The Lord’s Secret (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story)

by Jasmine Ashford

  “You're my best friend,” she replied. “And it's my job to watch body language, to perform. Why didn't you come to get me? Did you know it was happening?”

  “I knew,” he answered. “But I assumed that you and Wesley were busy...”

  “Arguing,” she replied, with a sigh of her own. “He wasn't happy over the idea that I may be romancing some of the military men, in character as the princess.”

  “But that's just...”

  “I know that it's work and you know that,” Lola said. “But he claims they can't be as professional as actors.”

  “They will be if they don't want to be demoted,” Aaron replied. “All the officers are right in their faces, they wouldn't dare.”

  She shook her head. “I said when we started this that I couldn't deal with jealousy. I've been down this road before with a jealous man, and look where that led me.”

  She refereed to Wesley's last trip ashore, when he had to reclaim his title in order to sentence her ex-childhood sweetheart for murder. It had all come down to the fact that her so called childhood lover couldn't handle her kissing other men on stage.

  “Lola, he's different,” Aaron said. “He has no issue with you going on tour, performing, living your life while he's away.”

  “Well, this is part of my job,” she said. “And frankly, it's one of the better paying jobs I've had. I can't be on the stage forever, I know that. Youth and beauty only propel you so far.”

  “Lola, you'll always be a prima donna,” he said as they finally stepped outside. However, her words rattled in his brain as they headed toward the camp. If she and Wesley couldn't figure out a way to make things work, even with such open minds, then perhaps he and Shauna had no chance.

  “Lt. Harper! Lt. Bamber. Mr. Wesley! So glad you've arrived.” Mr. Taners rushed up to them, his ever present clipboard in his hands. “I need exact detailed diagrams and plans written out for the activities you have planned today.”

  They were barely out of the carriage, but it appeared that the chaos had already begun.

  “Can't we just tell you?” Aaron asked as he helped Shauna and Lola out of the carriage. Without Annabelle, it was a tight squeeze, but they had all managed in one. “Why do you need it written down?”

  “Look around, sir!” Taners said. “If we don't have written plans of action, there will be chaos here very shortly. The public is due to arrive at any minute.”

  “Alright, alright,” Aaron replied with a smile as Harold joined him. “We'll write it down for you, if you escort the ladies where they need to go.”

  “Right, just over there,” Taners pointed in the vague direction of some tents.

  Aaron raised an eyebrow, glancing at Harold. “Mr. Taners, yesterday, there was a random attack by a war protester in our general direction, which would make the camp unsafe until the suspect is deemed to be working alone. In addition, Lola Montclair does not go anywhere unescorted, for her own safety.”

  Taners raised an eyebrow, but dipped his head. “My apologies,” he said. “Ladies, if you'll follow me.”

  “That's better!” Aaron said, as Shauna gave him a small smile. “Honestly, you’d think Taners had never been around performers before.”

  “He probably hasn't,” Harold pointed out. “At least, none as famous as Lola. Although I suspect there is another reason you wanted them escorted.”

  “I just... want them all to be safe,” Aaron tried to change to subject. He hadn't brought himself to tell anyone but Lola that Gwendolyn was his daughter, although he was sure the question was on everyone's lips. “Isn't that right, Wesley?”

  “Sir,” Wesley replied, half distracted. “Of course.”

  “There we have it,” Aaron turned back to the mess of papers in his hand. While Wesley was writing out his plans, he nudged Harold. “What did the dispatches say?”

  “Huh?” Harold asked, his plans laid out in his mind. “Dispatches?”

  “This morning? I told you that Head Office sent dispatches for you last night.”

  “Blast.” He slapped a palm to his forehead. “You did. I left them sitting on your table.”

  “That's not like you, Harold,” Aaron teased. “You looked so eager when I told you.”

  “Your sister---” he started, and then stopped himself. “Your sister. That's all I'm going to say.”

  “And that is all I want to know,” Aaron answered. “Has she convinced you to have the wedding over the winter?”

