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

by Jasmine Ashford

  “I left my necktie in here yesterday,” he said. “And if I don't find it, they might demonstrate a good whipping on board.”

  “I highly doubt that Lola is going to get angry over a missing kerchief,” Shauna said as she scanned the ground. “Is that how it really works during a royal inspection?”

  “Yes,” Aaron said. “If the prince was actually to walk in, I'd be in for it.”

  “Here,” Shauna produced an item from her pocket that looked suspiciously like a kerchief. “It's Gwendolyn's, actually. She ripped it off her dress and I meant to mend it. Do you think that it will do?”

  “I think you're my angel,” he said, kissing her. “This is perfect.”

  “It has been awhile since I've seen you in full uniform,” she said. “Do you think I can come?”

  “Yes, but why don't you take a moment?” he teased her. “And then you can board and be my admirer. You can be on the boat behind me. Our little secret.”

  “Here,” Shauna helped him tie the kerchief, making sure that everything was perfect, from tip to toe. “There, perfect.”

  “Thank you,” he said, lingering a moment longer.

  He heard the bell ring, though, and knew that he could not linger any longer. Heading out of the tent, he guessed by the sun that he had fifteen minutes to take a jolly boat to the ship that was closest to the harbor.

  There were several jolly boats, taking the public back and forth for a small fee, which was supposed to go toward the war fund. He smiled at the admirers as he stepped onto one, sitting down as if it were second nature.

  “Do they pay for your uniform?” one woman with a young son asked. “It looks so expensive.”

  “No,” he said. “But it's not...mine is a cut higher than choice. You don't have to go with silver buckles.”

  “Ah,” the woman looked to her son, who wasn't even old enough to be a powder monkey. “And there's a share of the plunder?”

  “Uh...well, we aren't quite pirates,” he said. “But there is prize money.”

  “I want to fight pirates!” the young boy cried out and he chuckled.

  The woman hushed him, exasperated. “My apologies,” she said. “Children can be a handful. Do you have any of your own?”

  “No,” he answered, out of reflex, and then he thought about it. “Actually...yes. One, a daughter. She's 6.”

  “How lovely,” the woman replied. “Your wife must miss you very much while you are away.”

  “I hope she does,” he said as they reached the ship.

  It was quite a treat for the public to be able to tour one of the ships. He imagined that it would be chaotic, but the officers on board seemed to be directing people well. It wasn't much different than when they were in Spithead, and the men brought guests aboard.

  “Hello,” Harold said, as Aaron jumped on board. He looked weary at the constant comings and goings of the public, but he had a half smile on his face. “You took your time.”

  “Ah, well, that's a story for tonight,” Aaron said, looking around. “You look like you're having a grand time.”

  “So far, I've had three children jiggle the lock on a leftover sea chest and another trip over the steering wheel.”

  “So, another day at sea,” Aaron said with a grin.

  He was interrupted by two sea whistles from the bosuns, indicating attention. Normally, it might mean the captain was coming aboard. However, today, Aaron knew it meant fun with Lola.

  “Alright men, stand to attention,” Harold called out through the chaos. “Attention! Are Matheson and Corrigan with her?”

  “I assume,” Aaron shrugged. “Although Matheson is a bit worse for wear. We separated when we signed in.”

  “Who would have thought that actually being at war would be easier?”

  “Hmm,” Harold titled his head. “Better get in line. The princess is coming.”

  Aaron smirked, and fell into the lineup, beside other lieutenants from other ships. He looked down to make sure his uniform was straight, and one of them flicked a spot of mud off of him.

  “Lord Bamber,” he said. “I think you need to stand over here.”

  “On your other side?” Aaron replied. “What does it matter?”

  “You have seniority over me,” the lieutenant said.

  “But we're all from different... whatever,” Aaron wasn't going to argue about it, and stepped to the other side. “Wait, how did you know--?”

  His sentence was cut off by a sudden explosion. Aaron felt the ground under him shake, just a moment before he felt his feet fly out from under him. The side of the ship flew up in splinters of wood. Aaron flew against Harold's always rigid body. In this case, his uptightness came in handy, and he was able to absorb some of the blast. Both of them hit the deck.

