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

by Jasmine Ashford

  “They have a pretty daughter who showed me around once or twice,” he replied with a shrug. “I doubt they are behind this, though. More likely, your Irish buggers have just paid extra for them to keep their mouths shut. It's that kind of place.”

  “Right.” Aaron brought the candle closer as the light began to fade.

  He and Harold spent nearly an hour going over it, and then going over it again. There were lots of entrances and exits; which was both good and bad. If they had other colleagues waiting, Aaron could be risking his life entering the place. However, if they were alone, he could swoop in and get Gwendolyn, and have plenty of means to escape.

  Lola returned an hour later, with a gentleman behind her. Aaron was surprised at the resemblance; she had done well. The body type was the same, as well as the golden blond hair and flashing blue eyes. From a distance, this man could be him.

  “Hello sir,” the man dipped. “My name is James. I understand that you have a job for me?”

  “I do,” Aaron said. “Lola has explained?”

  “She has, and it sounds like an amazing opportunity,” James said.

  Aaron's eyes flashed. “You understand the ramifications of this? This is a dangerous job, and lives are at stake here.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” he said. “Acting on stage is safe, and a bit boring. This is where the excitement is at. Besides, I've done these sorts of things before.”

  “You have?” It was Aaron's turn to be surprised

  “Of course. You aren't the first lord to hire a decoy,” James replied. “To ride in a carriage, to be seen from a distance, there are many reasons a lord might want to give the impression that he was somewhere.”

  “I see,” he said. “Lola, congratulations. I trust you can prepare him the rest of the way?”

  “When I'm done with him,” she replied. “Even Shauna will think this is you.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Shauna replied, rolling her eyes. “The clock is ticking, Aaron. And every moment we delay is a moment that Gwendolyn can be hurt. Tell me what part I am to play.”

  “No, you must stay here,” Aaron said in a panic. “It's not safe.”

  “I am her mother,” Shauna fixed him with a stare. “I will not sit back while she is in harm’s way.”

  “It is dangerous for both of you to be in the same place at the same time,” Harold spoke up. “At least separate.”

  “Fine.” Shauna turned to the actor. “I will go with you to the pub; it will be more believable that way.”

  Aaron wanted to protest; he wanted to stop her. Shauna was everything to him; he couldn't lose her. He was sure that the reason his heart beat at all was knowing that she was somewhere in the world, alive and safe. Even though they were separate, it was if he could feel her very presence in the world.

  However, part of the reason he loved Shauna was for her energy. She was strong, involved, and passionate, all things that he admired. He could not turn down that trait now. “I will bring our daughter safe to you,” he promised, and she nodded.

  “Yes,” she said. “You will.”

  Within the next hour, they had formulated the plan. James and Shauna would go to the Golden Sheep with a bag of money. When they were sure they were being watched, he would fake a fit, drawing attention from all over the tavern and delaying the situation. Shauna would eventually rush him out. Whoever was there to collect the money would hopefully linger, unsure and confused about how to proceed. With everyone watching them, it would be hard to attack, and hopefully, Shauna would be safe.

  Aaron, Harold, Lola, Matheson and Corrigan would head to the Dolcetti, posing as friends on a drunken night out. Lola would draw attention to herself, giving them the opportunity to sneak off.

  Annabelle would remain at home, in the hopes that Gwendolyn would be returned safely by chance or more evidence would arrive.

  It was a hastily made plan, and one that no one fully liked. However, they didn't have much choice, and time was running out. Carriages were called, clothes were changed, and goodbyes were said.

  Just before Shauna got into the first carriage, Aaron grabbed her arm. “In case I don't see you again,” he said. “I am leaving all of this to you and Gwendolyn. Annabelle will understand, so long as her standard of living is kept, I'm sure. This is your future home.”

  “Aaron,” Shauna looked him right in the eye, no nonsense as always. “If you want to do that, you have to marry me.”

