How To Love A Fake Prince

by Jasmine Ashford

  “Could I not be Captain Halloway?” he asked, the name he used on the pirate ship.

  “No,” Wesley replied, giving him a look.

  “Letts,” he said at last. “Captain Jonah Letts, from Spain.”

  “Oh, that's right, you can speak Spanish,” Lola remembered. “Hopefully you don't run into any actual Spaniards.”

  “Do you think that will work?”

  “It should,” Wesley said. “Just stay quiet, and try not to make eyes at your wife too much.”

  “Have you seen my wife?” Aaron asked, and Wesley rolled his eyes.

  The palace was in full grandeur for the ball. Everything was decorated to the nines, with candles and tinsel. There was music playing from what appeared to be several different orchestras, and everyone was dressed in splendor. Lola observed several coronets, crowns and people dipping to bow to each other.

  It was a world that she didn't know at all, but marrying Wesley meant that she should. Wesley looked uncomfortable, clenching his jaw as the carriage stopped, and the door was thrown open.

  Lola had chosen a hand held mask, and didn't bother putting it up as they exited the carriage. Wesley took her arm, helping her out, and she looked around the swirling crowds. She was used to grandeur, but this was far above any theater ball.

  “Captain Letts,” she said to Aaron as they approached the footman who would announce them. “Welcome to the palace.”

  He dipped his head, but didn't say anything, scanning the room below them.

  “Captain Letts of Spain,” bellowed the footman. “Earl and Countess of Rippon!”

  Heads turned at that announcement, and Lola could hear whispering.

  She leaned over to Wesley as they walked.

  “He might as well have said the actress whore,” she said and Wesley squeezed her hand.

  “Have some decency,” he said.

  “That was putting it decently,” she said, as they got down to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Lord and Lady Bamber,” came the announcement, and they turned as their friends were announced.

  “Dowager Lady Bamber and the Honorable Gwendolyn Bamber,” came the second announcement.

  Heads turned at that. Technically, they were disgraced, the head of the household a traitor. However, there was less judgment for a widow and small child, especially of a title that had been a favorite of the King.

  “So far, so good,” Lola said, as the rest of their group joined them. “It looks like we may have managed to pull this off.”

  “The night is still young,” Harold said, warily. “But for now, it does appear to have worked. So enjoy the evening.”

  “That's permission enough,” Lola linked on to Wesley's arm, dragging him onto the dance floor.

  “Lola, I don't---” he said, but she was having none of it. There was no way any husband of hers was not going to dance. “At least let me get a drink first.”

  “Fine,” she let go his arm, a smile on her face. “Be quick about it though.”

  “Do you want one as well?” he asked, and she shook her head.

  “I'm fine,” she said. “I don't need a drink to dance.”

  “Oy,” was all he said, leaving her alone on the dance floor a moment.

  Lola had considered joining the dance line herself, confident in her ability. She only got about two steps in when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “That was quick,” she said, turning around. She expected Wesley to be standing behind her with a glass of champagne.

  She did not expect a stranger to be standing behind her.

  “Countess Rippon?” asked the man behind the mask.

  “Uh, yes?” she said. He had a glass of champagne in his hand, and she wondered if Wesley had sent one over. When they were in the colonies, Wesley had overindulged more than once, and she wasn't eager for him to return to that habit. Things had been bad then, and she didn't want them to return to the way they were then.

  “Or should I say, Miss Montclair, the great pretender?”

  “I'm sorry?” Lola asked, her shoulders tensing. Before she could say anything, the man poured the champagne over her head.

  “You don't deserve your title,” he snarled at her. “And you won't have it for long. Remember that.”

  Lola shrieked, knowing that she was surrounded by people. However, the man had a mask on that looked like everyone else's, and vanished into the overcrowded room. She was blinded by the champagne in her eyes, and by the time anyone got to her, she had completely lost track of him.

