“It is not your fault,” he took her into his arms. “Not in any way. No one should make you feel that way.”
“He used to blame me for everything...”
“And he will never do so again,” Wesley assured her, leaning in. Their first kiss in public was intoxicating, the world melting away as their lips met.
Both of them were so absorbed that neither of them noticed Mr. Bamber carefully make his way into the front entrance way, leaning heavily against the wall. He did look a little better, but Harold could see from one glance how he was feeling.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“What can I do?” Aaron asked. “I can sit out a season at sea, and make sure Lola is safe. Maybe it will be good for me. Or maybe...”
“You'll still be here when we dock next time,” Harold wasn't about to entertain the other option. “Besides, maybe you'll be inducted to help plan a wedding, those things take time.”
“Whose?” Aaron's eyes gleamed once more. “Because both of my dearest friends seem to have equal chances.”
“Aaron!” Lola turned around, having been brought back to reality. “You're supposed to be resting.”
“This is restful,” he said, meeting Wesley's eyes. “Is it done?”
“It's done,” Wesley answered. “Everything is done. The way they were processing things, I wouldn't be surprised if the trial was tomorrow.”
Lola leaned into Wesley, closing her eyes.
“Can we not talk about tomorrow?” she asked. “I'd rather speak of today.”
He slipped an arm around her, a blush on his cheeks. When they had docked, he never would have believed he'd be in this situation. Now, however, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
“And what would you like to do today?” he asked.
“I can think of a few things,” she said, making him chuckle. If they really did only have forty-eight hours left on shore, he was going to make sure he made the best of it. Come what may, these were going to be the happiest forty-eight hours of his life.
CHAPTER TWELVE
PARADISE
PARADISE
The days went by faster than they had expected. Although they spent every waking hour together, walking the gardens arm in arm or snuggled on the couch in front of the fire, it still wasn't enough time.
When the dawn entered Lola's room on the final day, she sat up. She hadn't slept a wink in the four hours she had been in bed. Wesley had convinced her that she should get some sleep, that she should relax on the day before she went back to the theater. Now that Peter was behind bars, the theater would hopefully return to normal.
Except it would never be the same. She would never be able to forget those poor boys lying on the floor, because of her. Because of what she created in Peter, because he couldn't understand she felt nothing for them. She thought what she had with him was love, what she had with him was happiness. However, she didn't know any of those things, at least, not until she met Wesley.
She heard voices in the hall, and pulled on her dressing gown. The boys were already moving about the hallway, bags pulled out.
“Hello,” she said, as Wesley dropped his bag into the hallway, half packed. From the look of him, she didn't think he got any sleep either.
“Hello,” he said, kissing the top of her head. There wasn't much left to say, either other than sorrow. Last night, she had shed tears as she silently laid her head on his chest on the sofa. Today, they had to return to their lives.
“I thought the call was for noon?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“Officers have to be on the ship before eight a.m.,” he said. “Make sure everything is in order before the general population boards. It will be a lot of standing around, but we still have to report.”
“So soon,” she said, and then turned in surprise to Aaron coming out of his room. “Not you too,” she said.
“I still have to report, Lola,” he said, softly. “Even if they deem me unfit, I have to report.”
“I'd rather all of you stayed here,” she managed.
“I'm staying,” Annabelle joined them. “I'm staying with you, until you go on tour again. I have no desire for the country home at the moment.”
“Thank goodness for small blessings, at least,” Lola took Annabelle's hand. “I don't think I could stand it if everyone left me here.”
“You'll be dazzling on the stage tonight,” Wesley assured her. “But if you don't have to be at the theater until the matinee...you could accompany us. Couldn't she?”
“To say goodbye,” Harold, as the senior officer, granted permission. She could already see that they were slipping back into their ship roles, the senior officers giving orders to the others, pointing at what needed to be packed, setting the schedule.
Lola hung back as they did, catching Wesley's hand when she could.
“Do you know when you'll be back?” she asked, even when she knew the answer.
“No,” he said, squeezing her hand as they took a quiet moment in the corner. “In the winter, though, although it may not be London. We don't often get to choose where we dock.”
“It doesn't matter where you are,” she said. “I can go anywhere...if you'd like to see me.”
“I would like to see you,” he assured her. “Of course I would. In the winter, we'll have more time together. If you still want to see me, of course.”
“It seems that we are both fearful of what time will bring,” she said. “But my feelings will not change, no matter how long you are away.”
“Nor will mine,” he brushed the hair out of the corner of her eye. He wanted to say so much more, but the clock chimed, and he knew they needed to go.
“Gentlemen,” Harold said, still holding Annabelle's hand. “Shall we?”
Wesley straightened up.
“Mr. Bamber, can I take your bag?”
Aaron gave him a pained smile, although he heaved his bag up himself.
“We'll take the carriages,” he said. “One last moment of luxury, my Lord.”
“Maybe,” Lola said, softly, as they walked. “If you land in Ireland...I could...”