  “Do you not see how dangerous this all is?” he protested. “Do you not see what you go through daily? If you married me, you'd be the public heir, instead of just a secret one. And do you really want a husband---”

  “Who is strong?” she asked. “Who stands up for what he believes in, overcomes the challenges that life gives him, and makes sure he is the best possible father to his daughter? Yes, Aaron, that is something I want. Therefore, when we are all together again, and we will all be together again, you will marry me and we will be an official family. Is that clear?”

  Her voice was strong, and everyone around them heard, without a doubt. Lola's jaw dropped and Harold raised an eyebrow.

  Aaron took her hand and kissed it, slipping his signet ring onto her finger. “Yes, Shauna,” he promised. “I will marry you.”

  “Excellent,” she said. “I will see you soon.”

  She got into the first carriage, and the horses galloped off into the setting sun.

  “Did she ask you?” Lola said with a grin. “That isn't how things normally go.”

  Aaron smiled for the first time since everything happened. “It isn't,” he replied. “But then, what about Shauna and I have been how things normally go?”

  “This is true,” Lola replied. “Now, get in the carriage.”

  He did as he was told, his head still spinning.

  “Annabelle asked me the same way,” Harold reminded him. “It's not so unusual.”

  “No,” he said. “The world is changing, I suppose. I want Gwendolyn involved in our wedding. I can picture it now. I pray to God...”

  “She will be safe,” Lola promised him. “Tonight, this will just be a memory.”

  “A story to tell your grandchildren,” Matheson said, and Aaron tried to smile.

  The ride to the Dolcetti was long, and it was exactly how Aaron remembered it to be, the few times he had passed it. There was the broken down exterior outside, the wood that badly needed repairing. There were a few people outside who looked deep into their cups already, and laughter inside.

  “This is no place for my daughter,” Aaron said as he got out of the carriage. “How dare they take her here?”

  “I think that's the point,” Harold said. “That it is no place for the child of a lord, so no one would think to look here. Even if we had gone to the police, they certainly wouldn't start their search here.”

  “I'll go in the front door,” Lola said. “Corrigan, Harold, come with me. One on each arm.”

  “Miss Lola,” Corrigan said with a grin. “What an offer. I can't refuse.”

  “Matheson, you're with me; you know the way,” Aaron said, looking to the left side. Sure enough, the door was there that Corrigan had once snuck out of. “Good luck.”

  “Good luck to you,” Harold said. “Remember, if you encounter danger you can't handle, just yell. We'll be up in a hurry.”

  Aaron felt like he couldn't handle anything at this moment. Nevertheless, he knew that he had to do this, so he held his head high. It was time to rescue his secret child, his heir, even if it meant laying down his life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE DOLCETTI

  THE DOLCETTI

  He heard Lola's strong voice in the main hallway, greeting just about everyone in the bar. She gave a fake name, but it didn't seem to matter. Her energy matched the wildness inside, and he heard a tune starting up. How anyone got rest in the rooms upstairs was absolutely beyond him. Then again, people didn't usually come to these sorts of places for rest. They came
for a good time or to hide out.

  As soon as he was sure the music would cover the creak of the door, he slowly pushed it open, glancing through the crack. There was no one in the empty hallway, and he stepped inside, Matheson on his tail. He had a knife in his boot, and another in his jacket, and he would use them if he had to. He was just hoping that it wouldn't come to that. He wanted both to see justice for what they had done to Gwendolyn.

  “Matheson?” he breathed, as Matheson took in his surroundings.

  “Right, last time I had to drag Corrigan out of there, it was from these stairs.” Matheson pointed to a small curvy staircase on his right. It was clearly for the family, or the servants. It wound around a dark corner and went out of sight. “It will take you right upstairs. There is a door that separates the rooms for the family from the main rooms, but it's thin and mostly useless. It will give us a good hiding place if these Irish rogues are anywhere on the other side.”

  “Right,” Aaron clutched the knife inside his jacket. “If they are upstairs...”

