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

by Jasmine Ashford

  Spotting Aaron in the crowd, Lola drifted over, meeting his eyes. She was smiling, and he half bowed, grunting at the effort.

  “You were injured, sir?” she said. “No doubt a heroic effort?”

  “Your Majesty,” he said, although he could barely keep from grinning. He realized in that moment that her job was not as easy as it appeared to be. “I am only a humble sailor, doing my duty.”

  “Come, a handsome man such as you does not deserve to be so humble. How were you injured?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

  “I was injured saving the life of my captain,” Aaron said. “It was only myself and one working pistol, against 100 Frenchmen who boarded us.”

  Wesley rolled his eyes at that, but Lola played along, placing a hand on his arm. “100 Frenchmen?” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You must be very brave, indeed.”

  “If it serves my princess, then I would do it again against a thousand,” he said, and locked gazes.

  Shauna shifted uncomfortably, feeling subconscious. Beside Lola, she looked like a frumpy peasant. Aaron was far handsomer than any man who had ever looked at her, and he looked perfect in Lola's grasp.

  All illusion was suddenly broken, however, with a giant bang. Before anyone could react, dirt flew around them and the ground trembled as a cannonball hit the shore. Everyone screamed, and dropped to the ground.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A PLAY ATTACK

  A PLAY ATTACK

  Aaron felt himself pushed backward in the crowd, and he tried to grab Shauna, who reached for Gwendolyn. It only ended in a giant chain of dominoes, with him stumbling back against Wesley. Wesley was less jumpy, used to spending his time imagining the heat of battle. Although they all stumbled, no one’s head connected with the ground.

  Wesley steadied Aaron, pushing him forward so he could see the damage done. Matheson took his role as Lola's bodyguard quite seriously, both of them pulling her down. There was chaos and screaming, echoes of yesterday, but the navy men recognized it as single cannon shot.

  “It came from the fake French frigate,” Wesley identified right away, his eyes watching the smoke trail. “Either a false order or a misfire. Who the hell is on those ships?”

  “Broken crews, sir,” Matheson said. “They've split us all up; no one is working with anyone they are used to.”

  “Where's the shot?” Aaron asked frantically “Where's the shot?”

  “There,” Wesley's keen eyes saw the damage, on the trail leading up the beach. Then he saw the man on the ground, a trail of blood surrounding him. “Oh God, someone has been hit!”

  “I---Oh---” Aaron was about to scramble forward when he felt the familiar wave of nausea hit him. His hand started to shake, and he clenched it tight, feeling his head throb. He must have connected with something hard; although he didn't remember hitting anything.

  “Aaron,” Lola scrambled forward, taking his hand. “Stay down.”

  “I don't--”

  “With all due respect, my Lord, I don't really care what you want,” Lola said, with a boldness most women lacked. “Stay here. Wesley?”

  He wasn't technically the senior officer, but he did identify as strategy and tactics, so command fell to him. “Form ranks!” Wesley screamed. “Women and children behind the rank! Now!”

  There was not another shot though, nor another indication that anything was wrong. All the ships had stopped moving, and although there were a few children crying; there was no noise within the camp.

  “It must have been a misfire,” Wesley said at last. “A mistake. A tragedy; but a mistake.”

  “A mistake,” Shauna said, raising her chin. “That's all?”

  “A damn bloody dangerous one,” Aaron's temper flared. “What the hell is Harold doing there? He could have gotten us all killed.”

  “Aaron,” Lola said in surprise. “You know what a difficult job he has.”

  “I don't care if he has the most difficult job known to man. He's on that ship, in command, and his misfire order killed someone. He didn't have proper command, damn it.”

  No one had ever seen Aaron so angry. Anger was not a trait that ever entered Lord Bamber's tone, even at the worst of times. He had always been good natured; as long as anyone had known him. However, with Lola grasping his hand tightly, Shauna took a step back.

  “I'm sure your friend just...”

  “No,” Aaron said. “He's gotten carried away and...”

