“At least we can return to port, at this point,” Lola pointed out. “As opposed to starting a new colony not ten miles from the port.”
“Eventually,” Harold admitted “Someone might have come along to tug us. But,” he said, to Annabelle's open mouth. “It's not to say that we wouldn't have been in danger before that.”
“The gamble we took,” Annabelle wasn't truly mad, but she enjoyed teasing Harold. “Was at the expense of my best gown.”
“Maybe I should wear one of the spare uniforms for a costume,” Lola said, and Wesley gaped.
“No,” he said. “Lola, I forbid you so little but this...”
“Mmm,” she grinned at him. “I should prepare for this. I'll see you gentlemen tonight. Annabelle, do you want to help me?”
“I am willing to help you,” Annabelle replied. “But what is it that you need help with?”
“Come with me and you'll find out,” Lola said mysteriously. Annabelle giggled and followed, leaving Harold staring in confusion.
“I'm more frightened now than before the attack,” he said. “Your fiancé has grand plans, and I don't like the way they make me feel.”
“I wouldn't worry,” Wesley answered. “She can't damage the ship any more than has already been done.”
“At least there is that,” Harold replied
“SIR!”
He jumped about three feet in the air at Doctor Morin's cry.
“Yes?” he spun around, his heart pounding. Was the captain about to pound his way up the stairs and yell at them.
“I've called you three times now,” Doctor Morin said. “No disrespect intended, sir, but that won't go well in an emergency. Was your hearing affected from the blasts?”
“No,” Harold replied “At least....I don't think so. How can I help?”
“Lord Bamber is awake,” Doctor Morin replied. “You asked to be informed?”
“Yes, I did,” Harold answered “How is he?”
“His mind is well,” the doctor answered. “Although...”
“Although?” Harold's heart dropped.
“His wound is infected,” the doctor said. “I'm already seeing the signs. He'll be in a fever before long. I'm doing all that I can, but you may want to speak with him now, while he is clear and in not too much pain.”
“Of course, thank you,” Harold replied “Earl Rippon, are you well enough to take the watch?”
“Yes, of course, sir,” Wesley answered. “Please inform me of Lord Bamber's progress.”
“Yes,” Harold said, already turning to follow the doctor.
Aaron was indeed awake, and he was sitting up in the solid sick bay bed. He looked in better shape than other times he had awoke from a fit, and he turned to Harold with a half-smile.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hello,” Harold pulled up the chair closer. “Aaron, you gave us quite a fright.”
“Well,” Aaron winced as he shifted. “I have to take my entertainment where I can get it. What did I miss?”
“So much,” Harold replied “And that's Acting Captain Harold, in case you are wondering.”
“Acting Captain?” Aaron asked, in surprised “Is Willcock dead?”
“No,” Harold replied “But he fell into the hold the moment after he grabbed you. That's how you got that wound, in case you are wondering.”
“This is not a stab wound,” Aaron pointed out. “It hurts like the devil, but he didn't stab me.”
“I know, that's what I can't figure out,” Harold answered. “He grabbed you, maybe to threaten us. You were seizing, and I reached out...and he fell into the hold.”
Aaron may have not been feeling top form, but he knew when something wasn't quite right.
“He fell?” Aaron asked.
Harold fixed him with a stare.
“Aaron...” he warned.
“Huh,” Aaron knew at once what had happened. He knew Harold; he knew how the hold was situated. He also knew how he fell against the captain. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened in one moment.
What worried him the most was that he wasn't quite a genius, and it meant that anyone else could have figured it out as well.
“What state is he in?”
“He has no memory,” Harold said “Of anything, at the moment. He's been ranting nonsense and wandering around. He's not fit to take command.”
“What is the chance that he regains his memory?” Aaron asked.
“Just...a question.”
“No one knows,” Harold answered “It won't do us any good to speculate unless it happens. We should be back in port tomorrow or the next day, and then we can just...”
“Talk to the Courts,” Aaron answered. “You know that we will have to. Anything of this magnitude will be discussed by a panel.”
“Well,” Harold set his jaw. “We will discuss it when we have to cross that bridge.”
“I'll back you up,” Aaron kept his voice low. “Anything that you say...I say as well.”