  Wesley was at her side in half a moment, having seen the scene from across the room. Still, it took him a moment to get through the crowd, and he had only seen the man from across the room. From the back, he looked absolutely the same as half the men in the room.

  “Did you see his face?” he asked Lola, who was sputtering

  “No,” she said, brushing her face. “Mask.”

  “I'll kill him,” Wesley said, leading her off the dance floor. “I will kill him. What did he say to you?”

  “What do you think?” Lola asked. “This is what we've been dealing with.”

  “Lola!” Annabelle came to her side, having seen the incident as well. “Oh my goodness! Come this way to clean up. I know where we can go.”

  “Are you hurt?” Wesley asked, trying to control his temper. “If he hurt you...”

  “Just embarrassed,” she said. “It's alright, Wesley.”

  “I will kill him,” Wesley answered, as Annabelle led her away. Harold took Wesley' arm, trying to stop him from quaking.

  “Can you identify him?”

  “No,” Wesley said. “But maybe if we scan the crowd....”

  “Was it premeditated?”

  “I don't know, I don't know,” Wesley said. “I mean...”

  “You know that this has happened before,” Harold said. “Right now, focus on the good things. Lola is unhurt, and we are in a contained room with lots of witnesses. Everything is going to be alright, we are going to find this man.”

  “Right...” Wesley said, scanning the crowd. Then he met eyes across the room with someone that he'd never thought he'd see again. Across the room was his Cousin Tannoy, who was supposed to be dead. Tannoy, his next closest descendant, and the next heir to the Rippon line.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Aaron was leaning against the wall, trying to stay out of the way, his mask firmly in place, as he watched Shauna lead Gwendolyn off the dance floor. They had danced together, but it appeared that Gwendolyn had her fill for the moment. Catching Aaron's eyes, Shauna smiled, walking towards him.

  “Can I get you a drink, Ma'am?” he asked her, taking a glass of champagne off the nearest tray. “May I say--you two are the belles of the ball?”

  “Well, thank you,” Shauna blushed.

  “Do you have a husband here?” Aaron asked, and she dipped her head, playing the part for anyone who was listening.

  “My husband is dead, sir,” she said.

  “I'm sorry to hear that,” Aaron said, as the people around them drifted away. Shauna looked around, and then lowered her voice.

  “Can you dance with us?”

  “After I've flirted with you a bit more, according to the mastermind planner. Are you having fun though?”

  “We are,” Shauna said. “Aren't we?”

  “Can I get something to eat?” Gwendolyn asked, eyeing the buffet table and Aaron laughed.

  “I think so,” he said. “But come right back.”

  “I'll bring a plate, then, shall I?” she asked, and Shauna agreed to that.

  “Hurry back,” she said, giving her a little push in the right direction.

  “She's enchanted,” Aaron said, watching her head off. “We'll never get her to leave.”

  “She's thrilled that you are here,” she answered. “All she's talking about is you.”

  “I'm glad I could make her happy,” Aaron said. “I only wish it was more often.”

  “Aaron,” he turned his he
ad to find Harold at his side. “Where's Gwendolyn?”

  “Getting something to eat, why?” Aaron asked. “Why do you two look so bothered?”

  “Some bloke's just told Lola what he thinks of an actress having the title,” Wesley said. “With a full glass of champagne.”

  “What?” Aaron's eyes changed. “Where is she? Is she alright?”

  “She's alright,” Wesley said. “But in looking for him, I've noticed my first cousin staring me down. I'm not sure he knows I know.”

  “Your first cousin?” Aaron said in alarm. “He's dead, isn't he?”

  “That's what I thought,” Wesley said. “And I can't say for sure he wasn't the one that did this to Lola.”

  “Well, good on you, trying to figure out the best strategy,” Aaron said. “Although....not to change the subject. Do you think it's a coincidence that Gilles shows up the other day and now your family? What is happening?”

  “Are you suggesting a conspiracy theory?” Harold gave him a look. “Don't jump to conclusions that aren't there, Aaron.”

