How To Love A Fake Prince (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story)

by Jasmine Ashford

  “Do you think this plan is going to work?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Strange things happen in this place that I've never seen before. So why not?”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” she said. “I think you're the only one who has confidence right now.”

  “It only takes one to change to world, Miss Lola,” he said. “Just one. And that one could be you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Odysseen er nøglen,” Wesley finally worked out the first line of the third page. It was infuriating to him, because every line seemed to be in a different kind of puzzle in a different language. Luckily, between the three of them, they were getting through most of that. “The ...something Odyssey.”

  “Key?” Aaron asked, trying to remember his brief time in Denmark. “Morgan?”

  “Probably,” Morgan answered, working on another cipher. “Do you have a copy of the Odyssey?”

  “Somewhere, in this book case,” Aaron said, pointing to the largest book case.

  “Of course, it couldn't be there,” Morgan pointed to a small pile of books on the coffee table as he got up. Wesley didn't look at him at all, and Aaron realized that he hadn't said a word to him all day.

  “Wesley, do you want to work on the Odyssey with Morgan?” he said, pointedly. Before Wesley had a chance to respond, Lola appeared in the doorway. It was early for her to be awake, but she was fully dressed, and Aaron didn't miss the coronet in her hair.

  “We have to go to the library, to present the check,” she said. “For the children's reading fund. Are you coming?”

  “We're not doing that,” he said, in half horror. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Should I just go perform your title's duties without you?” she asked. Morgan turned around then, trying to lighten the situation.

  “I'll go with you, if you want?” he asked. “I know a thing or two about titles and duties.”

  “To hell you will,” Wesley dropped his papers. “And I swear, if I ever hear that out of your mouth again, I will shut it forever."

  “There's so much scandal in this family,” Lola said. “Can we not add any more to it?”

  “By having a murder in the middle of the street?” Wesley asked her. “You were in the middle of it last night. I can keep you safe but--”

  “Wesley, they are children!” she cried.

  “It's nice of you to consider them, seeing as you refuse to have any of our own!”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Everyone talks about it, Lola,” he said. “Look around, the rest of the nobles are producing heirs.”

  Lola's mouth hung open.

  “Where did that come from?” she asked.

  “My sister's pregnant,” Aaron informed her. “I think she was going to tell everyone today.”

  “Well, Annabelle can have enough children for her and myself,” Lola turned and headed out the door.

  “Lola, it's dangerous!” Wesley caught her at the door.

  “So come with me and honor your birthright,” she said. “You're supposed to be doing it anyways.”

  “And I will do it without you.”

  “Excellent, get used to it,” she turned on her heel and headed up the stairs, leaving Wesley alone in the hallway.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Wesley was practically seething with anger when he got to the library. Lola had defied him before, he was used to that. However, to threaten to strut out in public when she knew there were death threats against her was past insane. He couldn't believe that she would carry on as normal, and with such an attitude. It was either that she wanted to die or she was done with the life the two of them were living.

  “Earl Rippon,” the head of the library stuck out his hand, shaking it. Wesley managed to maintain his composure, forcing a smile on his face.

  “Sir,” he said. “It's wonderful to see you again.”

  Sir Johnathan was old, probably older than Wesley's father had been. Of Irish descent, the man had been head of the British Library system as long as he could remember. His father used to bring him along to present checks, pretending to care about the state of the children, while abusing his own.

  “We were expecting your wife,” Sir Johnathan said. “She's presented the last few checks.”

  “Countess Rippon is...otherwise engaged,” he said and Sir Johnathan's face took on a different tone.

  “Yes, I saw her...show last night,” he said. “How exhausting that must be, to have full noble duties and make sure that the shows are spectacular.”

  This was a topic that Wesley did not want to discuss at all. However, Sir Johnathan looked around, and then lowered his voice.

  “Could I have a word with you?” Sir Johnathan asked. “In private, sir?”

  “Is now really the best time?” Wesley asked. “I have a check, I want to hand it over to you, and that is all.”

  “It is about your wife,” Sir Johnathan said and Wesley felt like he might explode. “Last night, perhaps you are already aware...I saw her arm in arm with a man...”

  Wesley felt like he already knew the answer, but he felt compelled to ask.

  “Please describe the man,” Wesley said, and tried not to not punch him in the jaw when he described Morgan Ouiseau's every last detail. “Perhaps one of her colleagues?”

  “He was sitting in the audience, sir,” Sir Johnathan said. “I don't want to cause any problems, but if that was my wife...I would want to know.”

  “Lola is an actress,” Wesley said, through clenched teeth. “The things that she has to do at work are...”

  “Sir, I understand the theater community,” Sir Johnathan said. “And I am a great advocate of character and stories. But I don't believe...”

  “You know what?” Wesley reached into his jacket, pulling out the check. “You can present it yourself.”

  “Sir, I didn't mean any offense,” Sir Johnathan said. “I was simply...”

  “I know you didn't mean any harm,” Wesley said. “I'm well aware of the antics of my wife. So you can humiliate me more or you can take the check and leave.”

