“Lord Bamber hasn't eaten yet,” Harold said and Aaron smiled.
“Grapes, if you please, sir.”
“Uh huh,” Peckard resisted the urge to swat both of them upside the head as he got them inside. They had precious few seconds until the top ranks would join then, and he used it to his advantage, slamming the door. “Sit,” he pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. “Now, before either of you speak, let me tell you I suspected this from the start.”
“What?” Harold asked, in shock.
“The two of you,” Peckard shook his head. “There was no way you'd be separated by death. Your funeral, Mr. Bamber, seemed....odd.”
“Do you think anyone else thought that?” Aaron asked.
“No,” Peckard said. “Just those of us who knew you well. So what we have here is treason, you know that. You better have a good argument.”
“Aaron and Wesley decoded the documents,” Harold said “And we are all in danger unless we stop it.”
“Stop what?” Peckard asked.
“That's uh... I need their protection first,” Harold said “Or I assure you, sir, everyone will die.”
“Wonderful,” Peckard said, as his door opened. There wasn't an officer among them who didn't do a double take.
“Amazing,” Captain Hamilton said, unimpressed as he closed the door behind him. “This is going to be an entertaining day.”
Aaron and Harold glanced to each other, and Harold cleared his throat, repeating the information.
Peckard looked more annoyed at the repeat request.
“You are threatening us, man,” he said. “Do you understand that?”
“I am...”
“He is protecting his family,” Aaron spoke at last. “Which is mine as well. That is all.”
“That is not an excuse to blackmail half the Admiralty!”
“Sir,” Harold said “Before the generals, my duty is to protect King and country, and that includes his nobles. As one of his favorites, before his...untimely demise...were Lord Bamber and his family. I inherited the title only because he chose to go to the noose.”
“Instead of you,” Peckard was smart.
“Someone had to swing,” Aaron said. “And to be honest, I wasn't sure if I was going to live. I didn't actually intend to.”
“We need to get this information into the right hands within minutes,” Harold urged. “So if you are not going to agree to it, gentleman...our terms are firm. Either Aaron lives and Earl Rippon can retake his place, or we all die. Every one of us, our families, and the nobility.”
Peckard wanted to put his fist through the desk. The two of them had always been like this; always together; always thinking, and always looking out for each other. He wasn't at all surprised by this outcome of events, now that he thought about it.
“Fine,” he said, and his colleagues looked at him in shock. “What choice do we have, gentlemen?” he asked. “In my experience, Mr. Harper tends not to exaggerate.”
Hamilton sighed, glancing to colleagues.
“Let me hear what you have to say, sir.”
“On my terms?”
“On your bloody terms,” Hamilton replied.
Harold glanced to Aaron, who nodded, and produced the papers. Harold handed them over to Peckard, and Aaron coughed, clearing his throat as he leaned over.
“Are you likely to die for a second time, Mr. Bamber?” Peckard asked, barely looking up.
“Some water, that's all,” Aaron said, and Peckard pointed to his side table while he read.
It only took half a glass of water before Peckard shook his head, slamming the papers down on the desk.
“Good God, you could have just told us,” he said, going to his map of the city. The others crowded around, and for a brief moment, Aaron and Harold found themselves completely ignored.
“We could have,” Aaron said. “And negotiated later.”
Harold raised an eyebrow.
“If Wesley was here, he'd disagree.”
“Wonder how he's doing,” Aaron said.
“Oh, Wesley has it under control, whatever he is doing,” Harold said, as the men turned back to him. However, they didn't acknowledge either of them, rushing out the door to mobilize their troops.
Only Peckard eventually remained in the room with them, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms.
“Is there something you'd like us to do, sir?” Aaron asked, and Peckard growled deep in his throat. He knew, however, there was no point in fighting with them about the way they had gone about things.
“How is Earl Rippon?” he asked at last. “I suspected he was with you, when he just disappeared off the face of the Earth.”
“He's alright,” Aaron said. “Should be at the theater, stopping a back up plot to assassinate Lola, which would be the first step to bringing down the Rippon monarchy. My cousin and Wesley's heir know I'm alive, you see, so they thought they'd kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”
“There's never a dull moment in your lives, is there?” Peckard shook his head. “You'll be safe, Mr. Bamber. As will your family, don't worry. Do you need troops sent to the theater?”
“Might be useful, if Wesley needs some back up,” Aaron replied. “He's pretty sharp though.”
“Stay here,” Peckard said. “Mr. Harper, come with me if you want. We won't be a moment.”
“Aye, aye sir,” Harold rose, giving Aaron a look as they exited into the hallway. Peckard met him with hardened eyes.
“Do you know what you just risked, sir?” Peckard asked him, once they were in the hallway.
“Nothing more than Mr. Bamber once risked for me,” Harold said “I knew we had time before the fuses might potentiality be lit.”
“You have nerves of steel,” Peckard answered. “But your commission, never mind your life could have been...”
“Sir,” Harold answered. “It wouldn't have mattered.”
“Do not do yourself a disservice,” Peckard answered. “Your legacy in the British navy goes beyond your title, your heart. And you almost just threw it away. Do not ever do such a thing like that.”