  “This would be the perfect place for someone to hide and observe,” Aaron pointed out. “Everyone is wearing masks. I can't tell one person from the other, as long as they keep their masks on.”

  “May I remind you that you aren't to remove yours,” Harold said. “You stay here, out of the way. Keep your eyes open. Wesley and I will walk through the crowd; see what we could find out. Whoever did this must have planned it out a bit, to vanish into the crowd.”

  “I'll come with you,” Aaron moved forward and Harold pushed his shoulder back so he returned to leaning against the wall.

  “You keep an eye out,” he repeated. “Somebody has to stay out of the way.”

  “Do you think we should stay?” Shauna asked.

  “No,” Harold said. “I think you should find Gwendolyn and head back to the house. I'm going to send Annabelle home as well. There's too many things happening at the moment that make me feel unsafe about anyone being here who shouldn't be.”

  “Are there not palace guards who can help?” Shauna asked.

  “Would you like the palace guards to get involved with scandal and secrets?” Harold asked. “The palace will investigate everything that's happening, and if they dig too deep, it could get messy.”

  “Are you sure about sending Annabelle?” Aaron asked.

  “I think so,” Harold said. “Normally, we'd find someone and send them off to jail...but...”

  “We're not normal,” Aaron said. “Go on then. Shauna, find Gwendolyn, I'll explain it to you.”

  “She's not going to be happy,” Shauna said and Aaron sighed.

  “I know,” he said. “I'll make it up to her. But right now, we have no idea what is going on, and we have to be vigilant."

  “Are you worried?”

  “I'm not,” he answered. “There have always been threats to the title; it comes with the responsibility of being noble. And we knew that this would be rocky. Go and be safe, my love, I'll see you soon.”

  “I love you,” she whispered, squeezing his hand briefly and then vanishing into the crowd. He watched her go, lovingly, but with sadness in his heart. This was the reality of their lives; they could never be normal, even when hiding behind masks.

  It was while watching Shauna gather up Gwendolyn and meet with Lola that he saw Gilles approaching. Through his mask, his eyes were dark, targeted, and he was stalking towards them with intention that sent chills down Aaron's spine.

  He was accompanied by a tall dark man, who had similar build to Wesley. Aaron had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was Tannoy, and advanced forward. He knew revealing who he was would risk everything, so he remained silent as he gripped his fists.

  He saw Gilles move before his brain registered exactly what was happening. The man reached out. Aaron had no idea what he was going to do, but it didn't matter. He roared forward, reaching to grab his arm.

  Gilles was fast, and alerted by the noise. He spun around, and his eyes widened. Through Aaron's mask, he saw the Bamber eyes; the blue that stood out from any crowd.

  As a pirate, Aaron knew how to fight, hand to hand. He was a good shot and wonderful with a sword as well. Unfortunately, all the skills in the world didn't make up for the fact that he had been unsteady since the morning, and that split second was enough for Gilles to grab his wrist and hurl him down.

  There was a scream in the crowd. Aaron felt his head make contact with the marble dance floor. His mask shattered, and the last thing he remembered was rapidly approaching blackness.

  Harold and Wesley were on the scene in an instant. Wesley grabbed Gilles by the neck and smashed his head onto the marble pillar, which resulted in blood spurting everywhere. The ladies screamed, backing up as Harold grabbed a hold of Tannoy, who was advancing forward.

  “You usurper! You will pay for what you did.”

  “Your families will be taken from their titles!”

  “Ugh!” Harold growled, as he tightened his grip on the Irish man's neck. Wesley wasn't threatened by Gilles's strength, but his eyes were on Aaron's limp body on the floor. He was face down, but his mask was in pieces. If he moved even an inch, his face would be seen. “You have no right…”

  “YOU have no right!” Tannoy cried. “We are not the first and we will not be the last. Your place, your title...”

  A strangled noise from the floor alerted Harold to what was about to happen. Of course, Aaron's body would choose this moment to have a fit rather than stay limp.