  His eyes were wild and Lola recognized the signs. “Aaron,” she warned him, looking around for help. “Matheson, please.”

  “Don't speak to me as if I'm an invalid!” Aaron snapped at her.

  “In a moment, you're going to become one,” she said as Matheson grabbed his other side. “Back to the tent, now.”

  Matheson had seen Aaron's seizures since the young Lord was barely 10 years old, just a boy in Spithead. He had seen the wild emotions give way to a terrible seizure, but never like this. Aaron's fits startled him, but they didn't alarm him. “Begging your pardon, sir,” he said, dragging his commanding officer back to the tents. Shauna followed with Gwendolyn, unsure of what to do next.

  The seizure that followed was one of the most intense that Lola had seen. He had been almost rid of them, but it appeared they were saving up their strength. Her crown fell down her hair as she grasped one shoulder, and Matheson grasped the other. Gwendolyn's mouth fell open, and she gasped. However, to Lola's surprise, Shauna was calm.

  “It's alright,” she said, crouching down to her daughter. “It's alright. He's alright; he just gets sick sometimes, like all of us. Do you remember when you had a fever and had to stay inside during Sara's birthday party? It's quite like that. It will pass.”

  “You've seen them before,” Lola said in surprise. “I didn't know if he’d told you.”

  “Of course he told me,” Shauna said. “I've not seen many, but I've known that they plagued him. I had thought he was getting better.”

  “He was,” Matheson said. “Until the stresses of the ship returned. He can handle command with no issue. There is nothing wrong with his mind, but this physical mess, he bangs his head, he throws himself over things, and they return.”

  “And yet somehow, he's so hard-headed,” Lola said, as Aaron's spasms calmed down. “He won't tell someone until he's too late. He thinks it makes him...unfit for company.”

  “Ridiculous,” Shauna said, rolling her eyes. “Really, it is. We all have our problems.”

  “That is refreshing,” Lola said with a small smile. “I'm sure he appreciates it.”

  “If he would hear it,” Shauna replied.

  Aaron took a giant gasp, coming back to consciousness, and Matheson pushed him down gently. “It's alright, sir,” he said. “It's alright. Just a crack on the head.”

  Military men were less fazed about death and accidental fire than the public were. Although the numbers thinned out, the camp remained open, and it was less than an hour until Harold stuck his head into the tent.

  Aaron was recovered, and Lola had no choice but to return to the field. It was only Shauna and Gwendolyn sitting with him, as they had that morning.

  “Hello,” Harold said, looking a bit stunned. “How are you?”

  “Do you want to explain to me why you almost got us killed?” Aaron asked, although his voice was less angry. The fit had taken most of the anger out of him, and he didn't have it in him to snap at his best friend. “What happened out there?”

  “I was not on that ship, thank you,” Harold said. “And I did not give the command. The story that they tell is that a command on their ship was misinterpreted, and the cannon was lit. The man who did it was killed.”

  “Killed?” Aaron said in shock.

  “Aye, as were the three surrounding him. The cannon exploded; it must have been damaged previously. Wesley is on board now, trying to reconstruct.”

  Aaron sighed. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I lost my temper.”

  “It's alright,” Harold said, nodding t
o Shauna. “Although we can't say that it's the best start to a recruitment camp.”

  “No,” Aaron said. “Shauna, perhaps you should head back to the Manor? There's no one that will make you stay here if you feel unsafe.”

  “I don't feel unsafe,” she said in surprise. “Lt. Harper just said that it was a mistake.”

  “Then for Gwendolyn's sake.”

  “Aaron,” she fixed him with a glare. “With all due respect, you aren't paying our wages to be here.”

  “I can,” he said, and she picked up Gwendolyn.

  “Come on,” she said. “I assume all is safe enough to wander the camp, Lt. Harper?”

  “Yes,” Harold said. “We won't be firing those cannons again until they are fixed.”

  “I'll see you gentlemen back at the house,” Shauna said, and took Gwendolyn by the arm.

  “But Mommy, I want to stay with the nice man,” she protested. “He's hurt.”