  “With Annabelle, it's safest just to say yes,” he replied with a half smile. “If we get home tonight and she has it all planned, I’ll just show up at the church. And you, Mr. Wesley?”

  “Huh?” Wesley asked, as he wrote. “And I what?”

  “Your wedding plans?”

  “Oh,” Wesley muttered and looked up. “We haven't really...discussed things.”

  “It's been a busy time,” Aaron said, closing his eyes for a moment. The morning sun was giving him a headache, and he wished he had a place to sit down. “I don't think anyone has had a chance to think clearly.”

  “Mr. Bamber?” Matheson put in, catching the tone in his voice.

  “I'm alright,” Aaron said, as Wesley handed him the quill. Trying to balance a quill and paper, while someone else held the ink, was increasingly difficult. “I don't even know what to write; I have no idea what I want to do.”

  “Your charge is the camp?” Harold asked. “Perhaps a list of tasks for the men. Otherwise, it will be chaos.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “I can lay out a scenario for Lola and I, Wesley, if that's suits you? And then there will be no concern, I trust?”

  Wesley nodded to that, and Aaron sketched out a quick plan that involved Lola crossing his path several times. Then he hesitated, looking up at the way the tents were laid out. “Is that a med bay tent?” he asked Harold, who followed his finger.

  “Yes,” he said. “Why?”

  “I just thought, since I'm in charge, I could use it to my advantage. Shauna and Gwendolyn as camp followers, taking care of their wounded soldier, fearing for his life after a battle.... What?” he looked up at their shocked faces. “There's no point in pretending this is all glory and fun. There are some horrible parts of war as well, and the boys should know what they are signing up for.”

  “I don't think anyone thinks war is all happiness, Aaron,” Harold said, but waved his hand. “You might as well, though. At least you'll get to be out of this cold, which is growing worse every moment.”

  “There is that,” Aaron replied. “Have fun on the ship.”

  “Sir, did you want me to go back and fetch the dispatches for you?” Matheson offered. “The ones you've forgotten?”

  “No,” Harold replied. “If they were of pressing need, they would deliver the news to my person. Dispatches are likely just information to take when we sail again.”

  “All done,” Aaron blew on the paper to dry it. “Now, where did Taners get off too? Here, Corrigan, find him. And then you two should get to Lola.”

  “That's Princess Lola to you,” Corrigan grinned and he and Matheson trotted off, leaving the three officers standing together.

  “Do you think this is crazy?” Aaron asked, and Wesley nodded.

  “Yes. Crazy and unprofessional. But it might be so much so that it will work. And God knows we need more men. The fleet is at the lowest enrollment it's ever been.”

  “What about you, Harold?” Aaron asked. “Crazy or brilliant?”

  Harold gave him a smile. “Crazy has never stopped us before, has it, Aaron?”

  “No.” Aaron managed a genuine smile. “No, it hasn't.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE LADIES

  THE LADIES

  Inside the women's tents, Lola was given a grand gown and a crown, and she giggled as she balanced it on her head. “Could you imagine wearing this all the time?” she asked Shauna, who was told that her regular clothes were fine. “I've worn them on stage before, but never in my daily life.”
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br />   “Can I try?” Gwendolyn asked, and Lola bent down to hand it over with a smile. She had been told that there would be a ladies’ maid in a moment to do her hair, which was something she was used to, being on stage.

  “Of course you can,” Lola said. “It's just paste, it's not real. I'm not really a princess.” She turned to Shauna as Gwendolyn experimented with the crown. “So? How was it spending the night in Bamber Manor? Did it bring back old memories?”

  “It did,” Shauna admitted. “Although it felt very different. As if we were different people than we used to be.”

  “Well, you are in, a way,” Lola replied. “In addition, ever since Aaron took it over, it's been a different place. It's not as strict as his father's rule, and he has his own ideas of how his reign will be.”

  “I never saw...Aaron as the Lord,” Shauna said. “I knew one day it would all be his. But when we were together, we didn't think too much of the future. We were young, and our heads were full of silly ideas.”

