Charades: A Friends to Lovers Historical Romance

by Camilla Lee

  CHARADES

  A FRIENDS TO LOVERS HISTORICAL ROMANCE

  CAMILLA LEE

  Copyright © 2020 CAMILLA LEE

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Oliviaprodesign on Fiverr

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  "I'll marry him when I grow up! I swear I will," Elis proudly declared while pointing to Francis. Royce laughed at her, but she was used to it. She was almost three years younger than him and two years younger than Francis. Of course, they would laugh. But she knew what she wanted, and by God, she would succeed. Her name wouldn't be Elis if not.

  "I will marry him. Just you wait and see Royce!" She stuck out her tongue and ran away, daring Royce to chase her.

  Royce shook his head but obliged her. He was already becoming a man as his sixteenth birthday was approaching, but he couldn't find it in his heart to deny Elis. Not now, not ever.

  He didn't know that one day, his inability to deny her anything would bring him to his doom. She would be his doom. But he didn't know it yet.

  CHAPTER 1

  1813

  Elis was squinting to get a better view of Francis in the woods. She knew what she was doing was not ladylike in the least, but she had to know.

  Earlier at the party, Francis had seemed rather too intimate with a certain Lady. He had even let her touch his hair, which in itself was a remarkable feat. Francis was too vain about his hair; Elis would know since she had been tugging at it for as long as she could remember. But other than her, he did not let anyone touch it. Which is why Elis was not carefully ensconced within the branches of a tree, up enough to be able to see quite deep into the forest. She knew that men had affairs; she'd heard the men in her family talking about their exploits when they thought she was not within hearing range. But she had hoped that for Francis, they were just that – purely exploits. As she had witnessed the intimacy between Francis and a certain Lady (she had forgotten her name), she had realized that it may be more. What if he...? So this was why Elis Spencer, daughter of the Marquis of Rotterdam, was trying her hardest to steady herself in the tree.

  She thought she saw a movement far ahead, and she followed the blue material as it moved within a clear view. It was, indeed, Francis and his ladybird. She scowled as she saw his hand on her lower back and she muttered something not fit for a lady underneath her breath.

  "That blue looks sickly." She said, regarding the Lady's dress. "She looks much too ill. How could have Francis taken a liking to her?" She gritted her teeth, and just as she was about to climb even further, the branch supporting her broke, and with a cry of alarm, she fell.

  Her eyes immediately fluttered closed. Elis thought she’d died, except nothing hurt. Through her fogged mind, she heard a voice.

  "Hellish creature," the gruff voice was mumbling.

  Elis slowly opened her eyes and realized that she was sitting on something or rather, on someone.

  She rolled quickly to her left and onto her side, so she was now at level with the person who had shielded her.

  "Uh...hullo Royce," she whispered tentatively, watching her dear friend’s face contort in pain.

  "I... am sorry?" She tried, but he would not have it.

  "Are you daft? How could you climb up a tree? What if I hadn't been here?" He erupted into a tirade, trying to regain his balance and stand.

  "Sorry..." she grimaced, and then he frowned as well.

  "Are you hurt?" She quickly went to him.

  "No," he spat out and suddenly embraced her.

  "Don't you ever do something like that again, you hear me?" He told her, his voice full of emotion. Elis was embarrassed at her behavior. Royce was like a brother to her, he was also her best friend, and she had almost...

  "I am sorry," she whispered again against his chest, and he seemed to find her apology satisfying.

  "No more antics, all right?"

  Elis just nodded.

  "I mean it, Elis, no more antics. And you better keep your promise this time," he continued, and she inadvertently blushed. It was true that she had a nasty habit of getting into trouble, mostly when Francis was nearby. She just couldn't help it; she had to get his attention somehow, had to make him see her as a woman.

  "Oh, by the by, what are you doing here? I didn't know you planned to attend the party."

  "Yes, indeed," he sighed. "I did not plan to arrive, but there were some unexpected things that happened and..."

  "And?" Elis watched him with big eyes, her curious gaze nearly bringing him to his knees. Oh, how he loved the girl. No, that wasn't right, she wasn't a girl anymore, and she was almost eighteen."

  "I am leaving tomorrow." He finally said.

  "Leaving," she frowned. "Where?"

  "I bought a commission. I am joining the ranks."

  "You did not" Elis brought her hand to her mouth, horrified.