  “He's alright now,” Shauna replied, and pulled her out. Aaron watched them go with a look of sadness, but didn't attempt to stop them.

  “What is happening?” Harold asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “One moment you're cheerful, and the next I hear you are crashing to the ground and sending away the very woman you write poetry about half the night.”

  “The cannon fire,” Aaron said. “You say it was an accident, and I know that now. But had it been an attack, my first priority would be to protect them. Instead, I crack my head against Wesley's elbow and I don't remember the next thirty minutes after that. I failed them, and they've only been back in my life two days. How can I even have a hope of wooing her again, of apologizing to her for just leaving her, when I can't even protect her in a difficult moment?”

  “There are some women,” Harold said, after a long moment. “That need the strong arm of a man. They swoon at the drop of a hat, scuttle at a spider, and cannot tie a knot. However, of the three of us here, you, me, and Wesley...we do not seem to have given our hearts to that type of woman. Rather, we have given our hearts to women who can match us wit for wit, and keep us on our toes. Do you understand?”

  “It still makes me feel less of a man,” Aaron said, and Harold sighed.

  “You were not troubled by these fits much until the heavy duty work began. They seemed to have tampered off as we reached our late teens. But you are right. A heavy workout, a crack on the head, and they return.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Aaron asked. “Stay at home, live a simple life at the Manor, a boring life where I never experience anything?”

  “A life where you can be with the woman you love and your daughter?” Harold quirked an eyebrow and Aaron froze.

  “You know,” he said.

  “Of course I know; do you take me for a fool?” he asked. “One only has to look at the child to see that she is your mirror image....she looks just like a miniature version of Annabelle,” he said and smiled fondly. “Who I imagine is having quite the quiet day at the Manor, compared to our day.”

  “She's probably already got your wedding planned,” Aaron said. “You'll come home to a house full of relatives and a priest.”

  “That's fine,” Harold said. “Now, did anyone see you fall?”

  “No,” Aaron replied. “I don't think so. Lola's fast.”

  “Good,” Harold said. “Because, as your senior officer, I'm not going to be the one banning you from here, especially if Shauna is determined to stay. Just try to not crack your head open again, hmm?”

  “I missed you too,” Aaron replied as Harold got up. “I think I'll play sick and wounded a bit longer, until they close for the day. How are recruitment numbers?”

  “Quite high,” Harold answered. “Even with a cannon blast gone wrong. Tomorrow, if it's fixed, I'll try and run an actual maneuver. Poor man.”

  “Spoils of war,” Aaron said dryly as he heard laughter from outside the tent. At least he was here, with his friends; at least he was close to Shauna. It may be the only shot at happiness he ever got, and he was determined to enjoy it.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHAT COULD BE

  WHAT COULD BE

  “And then this man looks me right in the eye and asks me if the palace is also open for recruitment,” Lola regaled to Annabelle the moment they got in the door. “The gall, can you imagine?”

  “I can imagine you handled it with grace and poise, as you always do,” she said. “The theatre sent a note while you were away.”

  “Oh?” Lola took the letter from Annabelle's hands as the rest came into the foyer.

  “Brother,” Annabelle said, stepping aside. “You look worse for wear.”

  “It's been a day,” Aaron said, with a half smile. “But we've all made it home, so far.”

  “I'm hungry,” Gwendolyn blurted out. “Mommy, do we need to go to market?”

  “No, darling,” Shauna said, as their coats were taken. She felt uncomfortable in such luxury, being waited on hand and foot. She had always made her own way; taken care of herself. “There is a dinner prepared, I imagine.”

  “Not for me,” Lola said with a sigh as she finished the letter. “I have to go to work.”

  “You just worked all day!” Wesley protested, and she shrugged a bony shoulder.

  “I know, but it appears my replacement for the run of the camp has run off and gotten married,” she said. “This morning. So they would like me to step in, at least for a night or two.” She gave a tired smile. “Anyone for the theatre tonight?”