  “What do you think your father would think?” Sir Johnathan said and Wesley growled.

  “Do not speak of my father,” Wesley said, his eyes nearly popping out of my head. “Even if I keep a harem and allow my wife to work the streets, I would be better than my father.”

  “Do not disrespect your father's memory,” Sir Johnathan said and Wesley shook his head.

  “Do not respect it,” he said, and turned on his heel, heading back to the waiting carriage. He was shaking, and it was only the rigid noble training that made him control his behavior. He had been right then, about Lola and Morgan. What was going on?

  He didn't care about his title most of the time. He had only re-assumed it to help her. If she was going to throw it aside, then maybe neither of them needed to claim it anymore.

  Maybe this was a sign that their lives should part for good.

  Just as the carriage rolled away, he thought that he saw a recognizable face in the crowd. He turned his head around, cramming his face out the window of the carriage to see if he was right.

  Sure enough, he saw Tannoy standing there, watching him.

  “Stop the carriage!” Wesley screamed at his driver. “Stop the carriage!”

  The driver lashed the horses, and they came to a halt, but Wesley's feet were on the ground before the carriage had even stopped. He could barely process thoughts as he tore around the corner, elbowing people out of the way in the busy street.

  “Tannoy?” he spun around, baffled. He had seen him watching, he was sure of it. Yet he was nowhere to be found. “Tannoy?”

  The passerby looked confused, especially given how well he was dressed, but said nothing.

  A thought occurred to him as he looked around the streets. Everyone standing there, including Tannoy if he was hiding, knew that he was out of the house. Everyone knew that Lola, where ever she was, could be alone, with
out the protection of her husband.

  He was an idiot.

  He flew back into the carriage, shouting to the confused driver.

  “Go, go, go!”

  “Go where, sir?” The driver asked, trying to get his bearings.

  “Back home,” Wesley demanded.

  “Home?” the driver asked. “But Miss Lola said that we were also to stop at that the...”

  “I don't care what Lola wanted, you will take me home and I will face her wrath if....never mind, just go!”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver said, although he didn't particularly want to face Lola's wrath. He spurred the horses forward and Wesley gripped onto the side of the seat.

  The journey to Bamber Manor normally took half an hour, but even though it shorter with the rush, it felt like over a day to Wesley. He clenched his fists together, willing everyone to get out of the way.

  When Bamber Manor finally came into sight, he wanted to leap from the carriage. He practically tumbled out when the carriage came up to the front door, bursting through it.

  “Where's Lola?” he demanded of the first person he saw. It was James, Harold's young son, who turned around from where he had been playing in the hallway.

  “Sir?” he asked, in confusion.

  “My wife, Lola, where is she?” Wesley demanded. The little boy looked fearful. He had seen Wesley around quite a bit, but he had never had him scream like this. “Where is she?”

  “I don't know,” James said. “I don't know...”

  “What do you mean, you don't know? How long have you been playing here? Did you see her walk out the door?”

  “Yes---” James squeaked.

  “And?”

  “Wesley, what are you doing?” Harold came around the corner. “Why are you screaming at my child?”

  “Where is Lola?”

  “She isn't here,” Harold said.

  “Thanks mate, where is she?”

  “She got a note to head to the theater early,” Harold said.

  “Alone?”

  Harold looked confused.

  “Who else would she go with?”

  “Is she sure the note came from the theater? Did you look at it?”

  “No,” Harold said “But we sent her in the carriage and...”

  “For goodness sake,” Wesley snapped at him. “I just saw Tannoy on the street, and now...”

  “Wesley, calm down,” Harold put his hand up. “James, go find your mother, alright?”

  “Have I done something wrong?” James asked, but Harold shook his head.

  “It's alright,” he said. “Just go on.”

  Once the child was gone, Harold turned to him.

  “Wesley, if you are concerned, that's fine, but don't speak of such matters in front of my child.”

  Wesley snorted.

  “That's the child who is going to inherit,” Wesley said. “And let me tell you about being a child of a lord...”

  “I don't need your education,” Harold said “But feel free to waste more time wondering where your wife is otherwise.”

  Wesley growled.

  “Are you sure she's at the theater?” he asked again. “Where's Morgan?”

  “He's in the library last time I saw,” Harold said “Did you see something suspicious out there?”

  “I just told you I saw Tannoy on the street.”

  “The worst case scenario is that he tried to hurt you and clearly didn't,” Harold said.

  “Or he knows that Lola is alone, that I'm not with her,” Wesley replied.

  “Harold!” came a sudden cry from the living room. Both of them heard the urgency in Aaron's voice. They both bolted, fearing the worst. Harold was prepared to catch him, to clean up a puddle of blood, or to give him last rights. For all he knew, Gilles had broken into the house and slit his throat.

  All of their lives were at chaos, and Harold hated not knowing where the next threat would come from. All he could put stock in was the fact that it would be from all sides.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Harold was relieved for a moment to find Aaron looking completely fine, leaning over the table, examining the papers in front of him. However, it only lasted for a moment before he got a grip on reality.