  "Afraid so," he gave her a tight smile.

  "Why, Royce? How could you? Do you have a death wish?"

  "Of course not... I just want to do something that matters. This will give me a purpose. I must do it." He told her in an anguished voice, hoping she would understand. He was just a third son, quite unlikely to ever inherit the title. And by God, he was in love with her, and how could he get her to love him back if he didn't love himself? He wanted to pave his own road in life, to be independent, and to have something to offer her. Yes, he wouldn't die because he knew what awaited him at home. The chance to be with Elis, to be deserving of her. That was his vow, here and now.

  Her eyes suddenly softened, and she brought her fingers to his cheek.

  "Don't you die on me? I won't forgive you!" And just like that, he knew. She understood.

  "Never," he said and embraced her.

  "You will wait for me, right?" He found himself saying.

  "Of course, you silly, I am not going anywhere. I will always be here, Royce. You are my dearest friend, after all."

  And with that, she dealt him a deadly blow. He didn't want to be her friend...but she was still pining for Francis. He would win her, he promised himself. He had to.

  CHAPTER 2

  June 12th, 1813

  Dearest Royce,

  I hope this letter finds you in good health (I won't accept anything else from you!) Everybody has felt your absence. It's been barely two months, and I still can't believe that you've left. Sometimes, in the mornings, I still wake up hoping you will arrive on my doorstep to go riding. Silly, isn't it? But then, of course, we have never been apart in our lives. Even Mr. Moustache misses you. He's been quite surly; lately, he doesn't even drink his milk. It is preposterous! He didn't even like you!

  Frances and I haven't spoken much of late. He is always in
Town nowadays (chasing after married ladies, I have no doubt). Mother says I will finally have my season next spring. Isn't it magnificent? I will yet be able to keep a closer eye on Francis. I told you I will marry him, and I will!

  How are you? I keep picturing you on the front, and every time I try to think positively, my mind betrays me, and I picture you bloody and suffering.

  Please tell me that is not true! Please let me know you are perfectly fine. I wish I could say more to you, but I do not know what. I miss you terribly! (Who else is to keep up with me?)

  Write to me soon!

  Your faithful friend,

  Elis

  July 2nd, 1813

  Elis,

  Your letter has brought me extreme joy. I miss you terribly, as well! I miss home, and I even miss Mr. Moustache! (That is something in itself).

  Our battalion hasn't suffered many casualties. Fortunately, I am yet unhurt, and I hope to remain so. War was nothing like I imagined.

  Oh, Elis!

  Everywhere I look, there is death. It beckons, and many follow. I want to be strong! For you, for my family... The smell of rotten flesh, the sight of corpses in all states of putrefaction, follow me even in my sleep. I have finally understood what death is. It comes when you least expect it. It has suddenly become so real. The other day I spoke with a soldier, a friendly fellow of about nineteen. Now he is dead! He gave his last breath, asking me to comfort his widowed mother. I wept! Oh, Elis, how I cried for the life he would never live and the pain that widowed woman will feel.

  I just hope I will make it whole. I so wish to see your face one more time!

  But I promised I wouldn't die, didn't I?

  I will come home, Elis! I will!

  Yours faithfully,

  -R

  July 28th, 1813

  Dearest Royce,

  I am so infinitely happy to hear you are all right. My heart goes to you for everything you have suffered and still have to bear. I just hope my letters will alleviate some homesickness and maybe take your mind off that blasted war.

  Mother has organized a small ball in the country, and she has let me attend it! Isn't it wonderful? I finally got a taste of what my season will be like! Of course, it would be a lot better if you could be there. Just in case, I'm saving you my second dance! (The first I have already promised to Francis)

  Papa danced with me at the country ball, and it was dreamy. Oh, Royce, it was so much fun! (Of course, I wasn't allowed to waltz; everybody frowned at me when I suggested)

  Mr. Moustache seems to have found himself a lady. He is always visiting the stables! (One of these days I shall catch him).

  I know that everything must seem grim right, but you must not lose hope, for you shall see, there is always light at the end of the tunnel.

  Your faithful friend,

  -Elis

  September 1st, 1813

  Dearest Royce,

  I haven't received any word from you. Are you all right? I pray every day that you are safe from all the perils of the war.

  Write to me!