  “If it's all the same to you,” Matheson said, eyeing Corrigan. “We were thinking more of the public house for a wind down. After dinner, of course. We wouldn't turn down that.”

  “I'd love the theatre; I've been bored all day,” Annabelle took Harold's arm. “Take me to the theatre, will you? There's a box waiting.”

  “I don't know.” Harold couldn't resist her charms. “Perhaps Lola would prefer to act alone?”

  “Never,” Lola replied. “Wesley, you'll come out tonight, won't you? We could have a drink ourselves after?”

  Shauna felt the need to step in then. “Before you ask, it will be past Gwendolyn's bedtime by then. And she needs a good night’s sleep after today.”

  “Don't we all,” Lola said. “Another night then. You’d better mind the fort, Aaron.” She looked him right in the eye. “Stay home, hmm?”

  “I've seen you act all day,” he replied, knowing there was no chance that his overprotective friends would let him out of the house after today. Besides, a quick calculation in his mind made him realize that he would be alone with Shauna after dinner.

  Sure enough, in front of a crackling fire, they settled down after dinner, weariness on their faces.

  “Do you remember when we were 20 years old and we could stay up all night?” he asked as she let the warmth of the flames penetrate her still-cold body. “And never feel worse for wear in the morning?”

  “You could do that,” she said, sitting beside him. “You were always so full of energy, so full of happiness. I could never keep up with you.”

  He came to sit beside her, wanting so badly to reach out, to take her hand, to draw her close. However, he settled for being only inches apart from her.

  “Harold knows,” he said. “About Gwendolyn. He guessed.”

  “One only has to look to guess,” she replied. “It makes me nervous, staying here with you. We don't know anyone in town, of course, but if we came across someone from home...it wouldn't take a high level of intelligence to figure out that I'd found a place with my child's father.”

  “No one outside of these walls will know,” he said. “I promise you that. If anything, she can be my...cousin...my niece...whatever suits. But I was thinking about where you live...it doesn't have to be that way either. When I sail, I’m not here so often. Surely it wouldn't be scandalous to live here if I wasn't here?”

  Shauna's mouth fell open. “Live here? In the Manor?”

  “Why not?” he asked. “It is Gwendolyn's, after all.”
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  “And what happens, Aaron, when you find a noble wife? Do we hide ourselves away in the back alley? Do I explain to Gwendolyn that we aren't good enough?”

  “You are so angry, Shauna,” he said. “And I can only blame myself for it. I am so sorry for the way things ended...but we did decide together, mutually, that we had to part ways.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “I am sorry, my tone was harsher than I meant it.....and I am glad to see you again.”

  It was she who took his hand this time, scooting a bit closer to him by the fire. They fell into silence, her head on his shoulder, and his hand around her waist.

  “I was so worried about you,” she said. “This afternoon.”

  “Aye,” he closed his eyes. “That is perhaps another reason....I could not protect you, should something like that happen again.”

  “Do you think that somehow makes you less of a man?” Shauna's head rose, her eyebrows raised. “It makes you more of one to stand and fight still, to try still, despite what your body puts you through. I have always admired you for that strength; that courage.”

  “That is...not something anyone has said to me before,” he said as he brushed a stray hair away from her face. “Thank you.”

  “You should know me well enough to know,” Shauna began. “That I do not mince words; nor do I put my truths with sugar-coated lies. It is how I feel.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I do know that about you.” Now that he was curled up by the fire, he felt stronger, his belly full and his head clear. When he leaned in to kiss her this time, he felt her life force flood his, her strength give in to fill his gaps.

  He needed Shauna in his life; that much was clear.

  Time passed quicker than either of them imagined it would. They talked the night away, glasses of hot tea forgotten as the fire died down. He never let go of her hand, and she never moved, for fear they would never touch again.

  Aaron was thoroughly surprised when the door opened, and the others returned from the theatre in a loud group. He jumped, nearly falling off the couch in shock. He pulled his hands away from Shauna, who leaned back. They were so used to keeping their relationship a secret that they didn't even feel comfortable in front of their closest friends.