  “Just because you spent some time apart does not mean you don't hold love for each other,” Lola said. “I don't love Wesley any less just because he's at sea.”

  “And how long has it been for you to have such knowledge?” Shauna asked. “3 months? 4?”

  Lola sighed. She had already addressed Shauna's tone yesterday, and she wasn't about to do it again. She had never found that responding to negativity with an equal tone did any good. Her heart ached for Shauna, if only by default. She’d had a few interactions with her when Aaron first met her; but she mostly felt for Shauna through her best friend. She knew how much Aaron loved Shauna, and how much it pained him to leave her when his father died. He was torn between duty and love, and never able to find a way for the two to coincide. Eventually, he had stopped talking about her; stopped mentioning the things that reminded him of her. However, Lola knew he had never stopped thinking about her. “4,” she said. “4 long months of not knowing whether he's dead or alive. You know that terror, don't you?”

  “Aye,” Shauna replied softly. “Aye, I do.”

  “Well then, we are not so different,” Lola said as the ladies’ maid came in to dress her. “Not so different at all. “

  “Mommy,” Gwendolyn said, tugging at Shauna's hand. “What are we supposed to be doing today?”

  “We're just supposed to pretend that we live in the camp,” Shauna said. “And that these men around us are all people we know, our family and friends.”

  “Going to war?” Gwendolyn asked. “That is so exciting.”

  “No,” Shauna was quick to tell her, bending down to look her in the eye. “It is not exciting at all. People die in war all the time. Can you imagine your friends not coming home after you wait so long to see them?”

  There was a ringing bell, which indicated that the camps were open for the day. Shauna stood up and took Gwendolyn's hand. She didn't see any need to stand around and watch Lola being made into a princess.

  Outside, there were already people milling around.

  “Madame,” Taners was standing outside, and pointed to a white tent on the far side. “You and your daughter are to report to the med bay. Your...” he looked down at the paper. “Sailor husband has been wounded in battle.”

  “I'm sorry?” Shauna said in shock.

  “For the theatrical...” Taners said and Shauna shook herself.

  “Right, of course,” Shauna said, leading Gwendolyn through the already busy camp. To her surprise, she found Aaron sitting on one of the medical cots, his uniform jacket off and his white shirt colored in bright red blood. She dropped Gwendolyn's hand in shock.

  “It's alright!” Aaron said, putting out his hand. “It's alright. It's just pig’s blood, from the mess tent.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Shauna put her hand to her chest. “Is this really necessary? I've been to other recruitment camps before, and they usually don't go through such...trouble.”

  “They left it up to me,” he said. “So I situated myself where the three of us could have some private moments, inside a nicely sheltered tent. I think I got shot saving my Captain.” He looked down at his fake wound with a smile. “The only one brave enough to do so, with my own life hanging by a thread.”

  “You always were the dramatic one,” she said, looking to her daughter. “Do you understand, Gwendolyn, what we are pretending?”

  “Are you a martyr?” Gwendolyn asked, her eyes wide. Aaron laughed.

  “A hero,” he said and she paused.

  “What's the difference?”

  “Martyrs have to be dead,” he said.

  She paused again, and then gasped. “Oh! Did you die?”

  Aaron burst out laughing and Shauna sighed, taking a seat in a chair at the bedside. “Can you act sad, Gwendolyn?” she said.

  “Come and sit with me,” Aaron said, patting the bedside. She hopped up and he handed her a book that had been left for a prop.

  While she thumbed through it, Shauna studied him. “Are you feeling better? From this morning?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Although Taners threw me for a loop this morning, trying to make sure everything was written down and organized.”

  Shauna smirked at that. “As if you don't know how to do your jobs? You've done them all your life.”

  “Aye,” Aaron replied. “But everyone works best when they know what the plan is, and they aren't just wandering through the day.”

  “Wandering through the day, finding things to keep you busy? Perhaps sell a flower on the road, or scrape together enough to make dinner?”