  “They won't be,” Matheson said confidently. “It's a small family operation. They are all trying to run the bar right now.”

  Aaron took a deep breath, and put one foot on the stairs. He focused on the darkness above, and cocked his ear, trying to hear about the noise from the main bar. As far as he could tell, it was completely quiet up there.

  He put another foot on the stairs, and then another and another, until he found himself at the top. He heard Matheson right behind him, but he didn't turn around. He scanned the area, looking for signs of life.

  It was exactly as Matheson had described. There were three rooms in this little hallway, separated by a flimsy door that didn't close right. On the other side, the hallway was longer, and there were several rooms. He put one foot down, making sure it didn't creak.

  The doors to the rooms owned by the family were closed, which meant he had no way of knowing whether they were inside or not. He hoped that they weren't. They were innocents in all of this; trying to make a living. They may accept money under the table, but he hoped they were better people than to willingly hide a kidnapped child.

  One of the doors was opened a crack and he couldn't help but peek into it. Inside was clearly a child's room. There were toys and a rocking horse. An unmade bed and a scattered pillow made it look like at the child had just left.

  Aaron was oddly fascinated by this sight. He didn't have a room in his house that looked like that. At least, there hadn't been a room like that since he and Annabelle were children.

  However, there should be a room like that for Gwendolyn. He wanted her to have a refuge of her own, to play, to laugh, to relax. Everyone should have a refuge. His was Shauna's arms, the calm sea breeze, the midnight moon.

  “Sir,” Matheson whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder to remind him of his task. “Keep walking.”

  “Right,” Aaron tore himself away from the sight. He took a step forward, and then another.

  Soon, he found himself at the door. He peered through the crack, but there was no one on the other side. Everyone was downstairs, enjoying the festivities.

  Carefully, he swung it open. It made a noise that sounded like a cat dying, and he gritted his teeth. Luckily, it went unheard in the loud inn. After making sure the coast was clear, he stepped forward.

  It was brighter in the guest hallway; the candlelight flooding in from downstairs. Sound seemed to bounce oddly in the house, and Aaron did a double take several times to make sure that no one was right on the stairs.

  Matheson went to a door and jiggled the handle. It was locked, as Aaron had expected it would be. He followed Matheson' silent lead and tried another handle, subtly. They were all locked.

  He sucked in a breath, but Matheson was already pulling out a pin.

  “Always come prepared, sir,” he mouthed, bending down to the first door.

  Aaron decided he didn't want to know where Matheson had learned to pick a lock.

  The hallways were dusty, and the one window was filthy. The tavern clearly hadn't been cleaned in a while, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Aaron resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his pants as he crouched down by Matheson.

  “There are 10 doors here,” he said. “We'll never have time to open every one before someone comes upstairs.”

  “Don't lose faith, sir,” Matheson said as the first one clicked open.

  Aaron pushed it open, not caring who was inside. If it was a startled guest, he was simply prepared to apologize, and move on. However, the room was empty, and held no evidence that anyone was staying there at all.

  “Damn,” he pointed to the next door. “Hurry, Matheson.”

  “Going as fast as I can, sir,” Matheson replied, gritting his teeth. “This is an art.”

  “I know,” Aaron replied. “I know. Just please hurry.”

  If he knew for sure no one would hear him, he would be screaming out Gwendolyn's name down the hallway. This wasn't exactly the safest place to do so, so he stayed quiet, his ears cocked for anything that might be his daughter.

  Each open and empty room dropped his heart a little bit further. He paced the hallway, checking each room thoroughly while Matheson worked on the new locks. They eventually came down to one, and Aaron had lost all hope.

  “Where else could she be?” he asked. “Is there another space in here? If she was downstairs, Lola would have alerted us.”

  “There are the kitchens,” Matheson said as he jiggled the pin. “But those are very busy places. A child would just get in the way.”

  “But maybe no one would suspect.” Aaron started as the last lock clicked open. Matheson pushed the door open.