  In the aftermath of the explosion, there was silence. No one moved, and everyone still alive was trying to process what was happening.

  “You alright?” Harold asked, moving very carefully. They were taught in the aftermath to move very slowly, in case they were injured or there was another bomb somewhere.

  “Yes,” Aaron said, his head slowly tilting toward the edge of the ship. The explosion had taken out a large chunk of the port side, and the pieces were everywhere. Men were groaning, and others were lying motionless. The crowd that was on shore had screamed and scattered, trying to get away from the flying debris. It was chaos on land, and the eye of the hurricane on what remained on the ship. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes,” Harold murmured and pushed himself up. Aaron tried to get up with him, but Harold put a hand on his shoulder. “Just stay down another moment, alright? You're no help if you fall.”

  “I'm alright,” Aaron tried to assure him, looking around. His mind slowly came back to him, “Lola,” he said, remembering that she was in the port-side cabin. “Harold, go downstairs. I'll manage things here. Wesley? Wesley!” He pushed himself up, looking around. Last he remembered, Wesley had been standing near the ladder.

  There were some casualties, that was for sure. Some of the men were also clearly not going to make it, with wood through their hearts, or missing limbs. Despite the fact that they were trying to simulate a real crew, there was no doctor on board, as far as he knew.

  Then he heard the screaming from the ocean below. He threw himself as close to the side as he could without actually falling overboard, and saw that the boat behind them had taken a hit. There were bodies floating in the water.

  “SHAUNA!” he screamed, and before he knew what was happening, he plunged into the cold water.

  It hit him like a shock, and he knew he was at risk for a seizure. Nevertheless, he had to fight against the feelings, fight against the instant symptoms.

  “Shauna?” he cried again, spurting seawater. “'SHAUNA!”

  “Aaron!” her hand grabbed his shoulder, almost pushing him under the water. Her face was pale, and she was bleeding from the forehead, but her eyes were alert, and her grip was strong. “I'm alright. I'm here. I'm alright.”

  He wasn't sure what to do. It was too far to swim to shore, and he wasn't sure that the ship was safe. However, he had to make a choice, because her dress was weighing her down. They couldn't keep treading water forever.

  “Alright, alright, hold on.” He looked around frantically, until he noticed that there was a rope hanging over the side of the ship. “Can you climb?”

  “In a dress?” she asked him. The water was shockingly cold, and both of them were beginning to shiver. A cold wind blew in, and it was a very frank reminder that winter was coming. “I don't know.”

  “We're going to have to try, Shauna,” he said as he noticed that there was now chaos above them. Everyone was trying to help everyone else, and there was no one to pull them up. “We can't stay in this water long; we'll freeze.”

  “Try,” she said. “The definition of my life. Let's try.”

  “Right.” He grabbed hold of the rope, trying to make sure that it was tight. He gave it a yank, and it was looser th
an he would have liked. Nevertheless, he was able to wrap it around his wrist and pull, making it taut. “Use your legs, and take it slow. As long as you're out of the water, it will be alright.”

  “You go first,” she said. “Lead by example.”

  “Hmm,” his hands were beginning to shake, and he hoped it was from cold. He slipped twice before he managed to start climbing. “Shauna,” he said and spun around. “If you can't do it, just stay and I'll pull you up.”

  “Can't do it is not a phrase I use often,” she said and gritted her teeth. This woman was strong, and he hated that she was strong because he had made her so. He had not made life easy for her, because he had been afraid; selfish. “Just climb.”

  He pulled himself up on deck first, and then spun around to make sure she was doing the same. It was with difficulty, but she was doing it. “Come on,” he put out his hand, and eventually, she grabbed onto it. He pulled as hard as he could, and both of them collapsed on the deck on their backs, panting. “We did it. We did it,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “My God.”

  “Are you alright?” Shauna asked.

