How To Love A Fake Prince

by Jasmine Ashford

  He got up, crossing the grass until he stood nearly inches from Wesley. He was taller than him, stronger than him, his black eyes locking gazes with the Irish Lord. Moving very slowly, he picked up his left hand.

  Wesley was so pale by nature that the indent of a wedding ring, the tan line, was still burned into his skin. Moreover, Enola was surprised to see, it was recent.

  “No wife?” her father asked again.

  Wesley pulled back, caught. “We are apart,” he said plainly. “No more.”

  He turned to Enola, shaking his head. “No,” he said.

  “No?” Enola asked. “No what?”

  “No,” he spoke clearly, in English. “No, I do not trust a man who leaves his wife. I will not collaborate.”

  Her eyes went wide in shock. “Father, it's just...” She looked to Wesley, who quivered in shock and anger. “No, I know his wife. I know her. She is a good woman, but they ....miss each other a lot. It's so hard. War is hard. They are opposites. Please.”

  “Opposites?” he asked.

  “She's an actress,” Enola said, hoping he would understand. “On the stage. Plays. Theatre.”

  He understood that, shifting his gaze back to Wesley.

  “Sir, I do not appreciate---” Wesley started, but Enola grabbed his wrist, glaring at him and shaking her head. Now was not the time for his temper to flare up. Wesley, to his credit, fell silent.

  “You are of noble birth,” her father, ever observant, said.

  “That's part of the problem,” Wesley said at last. “We are very different.”

  Her father laughed. “Why not invite Americans to see a play?” he asked, sitting back down. The moment was broken. “And then, as they watched, mesmerized, boom.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, that's...” Wesley suddenly stopped, his eyes on fire. “Actually...”

  Enola's jaw hung open. “You can't be serious,” she said.

  Wesley took a step forward, looking the chief in the eyes. “Would your people be willing to participate?”

  “In war?” he asked. “Yes.”

  “In a play?” Wesley asked. “My wife's theatre seats a thousand; it's the biggest theatre in the colonies. If we could slaughter them there, unexpectedly, unarmed and unaware, it would drastically reduce their numbers and lower their morale.”

  Her father turned to Enola, who rapidly translated. The chief took a moment. “Now you are serious?” he asked at last.

  “It's brilliant and it's better than dying on a battlefield. Contained, knowing our territory. We will suddenly have the advantage.”

  She translated for the chief, not wanting a single word of it to be missed.

  “This is better than your other plan?” HER father asked. Wesley cocked an eyebrow.

  “Maybe?” he said. “It's a better chance of survival, at least.”

  “Yes,” her father said. The silence had been so long that Enola was worried he was going to propose another sweat lodge. Clearly, he had decided last night was a bad enough omen. Everything was dangerous in this war. The war needed to end. “Yes.”

  “Great,” Wesley answered.

  “Can you...not to doubt your confidence, but can you do that?” Enola asked.

  “The planning of such a surprise attack would not be hard,” Wesley answered. “The hard part will be convincing Lord....convincing Captain Halloway to agree.”

  “Why would he not agree?”

  “His best friend in the middle of yet another murder plot?” Wesley answered. “It'll be a never ending tale. Will your Major Holde agree?”

  “So long as he doesn't have to eat raspberries and sing on stage,” she answered dryly.

  This was not exactly the kind of help she had envisioned when she came to her father. However, if this was what Wesley determined was the best plan, she was determined to go along with it.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night, she had found herself dreaming of a future that was after the war. A future of peace in the world. Moreover, in that future, she had found herself and Major Holde standing together in a field, their hands entwined, and dark-haired, light-skinned children around them.

  She wasn't exactly sure if that was what she wanted. Nevertheless, she wanted the opportunity to find out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MAKING BIG PLANS FOR A PLAY

  MAKING BIG PLANS FOR A PLAY

  He wants to do what?” Holde asked, half an hour later. Enola had insisted he stay in bed, and he wasn't going to resist a morning off. Besides, if Wesley's plan went through, they certainly weren't going to have any time off later. “Blimey.”

  Enola perched at the end of his bed, playing with her braid. “It's possible that he was drunk, but he seemed pretty serious.”

  “Holy God,” Holde answered, shaking his head. “That's a first.”

  “He was apparently known as the best strategist in the Navy, once upon a time.”

  “Once upon a time?” Holde asked. “Five years ago, at most. As soon as I realized who he really was, I made sure that I checked myself. He was anticipated to go down in history.”

  “And now he is a pirate,” Enola said with a shy smile. “Life changes people.”

  “Time changes people,” Holde corrected as he sat up a bit more. “Shall I join them, doctor?”

  She blushed. 'I'm not a doctor,” she answered.

  “Well, you saved my life last night.”

  “I only did what I thought was right,” she replied. “And luckily, it was. But I realized there is still so much that I don't know.”

  “And would you like to learn that?”

  “Oh.” She hadn't expected that question. “Yes. I would like to advance my healing skills as long as possible.”

  “After the war?”

  “I can't think of after the war,” she lied to him, even though she had spent half the night in that dream. “I can only think of now. And now, for you, you can join them, slowly.”