“You focus on getting well,” Harold said “That is all I want.”
“Morin was honest with me,” Aaron replied. “This is going to get worse before it gets better. If it gets better.”
“You'll get better,” Harold refused to entertain the notion. “On land, there is a better surgery.”
“If I don't...” Aaron paused. “You'll take care of Annabelle?”
“Aaron, don't talk like this,” Harold snapped “You are going to be fine. You will be my best man, and see me marry your sister. Our children will grow up together and we will live in that house until the end of our days. With you as my Lord,” he shook his head. “I never quite pictured it that way.”
“Until you laid eyes on my sister,” Aaron teased and Harold smiled.
“There was that moment, yes.”
“Well,” Aaron tried to keep optimistic “What do you have planned for the rest of this cruise?”
“Lola is going to do a piece,” Harold answered “To replace the band that is...not able to play.”
“That should be fun,” Aaron replied. “Perhaps I should come up.”
“Can you?” Harold answered “I know the men would be relieved to see you up and about.”
“If you help me,” Aaron considered his options. “And perhaps a chair?”
“I'm sure it can be arranged,” Harold said “It's a little unorthodox...but I am Captain now, so my rules will be followed. All lieutenants must now sit in chairs to watch performances by stage actresses on the top deck.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Aaron smiled. They fell into silence, a comfortable silence that came with such a deep friendship. “I cannot wait to see Shauna again,” he said at last. “This life at sea though...oddly, I'll miss it.”
“So will I,” Harold said “But I just count myself lucky that we will be alive at the end of it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE SHOW
THE SHOW
“Ahem, Ahem, AHEM!” Matheson practically had to shout to be heard. It was a skeleton crew, but they could be noisy when they had a rough few days. There was such a clear separation between them and the visiting dignitaries, who looked completely shell shocked. He knew that this wasn't what they expected when they had signed up to tour with the flagship, but it wasn't easy. “ATTENTION!”
“How did Matheson get roped into stage managing?” Aaron leaned over to ask Annabelle. He wasn't feeling great, but he wouldn't miss this opportunity for anything.
The sail had been repaired, the wind had caught, and they were on their way back to port. If the wind remained steady, they would be back before dawn. The mood was calmer, and everyone could relax as long as the sails were blowing. Lola's entertainment was perfectly timed. That was, if Matheson could get their attention.
“QUIET!” Harold bellowed to the men, reminiscent of the fights that he had spent the last few months breaking up. To his surprise, it didn't quiet half of them. They chuckled, shaking their heads at him, and only quietened down when Corrigan cracked his jeer against his hand.
The divide in the crew had never been so clear as this night. They clearly had no intention of respecting Harold as Captain, and he was glad that he did not have to maintain this position long.
He also wondered whether, one day, there would be men who gave him, or Wesley, that much respect. Would they fight for him, defend him, even if it meant mutiny? Would he be the kind of Captain whose name went down in history? If they did, would it be for the right reasons.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Matheson said, clearly not comfortable speaking in front of a crowd. “Direct from London's stages, the famous Miss Lola Montclair.”
“What did you need to help her with?” Harold leaned over to Annabelle, who smiled.
“We had to steal candles.”
“What?” he turned to her in shock. He was about to ask more, when Lola stepped in front of the crowd, an arm full of candles in mugs. Balancing precariously, as to not set herself or anyone else on fire, she placed them in a semi-circle around her. Aaron smirked.
“Stage lights. Of course.”
“Do you have a bucket of water ready, just in case?” Wesley put in. Despite his taunt, he was smiling. Lola had captivated him from the moment he saw her, and this performance was no different.
There was light applause, and some hooting, which Corrigan quickly silenced. Lola looked out upon the crowd, as proud as if she were on the London stage.
“I thought I'd take this opportunity,” she said, smiling. “To give you a jovial little tune. It's been a while since I sang it, so forgive me. You shall not govern me.” She took a deep breath. She was used to be accompanied by an orchestra, in a place where there was good sound quality. It wasn't the worst place she had ever performed, but it was certainly challenging. Lola, however, loved a challenge. “When young and thoughtless, Laura said, No one shall win my heart. But little dreamt the simple maid, of love’s delusive art. At ball or play,” she glanced to Wesley, dipping her head. “She flirt away, and ever giddy be, but always said, I ne’er will wed. No one shall govern me. No, no, no, no, no, no, no one shall govern me.”