  “I'm alright,” Aaron said, staring at the sky. “But I'm not sure the navy ever will be again.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  SURVIVORS

  SURVIVORS

  “Aaron why are you----?” Harold was helping another man off the floor when he noticed Aaron was dripping wet.

  “The explosion hit the jolly boat about to come aboard,” Aaron rolled over, slowly sitting up. “Where's Lola?”

  “Lola,” Harold suddenly remembered, looking toward the cabin where she had been.

  Wesley appeared behind them, panting frantically. From the look on his face, he was wounded, although Aaron couldn't tell where. Without speaking, they silently moved in unison forward, toward the collapsed steps that would have led to where Lola was hiding. Shauna grabbed his hand, trying to see through the destruction. There was wood everywhere, but no screaming, no struggling, which made Aaron's heart pound.

  Wesley lunged toward the wreckage. “Matheson! Corrigan! Lola!” he screamed and Harold grabbed him.

  “Stop! What if there is another explosion?”

  “Then we are done for anyways,” Wesley said. “Start digging. Uh---” he put his hand to his stomach and Aaron recognized the jerky movements.

  “Wesley, did you get hit somewhere?” he asked. “Are you wounded?”

  “I'm fine, find Lola,” Wesley cried as more men came to help.

  “Wesley,” Aaron grabbed him. “You're no good to her dead...” He pulled away when he realized there was blood on his hand. Wesley turned at just the right angle, and Aaron could see that his white shirt was flooded red. “Wesley!”

  “HELP!” Suddenly, Lola's cry pierced the air. “HELP!”

  “Lola,” Wesley seemed so relieved to hear her voice that his shoulders slumped. “Are you alright?”

  “Can you set us free?”

  “I think so,” Wesley's eyes were already calculating the angles that the wood had fallen. “I need you to back away, as far from the ladder as possible, alright? If we lift wood out of there, it might dislodge something else.”

  “Wesley?” Matheson voice came, the calm voice of a Navy Father, despite the circumstances. “I would hurry, if I was you.”

  “Why?” Wesley's legs were wavering, and Aaron felt his own heart pounding.

  “Just hurry,” Matheson said, and it sent everyone into a panic.

  “Lift that beam,” Wesley pointed to the sailors that were still able to stand. “And then that one. Do it carefully, or the floor could come down on them.”

  “Matheson, is anyone with you? Is Corrigan alright?”

  “I'm fine, sir!” Corrigan's voice came. “But hurry! It's bloody unpleasant down here!”

  “Can we send for a doctor?” Harold asked. “Are there any jolly boats left that we can take? Do you need a doctor?”

  “Yes,” Matheson said flatly. “Yes.”

  “Oh God,” Wesley said, and Aaron thought he was reacting to what he was hearing. Then his knees wavered and he sank to the floor. Aaron went to grab him, but his hands were shaking too hard. “Don't move the beams too fast.”

  “Can you stop lying to me?” Aaron said softly to Wesley. “I'm your best friend, am I not?”

  “You are,” Wesley gritted his teeth against the pain. “But she is my soulmate and I have to focus. Your soulmate is beside you; you know nothing of this trauma.”

  “I know a few things,” Aaron replied numbly as Shauna gripped his hands.

  When the last beam finally came up, it revealed a massive hole, and much more debris. What scared Aaron the most was when the cries went silent. Whether they heard that they were helping and stopped calling out or whether they were injured, no one knew. However, once the massive beam was lifted, Wesley stumbled forward.

  Lola, Matheson and Corrigan were sitting on the floor, looking mostly shell shocked. The two men looked mostly unharmed, but Lola was trembling. Matheson had his arms around her, and she resembled a young child, frightened out of her mind.

  “Here,” Wesley put his arm out, but then he hissed in pain. “Harold?”

  “I'm here,” Harold said and leaned forward. “Grab my hand.”

  “We can do that,” Matheson said. “But the little miss isn't going to be able to. Her arms are pretty torn up.”

  “Alright, hold on,” Harold looked around, and Wesley pointed to the rope that Aaron had used to climb, sopping wet on the deck.