“With all due respect,” Harold answered. “What was I suppose to do?”
“Come to me next time you have a treasonous plot you want to resurrect,” Peckard said. “Now, stay here and don't make anything worse.”
“Aye, sir,” Harold said, knowing when to take his leave of a situation. The hallway was becoming chaos, troops were mobilizing, and Harold knew that if he even so much as tried to explain the encryption further, they would clap him in irons.
Inside the room, Aaron was staring out the window, his fingers drumming on his knees. He looked up to Harold with a look Harold hadn't seen before.
“What is it?” Harold asked, concerned. Aaron shook his head.
“Nothing,” he said.
“All these years,” Harold said “You think I don't know when something is troubling you?”
“I miss this,” Aaron said, indicating the chaotic noise around them. “The adrenaline, the office, the maps, even Peckard. I thought I would be fine but this...this is difficult.”
“Well, the British Navy is crafty, if nothing else,” Harold said. “I'm sure they can come up with something to get you back into the swing of things.”
“It won't be the same, though,” Aaron said. “Even if they can fix all the scandal.”
“Aaron, nothing is ever the same,” Harold sat in the chair opposite him. “From one day to the next, a seemingly normal life or not. We can't go back to 4 years ago, 10 years ago, yesterday, no matter what the circumstances.”
“Well, I can dream, can't I?” Aaron said, at last. “Are we to help or just sit here?”
“Sit here or swing,” Harold said, leaning back. “I hope Wesley is doing alright.”
“The brightest brain among us?” Aaron asked. “I'm sure he has everything under control. I just hope the women folk have gotten out of the city by now. Lord, I feel so useless.”
“Aaron, without you, we wouldn't even know there were charges laid,” Harold pointed out. “We'd be sitting in blissful ignorance.”
Harold paused and they both had the same thought.
“What a way to go,” Aaron smiled at last. “At least they'd talk about it for years afterwards. The Bamber legacy would have gone out with a bang, instead of a whisper.”
“There's still time,” Harold said, standing up. There was a knock at the door then, and he turned. “Sir?”
He was expecting one of the higher ranking officers to come in. He hadn't expected the door to open and then close again, slamming behind the man standing at the door.
He hadn't expected Gilles to be standing in front of them, gun cocked, disguised as a midshipman.
Aaron tensed, watching as his cousin pointed the gun between them.
“Sit down, Lord Bamber,” said Gilles. “Or shall I say, Mr. Harper. You usurper.”
“Outside, sir, there are half a hundred...”
“And they won't come in here,” Gilles assured him. “They are too busy trying to stop the explosives, which they won't.”
“If they don't, you die in here with us,” Aaron pointed out.
“And my son takes your title,” Gilles said. “As he should have all along.”
“You've got this planned down to the last detail, I give you credit,” Aaron rose his chin.
Gilles cocked his gun.
“You have no idea,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Annabelle was only two miles from the house when she suddenly howled out to the driver.
“Stop!” she cried, startling Shauna and the children. They all looked at her like she had lost her mind. “I can't do this.”
Shauna put her arm around Gwendolyn, a calm expression on her face.
“I know,” she said. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take you to realize that. What do you want to do?”
“Let me out here,” Annabelle said, going for the door.
“Mother!” James cried, and Annabelle's heart nearly broke. She glanced at Shauna, and both women seemed to have the same idea.
“James,” Annabelle said, pausing. “Your Aunt Shauna and I need you to be strong, to be the man of the house right now.”
James was barely 8 years old, and Annabelle knew that in other households, 8 was a difficult age. They either managed as adults, if their fathers were gone, or they were treated like children. James was half way in between these difficult ages, where he managed quite well some days, and others, he reverted back to the sobbing child Annabelle had given birth to.
She envied her son, in a lot of ways, because he was the only one whose future was not uncertain. No matter which way this day played out, James was the only male child of the Bamber twins, so he would inherit the title. Aaron and Shauna were unlikely to have any more children, so James was the sole heir. He was the solution; the cleansing to all this controversy When James inherited, it wouldn't have mattered what troubles the generation before him went through. He was the reason they were fighting to begin with.
James sniffled, but held his head high.
“What do you need me to do, Mother?”
“She wants to leave us,” Gwendolyn wasn't unintelligent, but she was often without tact. “Isn't that right?”
Shauna glanced at her daughter.
“We have to go help your Father,” Shauna said. “So that he can come home and you can tell him exactly what you think.”
“You'll stay in the carriage until you reach the farm house,” Annabelle said. “You'll be safe, and we'll be able to join you soon.”
“What if you're not?” Gwendolyn asked.
“Then,” Shauna smoothed her daughter's head. “You will do us proud, won't you?”
“Mmm,” Gwendolyn was used to danger, and life on the edge. They had lived such a different life before Aaron had acknowledged her. It was almost as if she preferred life to be on the edge; adrenaline fueled without a hint of normalcy.
“What happens to the title then?” James asked, wise beyond his years.