  “Why are you yelling like that if you aren't dying?” he demanded. Aaron grinned.

  “I heard you both,” he said. “And I need help with this last line of code. Wesley?”

  “I don't have time for this right now,” Wesley said. “Lola is out there by herself. I have to go.”

  “Wesley, just look at it for a moment,” Aaron said, but Wesley didn't seem to care.

  “No, just leave it,” he said, turning to Harold. “I will take this on myself at the theater, if I have to,” he said. “Or you can come with me.”

  “I need to stay here,” Harold said “In case...”

  “Oh,” Wesley rolled his eyes and leaned over the papers. He picked up a pencil and scribbled a few words on it. He threw it down, and stormed out. Aaron glanced down and raised an eyebrow.

  “He did it,” he said, in half surprise “Of course he did. I only spent 4 hours on it, so why couldn't he do it in three moments?”

  He handed over the papers to Harold, who took them without hesitation.

  “They are going to...” he couldn't finish the words as he scanned the documents. This was a well thought out plot, one that had taken nearly a year of completion. It had taken smuggling in every corner of the city, learning the routes of nearly every shop keeper; every guard, every patrol. The Spanish and the French had worked together, and these documents showed that they had conspired for nearly a year to slowly lay charges all over the city. They had planned it by passing dispatches on the ships, a place no one would expect to find information about a city bombing. Logically, it should have been the armies that passed this information. Passing it through the ships meant it would be harder to detect. Putting theses dispatches together had been a herculean effort, and decoding them had been an even bigger task.

  There was no one who could put it together as fast as these two, Harold knew that.

  They were going to blow all of London to bits, including the royal houses.

  “We have to go to the Navy with this,” Harold said “It's going to take every troop we have to move on this.”

  “Take it then,” Aaron said, although Harold already had a sinking feeling in his stomach. His superiors were never going to believe him.

  “How are you feeling?” Harold asked, and Aaron turned to look at him fully.

  “I mean...” Aaron hated to say anything but well, because his personality dictated sunny and happy. However, if Harold had grand plans, he wanted to be honest. “I've had better days.”

  “If I help you, can you make it to HQ?”

  "Harold, have you lost your mind?" Aaron asked. Then, before Harold got the chance to answer, Aaron interrupted him. "Sorry, I always wanted to ask that of you, but I never got the chance."

  "Can you do it?" Harold asked. "Without entirely risking your life?"

  "Maybe?" Aaron asked. "What is your plan?"

  "When I head in there, they aren't going to believe me," Harold said. "And rather than waste time explaining what is going on while the city possibly explodes, I'd rather just...show them the proof. They will leap to your protection, I promise you."

  "And if they don't..."Aaron said. "Do you think that they will let me say goodbye to my wife and daughter?"

  "There will be no time," Harold swore to him. "Look at this; they could set the explosives at any moment. They won't hesitate and if they do...I'll withhold the information until they promise your safety."

  "You're going to blackmail the navy HQ?" Aaron said in disbelief. "Why, Harold, you could make a pirate after all."

  "Perhaps I could," Harold answered. "Which I may have to if our plan doesn't work out."

  "It will work out," Aaron said. "Which of your plans hasn't worked out, ever?"

  "Well..."Harold started, and then sh
ook his head. There was no point in rehashing old mistakes. "Never mind. Can you stand?"

  "I can attempt," Aaron said, reaching out for his arm.

  Harold tried to keep his face neutral, but inside, his heart was sinking. Aaron used to be so full of energy, used to recover quickly from the seizures that startled everyone around him. Now, the decline, the slow movements, was heart breaking to watch.

  He had to risk all their lives to save them. Just as Aaron had done for him, all those years ago, he realized.

  This was his chance to repay the favor.

  "Where are you going?"

  Shauna's voice startled both of them and Harold spun around to find not only Shauna, but Annabelle standing there as well. Neither of the women looked happy, which told Harold that they were likely asking a rhetorical question. They already knew exactly where the men were heading.

  "For a walk in the garden?" Aaron tried and Shauna raised an eyebrow.

  "Really?"

  "Sure." he knew he was on the losing side, but Harold admired his determination.

  "So you weren't going to Navy HQ to stop a plot that will likely get us all killed if you fail?" Annabelle looked between the two of them. "That part didn't even cross your mind?"

  "It has to be done," Harold said, but Annabelle was not impressed.

  "There has to be another way," she said. “A way that does not put this entire family in danger. Again."

  "Annabelle, if we don't take this information to the Admirals, to the Generals, to everyone with the power to stop this, than the entire city is gone," Harold thought fast. "On that note, you both need to pack up and take the children and get out. Take only what you can carry and head out of the city limits."

  "We're not leaving you," Annabelle was firm on this. "What if it doesn't work?"

  "They'll believe us, they have the proof here," Harold said

  "That's not what I was talking about!" Annabelle was quick to reply. "This entire family is already living in scandal, in question. It's only a matter of luck that we haven't lost everything that we have. And we have already lost far too much," she glanced at her brother. "We will never live down the scandal we are in. And that is enough if it means we are alive...but if there is anymore loss..."