  “Shauna,” he reached out to take her hand, but she pulled back.

  “It's fine. It's the life I got used to.”

  “It won't ever be that way again,” he promised her. “One way or another. I promise you that.”

  She met his eyes. He was so handsome, with his sparkling blue eyes standing out from his tanned skin, and his blond hair falling into his face. She had been bowled over on the street when she first laid eyes on him, and considered herself the luckiest woman in the world when he had noticed her. However, the world wasn't as simple as pure love. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the thought, if nothing else.”

  The tent door was open, and people occasionally looked in, gasping at the sight of the injury. There wasn't much acting, as there wasn't much interaction until the early afternoon, when a cry came through the camp.

  “All men for royal inspection! All men at attention for the arrival of her majesty!”

  “Princess!” Gwendolyn said, and Aaron grinned, swinging his legs off the bed. Then he paused, reaching out.

  “Shauna, you should help me,” he said.

  Her brow furrowed. “Why?”

  “Character,” he said. “I can't very well leap from my sick bed; it won't be very believable But wounded, ill or half dead, everyone is expected to stand for royal inspection. That is true on any ship or camp.”

  “Oh,” she said as she slipped an arm around his waist. It was just as she remembered, firm and lean, and she was startled by the memory of how well they used to fit together. When they would hug, she always fit like she was made to fit into him. Her body had changed; her hips wider, her arms a little fleshier, but they still fit as if God had designed them that way. He shifted and she felt him tremble for a moment. “Aaron?”

  “I'm alright,” he said. “Just trying to get into character. Gwendolyn, here, take my hand.”

  “I wonder if you're doing your job or having far too much fun?” she asked, and he laughed.

  “You should see the mischief I get up to on the ship,” he replied, reveling in her touch.

  Outside, the men were lining up in the rows that they normally did when an inspection was due to take place. Since there were several different ship's crews employed, there was shuffling around that looked a bit messy as they tried to figure out who was what rank and where they stood. The men were mostly navy men, not as upstanding as the army, who were used to looking immaculate in their uni
forms.

  “Should have practiced this bit,” Aaron said, lingering in the back. “It's a bit...chaotic...”

  “But look at the attention you're getting,” Shauna said. “Look at the faces of those boys. It's as if you are gods.”

  “Lord Bamber,” Wesley joined him on one side, looking rather cold as he rubbed his hands together. “You look worse for wear.”

  “I single-highhandedly rescued the captain,” Aaron grinned. “Against fifty French troops and with only one shot.”

  “Oh,” Wesley said. “That will go down in the record books as the most impossible feat yet.”

  “Won't it?” he said. “I thought that it might be dramatic as well. Matheson and Corrigan are with Lola, then?”

  “Yes, and Lt. Harper is on the ship,” Wesley said, glancing at the bay, where three of the English ships were lingering, two of them flying false French colors. “I think he's going to try a double gun maneuver, although I'm not sure. There were many to choose from when surrounded by French frigates.”

  “Not many of them that are successful,” Aaron said, glancing at the water. “I'm sure he's having fun.”

  “MAKE WAY!” Matheson voice suddenly came loud and clear. “MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY FOR HER ROYAL MAJESTY!”

  “Is she just a generic princess, then?” Aaron asked. “I suppose impersonating Princess Caroline would only get her into trouble?”

  “I don't know, I haven't seen her all morning,” Wesley answered, in a tone that made him turn his head.

  “Is all well, sir?”

  “Fine, sir,” Wesley stared straight ahead as Lola emerged from the tent. The crowd gasped, and to Aaron's amusement, some of them actually bowed.

  She did look like a princess, a crown woven into her hair, and a gorgeous purple gown that looked made to fit her. With her stays done up, and a beautiful fake necklace sparkling on her long neck, she was an inspiring beauty. There wasn't a man in that lineup that didn't gaze upon her as she swept past.

  Matheson and Corrigan stood behind her, glaring at their colleagues while hiding smirks, daring one of them to start trouble