“Yes,” Wesley said. “Yes, we could go back to my house. In fact, I don't think I could go back without you.”
“Then we'll make it a plan,” she assured him. “Whenever you are free.”
“What if you're on stage?” he teased her.
“I have understudies,” she assured him, as they climbed into the carriage.
The mood in the carriage was sad, yet comforting, as they rolled along the bumpy streets. No one had expected their shore leave to become such an adventure. They had all formed relationships that they didn't expect on shore, new friendships and new loves.
As they rolled past the road that would lead to the police station, Lola closed her eyes, leaning into Wesley.
He ran his hands through her hair, kissing the top of her head. The world saw her as so strong, so confident, and so full of energy. Here in his arms, though, with her eyes closed, she was fragile, scared, and in need of his protection. He would protect her, at any cost.
The ride to the ship was far too short. The sun was climbing to the top of the sky, and the world was waking up.
Their ship was majestically docked in the center, the white sails gleaming and billowing.
“That is your home,” she said, to Wesley, as they disembarked. “I know that. It will just be difficult.”
“It's not over just yet,” he said, to her. “Would you like to see my place on that giant?”
“Yes, please,” she said, as they approached. Their bags were loaded, and they signed in, walking the plank up to the deck. The water was a clear blue under them, and the day was full of a crisp new hope.
Aaron stumbled once on the plank and all four of them lunged for him.
“I'm fine,” he said, as they righted him. “I'm alright, gentlemen, no need for panic.”
“No need for panic,” Harold said. “But no hope of yo
ur usual tricks of concealment, Aaron. You will not leave this port.”
“I had hope---” Aaron said, and his best friend looked him in the eye.
“I have hope that you will stay here now, so that in the spring, you shall come aboard again.”
It wasn't a request, it was an order.
“Aaron,” Lola said. “Stay. We'll be together at last for months on end, as we thought about as children. It will be like being children again.”
He tried to smile, but no one was pretending the moment was easy.
The ship was already chaotic when they got aboard, the officers moving about, the loaders organizing the supplies. Lola was quite sure that she was going to be forgotten in the midst of the chaos. However, just when she thought about disembarking to wait, Wesley reappeared on deck.
“Come,” he beckoned her, drawing her down the ladder. She carefully made her way down the ladder, her shoes catching gently on the rungs. He put his hands on her thin waist to guide her the rest of the way.
The lower decks of the ship were much darker, the hallways narrow and the corners dusty.
“Have you ever been below deck before?” he asked her, taking her hand so she didn't lose her way. This was second nature to him, but he wasn't sure whether she was nervous.
“With a best friend like Aaron?” she asked. “All the time. On his first ship, he secretly brought me aboard on loading day and we explored all the nooks and crannies. I spent some time hiding in a box to avoid the captain.”
Wesley laughed.
“I shouldn't be surprised,” he said. “I shall miss Mr. Bamber this leg. But I know he will be well, in your company.”
“I wish you were in my company,” she squeezed his hand. “I know you have to go, and so do I. I thought I could control my tears. But this...this...”
“This is my cabin, the midshipman's wardroom,” he pulled into a room just in time for her tears to fall. Wrapping her arms around him, she inhaled his scent, trying to memorize every detail about him.
They said nothing for a long moment, their bodies fitting perfectly together. She wanted to kiss him, to press him against the wall, and never let go. His arms around her made her both feel safe, and dangerous. She wanted him to reach lower, to take her as he desired, to run his hands through her hair and kiss his neck.
“Is breá liom tú,” he whispered to her, his breath hot in her ear.
“What does that mean?” she asked, almost melting in his arms. His Irish accent made her head spin, but speaking Gaelic to her sent a whole different level of tingles down her spine.
“It means I love you,” he said. “I know it is soon, but I also know that I've never...”
“Stop,” she said. “Say it again.”
“Is breá liom tú,” he complied.
“Is breá liom tú,” she repeated, and he smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “Remember that, when I'm gone. I will come back to you, I promise. To say that again.”
“You won't meet another famous lady of the stage in your next port?” she asked, only half teasing.
“Lola,” he took her hand. “There will never be anyone but you for me. Even if you leave me, even if you move on...there will never be anyone else.”
She felt something cold against her finger, and looked down.
On the fourth finger of her left hand, he was slipping a rather large signet ring. She recognized it right away as the ring of a noble family.
“I don't have anything proper,” he said, and she heard a tremor in his voice. “But since you helped me recognize my title again, I think it is only fitting. At least, until I get you something proper.”
“Wesley,” she said, looking at the huge sapphire. “Are you asking me....?”
“If you'd like,” he said. “Not now, there's no rush, no pressure. But, if you'd like, maybe when I come back, maybe in a few years, whenever you like, I would be beyond honored if....” he swallowed. “If you'd be my wife.”
“I---” her breath caught in her throat. She had been proposed to a hundred times on stage, but this was real. Her hands shook as she met his eyes. “Yes.”
“Yes?” he said, almost in disbelief. “You'll marry me?”