  “Wesley!” Harold cried and Wesley knew exactly what was going to happen. He couldn't move, though, not without letting Giles go.

  “Shauna,” Wesley managed, and she tried to get forward in time.

  She was a moment too late to grab him and push his face down. The eyes, the nose, the face that everyone had known, flipped up for just a moment. Even in a fit, Gilles recognized his cousin.

  Harold felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest when Gilles choked.

  “He's not dead,” Gilles said, as the palace guards began working their way through the panicked crowd. “He's not dead, you liars.”

  “Arrest those men!” came the order of the Prince, screaming through the crowd. “Arrest them!”

  “Let us go,” Gilles said. “Let us go or everyone will see what you did. You liars. Let us go.”

  “Let them go,” Wesley realized what they knew, calculating several ways this could go. “Let them flee.”

  “But---” Harold said.

  “Let them go,” Wesley said, his breath coming short. Shauna was trying to hold her husband still, and keep his face down, and she was losing her battle. He knew that Aaron had been well known in the palace, so any one of the frightened folks around them could recognize him. “Let them run.”

  Harold growled, but released his grip. Both men were agile and fled through the crowd, using the mass of people to vanish from the guards. The guards changed their course, but Harold knew they would never catch them. Men like this were too smart, too calculated. Now, they knew too much.

  Gwendolyn, to her credit, made sure to not give away her father's identity Instead, she monopolized the crowd, screaming and pointing in the opposite direction of where the men went. Everyone turned, alarmed, and it was enough for Harold to stoop down. Aaron's face was a mess of blood, and Harold knew he must have broken his nose. He never thought he'd be grateful for a broken nose, but now, he dipped his hand against the puddle of blood on the floor, smearing it on his face. He was hoping it was enough to hide the face of the formerly popular Lord.

  However, the fit was enough to recognize him. There was only one noble family that carried that gene, and those who knew him well started to widen their eyes.

  “My brother used to have fits like this,” Annabelle said out loud, distracting the crowd after Gwendolyn. “I can help. You remember my brother having fits, don't you Lord Gary? Lady Melbourne? Oh, I miss him,” she said, as she slid to her knees. “Here, Hu
sband, please help me.”

  “Careful of his head,” Harold said, mostly hoping that his wife picked up on keeping his face hidden. “Here, this way.”

  There was enough commotion that they were able to carry him between them. Wesley grabbed his Captain's head, pulling it towards his shoulder. He winced as he felt the wetness of the blood flowing down his neck. The tremors had mostly stopped, and he gripped him with strength as they moved forward.

  “Where are the carriages?” Wesley asked Lola, who was pale and drawn. He only briefly registered that this was odd, because Lola was normally very well versed in any nerve wracking events. This time, though, she barely said a word as she pointed forward, summoning their carriages when they got outside.

  They had to move fast, because they didn't want to draw even more eyes. They knew already that their rapid exit would draw even more questions, but they couldn't risk any more attention. This was the disaster Harold had worried it would be. If he really thought about it, it was worse than he could have thought out.

  The carriages rolled up, and the men and Lola launched into one. Annabelle hauled the women into the others.

  “Home, driver,” Harold ordered and felt the wheels clatter. They were safe, for a moment. Only for a moment though. Once they got home, Harold knew everything had to change, and it would not be for the better.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Inside the carriage, Wesley pushed himself up against the far wall, his Captain still slumped in his arms.

  “You look like you've been in battle,” Lola said, dryly, as she leaned back so Harold could lean over him. He reached to his brother-in-law's neck, checking for the pulse.

  “Sort of have,” Wesley said, as he tried to let Harold have full access to Aaron's vitals. Harold sat back down, his jaw tense.

  “Is he alright?” Lola asked.

  “This is going to happen again,” Harold said, so versed in counting the pulse and putting it against the likely hood of a seizure. “Probably before we make it home, I think. His pulse is too fast.”

  “Would that not be the pain?” Wesley asked. “I reckon his nose is broken.”