  Sure enough, in the dim light from the moon, looking terrified, was Gwendolyn. She was bound and gagged, sitting up against the wall. Tears streaked her face, and the ropes were rubbing her skin raw.

  Her eyes widened in fear when she saw the door open. However, when she saw that it was Aaron, her fear turned to shock. She said something, but the gag stopped her from being articulate.

  He rushed forward, untying the gag. “It's okay, I'm here,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. As soon as the cloth fell from her mouth, he expected her to cry, to sob. She was his daughter, though, and she had a sense of adventure.

  “I know how to get out,” she said. “But they tied me up, because I tried to escape.”

  “That's my girl,” he said, reaching for his knife and cutting the ropes. “Which way did you go?”

  “Through the backstairs,” she said. “Is Mother here?”

  “No, your mother is working on another part of ...this plan,” he said. “Was it the lady and the man who took you? The Irish ones?”

  “Yes,” Gwendolyn said. “From the camp. They were nice to me in the carriage, but I also had no choice. I knew I shouldn't be going with them.”

  “That's right,” he murmured and helped her stand. “We're probably going to use the backstairs to escape as well. You have to be very quiet. And once we are outside, run for the carriage and run fast. Don't stop for anything. Do you understand?”

  “You're so brave,” she said. “And you're my father, aren't you?”

  “I...” he paused. Shauna clearly hadn't confirmed that bit of information. However, there was enough talk going around that she had put the pieces together. That, or she had looked in the mirror. Aaron thought that she looked exactly like Annabelle when she was younger. “Do you want me to be?”

  “Of course, I want you to be,” she replied. “But are you?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I am.”

  “I thought so,” she said and crept toward the door. “Because Mother loves you so much. And she talks about you all the time.”

  “She does?” Aaron asked in shock. They really shouldn't be talking right now, but he was fascinated by the topic.

  “Yes,” she said. “Even on the carriage ride to the camp on the first day, she kept saying how she hoped you would be there. And you exchange so
many letters. She tries to hide them from me, but I know.”

  “Well, aren't you clever,” Aaron replied. “However, I expected nothing less.”

  “Sir,” Matheson interrupted. “We really should get going.”

  “Right,” Aaron bent down to swoop up Gwendolyn. She pushed him away.

  “I can run faster if you aren't carrying me.”

  “Of course,” Aaron replied. “Let's go.” His heart was hammering in his chest. He thought that they were free and clear. He was already congratulating himself on the success of his plan when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

  He put a hand on Gwendolyn's shoulder, stopping her from moving. Matheson turned around, his gun drawn. Aaron gripped the knife he had used to cut the ropes.

  To his relief, it was only Lola on the stairs, looking at them inquisitively.

  “Oh, it's you,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “You scared me.”

  “I was just coming to see what was taking you so long,” she said. “And if you had died. Hello, Gwendolyn.”

  “Hello, Lola,” Gwendolyn said, a bit too cheerfully. “We are escaping.”

  “Yes, you are,” Lola said. “And you better---” She stopped talking too. There were more footsteps on the stairs, and they were moving fast.

  Lola spun around and her eyes widened. “Miss Marks,” she said, warning them. “Fancy seeing you here! What a coincidence.”

  They didn't even have time to run. Marianne, or Mary, as Wesley had called her, came to the top of the stairs in a hurry. The man who Aaron assumed was her husband Don was on her heels.

  He stepped in front of Gwendolyn, his jaw set. Seeing the standoff, Don did the only thing he thought logical. He grabbed Lola, holding a knife to her throat. The actress shrieked and he pushed harder against her neck. “Trying to steal my prize without the ransom, Lord Bamber?” he asked. “That's not very nice.”

  “Aaron, go, run,” Lola struggled, but she wasn't anywhere near strong enough. Don had a firm grip on her, and one wrong move would mean her throat was sliced.

  Aaron tensed, his grip on the knife making him go white knuckled.