“I will marry you,” she said, a grin sweeping over her features. “Of course I will marry you!”
Their lips met, passionate, stronger than before. They could not get enough of each other, their hands exploring each others' bodies, their faces pressed together.
“Mrs. Midshipman Wesley,” she said, staring at the ring and then him, in utter happiness. His heart soared, his eyes sparkling. He hadn't planned it this way, hadn't thought to have a ring. Somehow, though, it was perfect.
The reason he knew it was perfect, was the choice of title she had used.
“You'd be Lola, Countess of Rippon,” he said, softly. She shrugged.
“As long as I am your wife, I don't care what they call me,” she assured him. “Whatever you decide.”
“You shall be my wife, the Countess of Rippon, Mrs. Midshipman, and Lola Montclair, the actress,” he said. “You have experience playing multiple parts; I doubt this will trouble you.”
“It will thrill me,” she said, as the bell rang above deck. “That's my cue, isn't it?”
“You should go, yes,” he said. “But saying goodbye doesn't seem so final, now, does it?”
“Shall we tell the others?” she asked, staring into his eyes. Again, they became lost in each others' eyes, their hearts ablaze.
“You should tell them quickly,” said a voice. Both of them jumped two feet in the air. Their friends stood at the door of the wardroom, smiles on their faces. Aaron was in the middle, looking half stunned, but happy. “I can't believe you, Wesley. A girl this dramatic deserved a full proposal on deck.”
“No,” Lola said, just before the rounds of congratulations started. “This was perfect, just the way it is. This is perfect, now.”
“Well then, a toast is in order,” Aaron said. “To a new life. For all of us.”
Annabelle nudged Harold so hard he almost fell into the wall. He turned to her in shock, as Wesley went to get some glasses.
“What?” he asked.
“Take a hint, Harold,” she said, smirking. “What do you think?”
The man gaped.
“Annabelle, I don't have---I don't---I'm not---”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Do you want to get married next time you dock, or not?”
“---Yes---” he managed. Annabelle smiled.
“Good. I'll make plans accordingly, then,” she turned to Lola. “Men.”
“Annabelle!” Aaron scolded her. “You can't force Harold to do that.”
“I'm not forcing him to do anything,” Annabelle smiled.
“I'm just helping him along. Isn't that right, Harold?”
“I---” Harold looked half stunned. “Yes.”
“That's how I felt about five moments ago,” Wesley said, returning with some glasses.
“Are you staying with us ladies, then?” Lola asked Aaron, as the glasses were filled.
“Yes,” he replied. “For a season. And it appears to be a good thing, for the two of you will need someone to control you. Otherwise, these poor boys will come back to the most elaborate wedding plans since King George's own.”
“Then a toast,” Matheson raised a glass, nudging Corrigan to join in. “To a new life. For many of us.”
“And the same old, same old for the rest of us,” Corrigan said, which made Matheson smack him. “I mean—to a new life.”
“To new hope,” Lola said.
“To new hope,” they repeated, clinking glasses.
“Two weddings, an old title regained, a new part for me, and my best friend at my side,” she said. “I know the circumstances that brought us here were chaotic and sad...but the outcome could not make me happier. It's been a good few months.”
“And long may it remain so,” Aaron smiled at her. He knew that t
hey couldn't change the past, and the future was always uncertain. Right now though, on the lower deck, with this group of people, the future was bright, and the smiles gave him a new lease on life. “To happiness.”
“To happiness!” came the cry. And no one could think of a better toast than that.
EPILOGUE
“Lola! Lola!” Aaron pounded on the door of the room she was staying in. It was early morning, and she was barely awake. She pulled the door open in a frantic panic that something was wrong with him. The fact that he was calling for her and not his sister was a bit odd, but she wasn't going to question it if there was an emergency.
“Aaron, what's the matter?” she asked. Her body was tensed and she was ready to grab him, or call for help. Today, however, he looked healthy. It had been a couple of months since the boys had set sail, and Lola had come and gone several times on tour and to work. Each time she came back, Aaron looked better, stronger. Today, he looked over excited and flushed. “Are you alright? Shall I call for Annabelle?”
“I'm fine,” he grinned and she saw the old sparkle back in his eyes. “I just thought you might want to come with me to navy headquarters.”
“Why?” she asked, confused. As much as she loved Aaron, and loved the Navy for bringing her Wesley, she couldn't imagine why he would want her to come with him. “Are you summoned?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Do you want to come?”
She gave him a funny look.
“Do you not...feel well enough to go alone?” she asked. Sometimes, she felt like it was dragging information out of him.
“I could,” he said. “But I thought you might want to come and hear their plans for docking.”
“Whose plans for docking? Your ship?” her face lit up. “Yes, obviously, I want to come.”
“That is why I asked you,” he said. “Get dressed then.”
“We have to work on your communication,” she called through the door as she shut it. “You could have started with that information.”
“On the ship, I am praised for my communication,” he yelled back. “You can ask anyone.”
The Earl’s New Identity (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story) Page 7