  “A new adventure, they said,” Aaron called down to Lola, trying to connect with his childhood best friend. “It will be fun, a memory for a lifetime.”

  “I've been through worse,” Lola's flat voice came up through the hole. “For example, last time you were all docked.”

  “Try to be positive,” Aaron managed. “We are in pretty bad shape up here too.”

  “Forever bonded,” Lola answered.

  The best method was to loop it around her waist and pull her up, gently and slowly. Lola was strong, she had been through a lot, but she couldn't help but have tears slip down her face as she met eyes with Wesley. When she reached the deck, he wrapped his arms around her, panting with pain.

  “I hate the navy,” she said, burying her face against his shoulder.

  Matheson and Corrigan, although shell-shocked, were mostly uninjured. Lola clung close to Wesley, who was trembling himself. Aaron had never seen Wesley show such weakness in body as right now.

  “This is not the navy's fault, Lola,” Wesley said. “Someone did this to us.”

  “It was the gun powder store,” Matheson said, trying to stay calm. “It blew, Sir, there must have been a spark.”

  “How?” Harold said. “How could there have been a spark?”

  “Sir, with all due respect, there were so many people on board, so many members of the public who were not regulated, not careful.”

  “We were watching them,” Harold said. “We had men everywhere, acting as guides standing guard. When we are at sea, there are careless men all the time, lighting cigars, tripping over cannons. We've never had anything like this happen, ever.”

  “This morning,” Aaron said. “This morning, Matheson and Corrigan were in jail for being mugged. Mugged for dispatches they didn't have. They defended themselves, and it turned into a fist fight.”

  “Dispatches?” Harold said. “No offense gentlemen, but you...”

  “Wouldn't be carrying dispatches,” Matheson said. “I know that and you know that. But they didn't seem to care.”

  “Did you interrogate the man?” Aaron turned to Wesley. “The war protester?"

  “Couldn't,” Wesley said, his jaw set.

  “Why?” Aaron responded.

  “Because when I got to the jail, he sat on his sword,” Wesley replied. “He hadn't even been charged yet. Why would he do that?”

  “Something is going on,” Harold said, and Wesley actually rolled his eyes.

  �
��Of course it is,” he said. “I just can't figure out...what....” His face lost color then and he slumped down. Lola screamed, pulling back. Her dress was covered in blood, where Wesley's stomach would have pressed against her.

  “Harold,” Aaron said, and then felt his entire body begin to shake.

  “My love,” Shauna's arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. “My love.”

  It wasn't bad; he was able to stay conscious mostly. However, he wasn't in control of his body, and as long as he kept getting in these violent physical situations, he wouldn't be able to stay in control.

  It was Harold who ripped opened Wesley's shirt and found the wound. There was a giant wood splinter plunged into his stomach, causing the bleeding. Harold had seen worse wounds, but this one wasn't good. He looked a bit overwhelmed, between Wesley bleeding, Lola crying, the chaos that was happening around them, and Aaron coming down from a fit.

  The usual lightheadedness of the aftermath came to Aaron, but he fought for consciousness; fought to smile. “Alright, Harold?”

  “We need to gather any medical personnel here,” Harold commanded and tried to take charge. “We need the civilians off the ship; anyone who can't be useful. There are more injuries than we can deal with, and too many people. We can't think around this chaos.”

  “Aaron,” Shauna said. “We need to get you both off this ship.”

  “We need to figure this out, Shauna. Nobody is safe, nothing is safe. You can't keep working here.”

  “Do you think they'll shut it down?” Shauna asked.

  “No,” he said. “We've been in these situations before. Until we have concrete proof, they always believe that it's an accident, unconnected. They believe that nothing is malicious until proven otherwise. It's easier for Navy HQ to let other people do the work.”

  “I won't abandon you,” Shauna said. “I can't abandon you.”

  “Shauna, I need you to be safe,” Aaron said softly. “I can't live with myself if you're not safe.”

  “I'm not going to abandon you,” Shauna repeated. “We are strong apart, we have to be. But we are stronger together.”