  “Thank you.” He leaned forward and kissed her head. It was mostly out of instinct, but she thought it was nice.

  Holde was only halfway to the door when she heard Aaron's voice.

  “Are you mad?”

  “Oh Creator,” she scrambled up. “He'll throw himself into a fit with that behavior.”

  She scrambled out to find Aaron angrier than she had ever seen him. Facing off with Wesley like his life depended on it, he was bright red in the face. She could see Harold and Annabelle tearing across the field, alarmed.

  “Just because you have a death wish does not give you the right to touch her! You will not---”

  “Aaron! Aaron!” Harold grabbed him before he even took a swing at him. “Aaron, what the hell are you on about?”

  “Listen to Wesley's plan,” Aaron struggled. “Let go of me, I'm not going to hit him.”

  “Come here, you hot head,” Annabelle grabbed her brother. “Wesley?”

  “Even with the Natives,” Wesley said. “We are still outnumbered by several hundred. But if Lola can lure them into a corporate booking, so to speak, in the thousand-seat theatre, and we sneak attack them, we would overcome that advantage and destroy their morale.”

  “And put Lola in the center of it all,” Aaron said. “Because he doesn't care about her life anymore.”

  “That's not true,” Wesley answered. “I'm being realistic. This is our best chance. Who’s with me?”

  No one dared move. Wesley was a well respected figure, but he was not the captain. Every man there knew the danger of swearing fealty to some other leader.

  “What makes you think she'll agree to that?” Annabelle asked.

  “She'll agree to it,” Aaron replied. “Of course she will. It's Lola.”

  Harold said nothing for a long while, and Aaron turned to him. “Are you just going to remain silent then?”

  “I---” Harold cocked his head. “It is a good plan.”

  “What's happening?”

  Enola turned to find Jacob at her back. “Where have you
been?”

  “Sending a letter,” he answered with a shrug. “Went into town this morning.”

  “To Mary again?” she asked. “Jacob, wait for her to answer you first, or it looks...obsessive.”

  He smirked, shaking his head.

  “Well, I've done it. Why are they screaming?”

  His jaw dropped when she outlined the plan. Like everyone, shock was the first response.

  “Really?” he asked. “That's...different. But I can see the strategic advance, and so will the colonel.”

  “Are plans often called ridiculous before they succeed?” Enola asked him.

  “I didn't call it ridiculous,” he answered. “It will be fun, at least.”

  “Fun?” she raised an eyebrow. “Fun is not how we describe war, Jacob.”

  “I see Holde is still standing,” Jacob said, after a few moments. “That's good.”

  “He'll live,” Enola said. “Although I've never seen anything like that. I think it was the charcoal, but that doesn't make sense, considering it wasn't poison.”

  “He's alright now, Enola, don't dwell on it,” Jacob answered. He cleared his throat. “Gentlemen,” he said, drawing their attention toward him. “I understand there's much to discuss in this radical plan.”

  “If we don't kill each other first,” Holde said, half cheerily. “I assume that if you've suggested this, you have the strategy?”

  “I'd have to see her theatre again,” Wesley answered, standing on guard in case Aaron decided that hitting him was still the best idea. “But I've spent enough time in theatres with her. They are all the same.”

  “Let's discuss,” Harold said. “Like adults, not drunken bar mates, alright? Gentlemen?”

  “Please include my father,” Enola said. “I can translate.”

  “Of course,” Harold, ever the diplomat, said. “Annabelle, I'll join you later?”

  “I should be involved,” Annabelle said, and they turned to her in shock. “If you are going to put on a fake play, stage the theatre with fake crew and cast, you'll need women. You can't have all men; they will be suspicious.”

  “Annabelle, it's too dangerous,” Harold said.

  “It's my war as much as yours,” she stated and locked eyes with him.

  “What about our children? Our children need a parent.”

  “Our children need two parents,” Annabelle answered. “One will leave them lacking.”

  “Annabelle,” Aaron tried to convince her. “Should something happen to us, you will be the last of the Bamber line. You have to stay and...”

  “I will not stand by and let both of you die when I can do something to help,” she cried.

  Enola stepped forward, taking her arm. It wasn't to draw her away, though, but to push her slightly forward. “Women have a right to contribute as much as men,” she said. “It may be in different ways, but we do have a right. If I can translate for you, if I had to...” She didn't want to blurt out marry, so she chose a different word. “Do my part, so can Annabelle.”

  Harold and Aaron looked at each other, and Annabelle threw up her hands. “For God’s sake, you're even involving Lola. Don't let me be the only one to sit out.”

  “I don't like this,” Harold warned her. Annabelle took his arm, squeezing tight.

  “There's a lot I don't like either. We learn to make the best of it.”

  “Thank you for not throwing a fit,” Enola said to Holde when they decided to meet outside around the campfire.

  “About what?” Holde asked.

  “For my involvement,” she replied and he reacted with a bit of shock.

  “I wouldn't ever,” he said. “Theresa worked, as you know, and I believe that women have a place as much as men. If you are truly capable, I would never say otherwise.”

  “So many believe differently,” she answered as she followed him to the fire.