“Oh my,” Aaron covered his mouth, trying not to laugh. “Earl Rippon, what have you done to deserve this?”
“That's Lola,” Wesley replied. “Choosing the most awkward song she can. Don't you remember her display in the captain's cabin?”
“But time on airy pinions flew, And Laura’s charms decay’d, too soon alas! The damsel grew a pettish pert old maid. At ball or play, no longer gay, poor Laura now you’ll see. Nor does she cry, for reasons why, no one shall govern me. No, no, no.”
“A twist in the story line,” Annabelle took Harold’s hand. “I do enjoy that. Look at the crew, they are captivated.”
“They are captivated, because I promise you, never before has there been a song on the deck by a lady,” Harold answered “Most of them hardly see a woman.”
“Lucky you,” Annabelle answered. “You'll soon get to see me every day.”
“A lesson learned, ye ladies fair, from Laura’s wretched fate. Lest you, like her, should in despair repent, alas! Back too late.”
She mimed it out, and laughter came from the crowd. It wasn't the way anyone expected the song to go, especially with Lola's actions. She was truly a great actress, whether it was comedy or drama, and everyone's eyes were on her. No one was even looking at the raggedy sail, or the debris that was still scattered around the deck.
“Let me advise – While young, be wise, nor coy and silly be. I’m certain I would never cry,” Lola took a step towards the crowd, and then another, and another. Her eyes were bright, and alive, and she held her hand out to Wesley. “No one shall govern me. No, no, no. I’d gladly governed be.”
She looked into his eyes, and then curtsied.
The ship broke out into applause and cheers.
“Wesley,” Aaron elbowed him. “Take the lady's hand, for goodness sake.”
Wesley felt like he was back to being a shy sailor, who could barely speak to a woman. She was dazzling and her words were enchanting. He dipped his head in thanks, frozen. Lola smiled.
Annabelle settled on Harold’s shoulder. It had been quite a journey, but right now, under the moonlight, their friends close by, it was almost perfect. Romantic, full of emotion, and a moment that she would always remember.
She would also remember the moment the captain yelled.
“YOU, SIR!”
&nb
sp; Everyone jumped about three feet in the air, spinning around.
There, at the top of the ladder, stood Captain Willcock. He looked wild, and in his night shirt, his hair every which way. He looked like he had been up for days, and had aged ten years since he fell.
“Captain Willcock, sir,” Doren stepped forward, alarmed. The captain pulled out his pistol, and everyone froze. However, the captain did not seem to be waiving it aimlessly. He was moving it carefully, calculating his aim. He wanted to hit someone, but he couldn't decide who. “You are not well, sir.”
“I am not well?” Captain Willcock answered in confusion. He pointed at Aaron, who had risen, although his hand was on the chair. “He is not well.”
“He is---” Doren looked back at Aaron, in confusion.
“No,” Aaron spoke up, trying to deescalate the situation. There were so many men that could take the captain down, but of course, no one dared. “I am not well, Captain Willcock. Thank you for your concern.”
The captain narrowed his eyes.
“I remember,” he said. “I remember. Nothing slips by me on my ship. Why didn't you tell me?”
“What?” Aaron asked. “I---”
“You should have told me, boy,” The captain's hands were trembling. “Do you think I am not merciful?”
“I---” Aaron glanced to Harold. Another moment and this sudden turn of emotion from the captain was going to reveal his secret to the whole ship. There was no stopping it.
“I would have granted you mercy from your affliction. I hope you have a nice life, sir.”
No one moved, unsure of what to say. Then Willcock's eyes widened and he gasped. He started flailing his gun around again.
“You pushed me!” He cried. “I remember! YOU PUSHED ME!”
The next few seconds were the most horrifying on Annabelle's life. The gun clicked, she heard it. A bullet flew, and she screamed.
The captain fell to the ground, as if pulled by strings.
There were more screams.
Annabelle's head whipped around, trying to figure out who the captain had shot. Oddly enough, though, no one seemed to be bleeding or keeling over in agonizing pain.
Saving The Lord’s Title (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story) Page 10