“The two of you,” Shauna looked to the cousins. “Will save it. But that's not going to be the case, because Annabelle and I are going to save your fathers from their own mess.”
“As usual,” Annabelle put in. They leaned in, giving their children hugs and kisses, and saying a quick prayer. Then, before they could lose their nerve, they both stepped out of the carriage. The driver knew better than to question the will of the two ladies, and simply nodding stoically, carrying on.
Annabelle turned to Shauna, taking a deep breath.
“Where to, first? Lola and Wesley are at the theater. Our husbands are probably arguing their way through military headquarters.”
“Or swinging from a noose,” Shauna said. “Either way, there's potential fire power in both places, and neither of us have weapons. The best way to help them is to disable the danger.”
Annabelle raised an eyebrow.
“You're talking about the lines that supposedly lay through the entire city?”
“The entire city,” Shauna said. “That your family used to own. You must know the secret passages, the ways to the palace. You're smart like your brother, Annabelle, you just need to think. Even if we can cut a few wires...”
“There is a way,” Annabelle said, suddenly. “Long ago, when the Bamber title was created, they were a favorite of the king. We weren't next in line, or even close to it, but the King loved the family. We were given blueprints, of the sewers, the underground passages to the palace, should we ever need to get there in a hurry.”
“Do you know them all by heart?” Shauna asked.
“I...maybe,” she said. “Aaron and I only played in them a few times, before we got in trouble. Our parents thought it was too dangerous. We got in trouble, and we never went back. If we go down there now, there's a chance that we might never come out. You could get lost in there for the rest of your life.”
“The rest of our lives could be short, though,” Shauna pointed out. “If we don't try.”
“I'm not second guessing it,” Annabelle replied. “I just hope you have a better sense of direction than I do. Aaron was always good at it. I suppose that's part of why the navy worked out for him.”
“Lead the way,” Shauna answered, squaring her shoulders.
Annabelle didn't move right away, closing her eyes as she tried to remember those days of play years ago. She and Aaron hadn't even been 10 years old yet when they explored the tunnels. They had only found their way to the palace once, and it had been by sheer luck. For all she knew, everything was going to be sealed off when they got down there.
“This way,” Annabelle walked away from the main street, trying to remember what was still the same from her childhood. “Gilles did this,” she said, as they walked. “The whole family knew about it, it was part of our family inheritance, really. He would have given the information away.”
“That's treason,” Shauna said. “The King will prosecute him for that.”
“Let's just stop the city from blowing to kingdom come,” Annabelle said. “I think it's in here.”
She found her way through one close, up another, and into the sewers, eventually. They had to lower themselves through a hole, their dresses splattered with mud. Both women were hearty, and neither wrinkled their noses too much when they slipped in the mud.
It only took one turn before Annabelle saw the wires.
“Here,” she said, to Shauna. It was almost buried in the mud, in the darkness. Her eyes trailed down the alley, and she thought she saw a barrel around the corner. “Good Lord, I was right,” she said. “He must have sold it to them. The---”
“No need to be crude,” Shauna smiled at her. “The real question is how are we going to cut the wires?”
“We can---” Annabelle looked around until she found a sharp rock. “Try this?”
“Let me,” Shauna said, holding out her hand. “No offense, dear s
ister-in-law, but I've had a bit more experience at roughing it than you have.”
“Mmm,” Annabelle didn't argue the point, putting it in her hand. “I'm going to follow the line. I don't have any knowledge about amounts of gun powder, but I have a feeling there is a lot more, and it is enough to carry through with the threat.”
“You don't think that it's enough to wet the powder?”
“Do you want to take that risk?” Annabelle asked. “I'd rather have the wires cut.”
“You could knock them over, for good measure,” Shauna was putting a good amount of elbow grease into the wire, but it wasn't working very well.
“I can do that,” Annabelle picked her way gingerly through the passage way, putting her hand on the wall for guidance.
She wasn't afraid, because she knew where she was, and knew she was alive. However, she was worried for her brother, her brother-in-law, and Lola.
She couldn't see it all ending well. There were too many variables that had to work out in order for them to not live life in scandal. She had already accepted scandal, and ruin. All she wanted was that they stayed alive, and could live in peace.
She was lost in her own thoughts, and she didn't see the shadow in front of her until she was almost upon it. Annabelle stopped short, leaning against the wall. She tried to calm her breathing, lower her heart rate, and not make a sound.
She squinted into the dark, and the shadow moved again. To her horror, it took the shape of a man, and a flame came into sight.
It was a French uniform; she recognized it briefly by its colors. It confirmed that everyone was against them in this plot. It was probably some low level soldier, sent to light the fuses. Annabelle didn't see anyone else with him, but he was still armed. She was trying to work out what she was going to do when Shauna's voice came through the passageway.
“I got it!” she cried and her voice echoed through the cavern.
The French soldier jerked up and Annabelle had to think fast. She only had moments before the solider rushed forward.
The only thing she had to grab was her shoe, which was already half off in the mud. She reached down quickly, and pulled it off, throwing it in one smooth motion.
How To Love A Fake Prince (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story) Page 34