  “Well, I'm not so many,” he responded with a smile. “I'm just me.”

  “And I'm glad of it.” She leaned against him for a moment, showing support before they took a seat.

  It was several hours’ worth of discussions. Wesley was more open to suggestions than anyone thought, drawing in the dirt, and redrawing every time they suggested a new strategy.

  “One thing is for sure,” Jacob said to Enola that night as they went to the river to get fresh water. It was a task that he used to help her with when they were children. It brought back memories of her insisting that she could do it, and him stunned, for he had never seen a woman so strong or so independent. “They will never expect it.”

  “They would expect it more if the animals came out of the forest and started shooting at them,” she replied.

  “Mary is going to have a ball over this,” Jacob said. “She will also be nervous if I ever take her to the theatre.”

  “Why should she be nervous? She's not American.”

  “Do you want me to carry that?” he asked, exactly how he used to when they were children.

  “No, I'm alright, carry your own,” she replied, the same as she used to respond. “I'm only bringing this one back, and then I'm going to bed.”

  “Whose bed?”

  “Jacob!” She turned to him in shock.

  “I want to know in case we need you in a hurry,” he answered seriously. “Why do you assume that there's something scandalous?”

  “I just...”

  “If you want people to believe that you are married to him, you can't shriek every time someone suggests that you are in love.”

  “That's why I react that way,” Jacob was her best friend and she wasn't going to hide anything from him. “I do have feelings for him. I just...don't really know where to go with him. And you know, Jacob, I always like to know my path.”

  “Mmm,” he replied as they walked. “Well, for now, your path leads to the theatre, and a fake play. Hamlet always was my favorite.”

  “I hope you marry Mary when this is over,” she said to him. “So at least one of us has a normal love story.”

  He fell silent on that and she felt like there was something wrong.

  “Jacob?” she asked. “Are you alright?”

  “It's nothing,” he said. “I was just thinking of where Mary was tonight, and what she is doing.”

  “Probably sleeping,” she answered and he laughed.

  “You are right about that, I'd bet a sixpence on it.”

  They left the water buckets by the fire and bid each other goodnight. Enola stood by the campfire for a while, and then chose her path and headed toward Holde's tent. She wanted to make sure he was alright, hold his hands, and feel the rising of his chest again. She wanted to greet the dawn with him, rise and meet the day together rather than apart.

  “I was waiting for you,” he said, when she ducked inside finally. “It's so cold tonight.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “I'm sorry; I was just speaking to Jacob.”

  “That's alright,” he said, sitting on the bed. “Do you need me to promise to be a gentleman again?”

  “If you wouldn't mind,” she said as she sat on the bed beside him. “I'm not...ready for a proper marriage quite yet. But maybe one day.”

  “Maybe one day, when you are ready, so will I be,” he said, squeezing her hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  FACING LOLA

  FACING LOLA

  Oh my,” were the words out of Lola's mouth when they approached her. “Are you serious?”

  They had marched back exactly the way they’d come, with the Native warriors not far behind this time. It felt a bit counterproductive to Enola, but then, she wasn't in charge of strategy. She tried to focus on the march, on being close to Patrick whenever she could. He didn't seem to mind public displays of affection and took her hand at every opportunity. There wasn't a person on that march who didn't see them giving each other strength throughout; who didn't observe them locking eyes or whispering to each other. He had been slower on the way out, and Enola suspected that he was still feeling the e
ffects of the raspberry reaction, although he didn't say much in regards to it. Rather, he laid a hand on her shoulder, or an arm around her neck, drawing strength from her determination.

  Now that they were in front of the theatre, all hopes rested on Lola.

  “We wouldn't have come back if we weren't,” Wesley's words weren't meant to be mean, but truthful. “This is the best course of action.”

  “Oh my,” she repeated, putting her hands over her face. “This could destroy my reputation. I could be seen as a heroine, but it could likely backfire.”

  “This is war,” Wesley said. “No one will talk about your reputation if it succeeds.”

  “So you want me to approach the manager of the theatre? For a private rental?” she asked.

  “The military can put up the fee for a rental,” Jacob assured her. “The colonel already approved the plan this morning.”

  “Did he throw in the fact that you might be mad?” she asked.

  Jacob smirked. “It's possible he did, yes. In any case, it's approved spending.”

  “You don't think we should just...” Lola paused. “Ask the manager? He's a loyal British subject.”

  “The less people who know about this plan,” he answered. “The better. Isn't that right, Wesley?”

  “Yes,” Wesley said. “We have to make this look like a surprise attack.”

  “My people will be willing to work in any position,” Enola replied. “But they are actually skilled in performance.”

  “Yes, I've seen some the amazing performances they put on,” Lola said. “I can be sure to use it. But when do you want to do this?”

  “As soon as possible,” Wesley said. “I'd want to see the blueprints for the theatre, make sure I've got all the entrances and exits covered. Then there's the invitation to the Americans. So...a week?”

  “A week?” Lola answered, aghast. “Do you know it takes us three months to rehearse a show?”

  “Find out what dates are available to be rented,” Wesley said. “And we will work on the American invitation.”