  -Elis

  January 3rd, 1814

  Dearest Royce,

  You can't be dead! No... I will not allow it. You better write to me and tell me that you are all right! (Otherwise, I may have to take it upon myself and come to make sure you are)

  P.S. Mr. Moustache has kittens, a lot of them (I named one Royce, and I am giving him quite a hard time pretending it's you. So you'd better write!)

  Your faithful friend

  -Elis

  CHAPTER 3

  March 1814

  Royce looked at the letter in his hands, tears threatening to make their way down his cheek. He could not possibly respond to her. What should he say? That he was no longer the same carefree man, she had one known? That his mind was a dark and scary place full of cannon sounds and pictures of splashing blood. No, war was not how he had imagined it would be. He had already lost so many friends on the battlefield, some even in his arms. He felt tainted in a way, and he did not want to taint her with his worries and experiences.

  He shook himself out of his reverie and put on his coat. It was time to face the life he'd chosen. He got out of his tent and meticulously folded the letter and put it into the pocket of his jacket.

  He saw Wellington speaking with a few soldiers, and he was prepared to go to them when a cannon resounded in the stillness.

  "We're under attack!" Some soldiers yelled, and everyone was hurrying to their positions.

  What followed was a blood bath. Bullets were flying right and left. Anguished cries clouded the judgment.

  Royce didn't even have the time to think of Elis one last time. He used his rifle with practiced perfection and tried to evade the bullets aiming for his persona.

  "You've done great, son," he heard a gruff from behind.

  "Now listen to me. Up ahead, we have our provision of firearms, but it seems they have taken them over. I want you to try and divert them as much as you can, and a few others will try and get them back."

  "Yes, sir." He said, recognize the authoritative voice as being Wellington's".

  He hurried and put himself in the enemy's line of sight. He started firing and firing, but between all those shots, he didn't realize anymore, which were his and which were theirs.

  He felt a numbness overcome his body, and his knees couldn't hold his body's weight anymore. He crumbled to the ground but not before shooting one last time and hitting the highest-ranking officer square in the chest.

  His vision was clouded, but he thought he heard Elis' laughter.

  "Am I going home?" He croaked.

  "Yes, sergeant, you are," a voice whispered.

  April 1814

  When he came around, it had already been two weeks since the end of the war. The victory was theirs!

  Everyone was celebrating and drinking and cursing Napoleon. His exile to Elba was welcomed by people of all ages, ethnicity, and sex. It was as if the whole of the earth had but one common enemy: Napoleon.

  Royce wasn't feeling particularly energetic. He had taken three bullets in. It was a wonder that he was alive. Wellington himself had come to congratulate him and to announce him of his future distinction. It seemed that he had won himself a title for helping secure the victory and for killing a general. Well...There was that. Besides the fact that he ached all over and his wounds did not let him stand up very well, he was hopeful for the future. He was finally going home! To Elis!

  She must have had her first ball by now. He felt sorry he had missed her come out and the dance she had reserved for him. Suddenly, with a pang of pain, he wondered if she wasn't already married by now. Fear gripped him. It was certainly possible.

  "When can I go home?" He asked his doctor when he came into the tent.

  "Oh, don't worry, within a week, you'll be boarding a ship home."

  Royce sighed and allowed himself to rest. A week... He had to regain his strength. He just had to.

  CHAPTER 4

  "Francis, where are you?" Elis asked as she made her way through the garden. She was sure she had seen him go through the garden doors. Her come-out ball was a total bore. Francis had danced with her for her first dance as promised, but after that, he had quickly excused himself and wandered off somewhere. She had had to bear the company of obnoxious gentlemen all night; she had even had to dance with them. This was all Royce's fault. If he had been here... but she didn't want to dwell on that. She couldn't let herself think of him...

  "Ahh," she heard giggles in a corner, and she hurried.

  "F..." she was about to say his name when she caught sight of him and a lady...embracing.

  "What about that silly debutante...What was her name? Eleanor? "

  "Elis," Frances corrected the woman.

  "She was all but panting all over you. I swear the girl is so infatuated." She laughed, and Elis could feel her cheeks reddening.

  "She's always been like that, following me around. She has some strange notion that I am g
oing to marry her." He said, his voice half mockery.

  "And are you?"

  "God, no! I'm not daft!" He laughed and started kissing the Lady's neck.

  "Are you sure? She's got quite a dowry, or so I hear."

  "All the money in the world could not make up for her lack of manners. The girl is a hoyden!"

  Elis could not hear anything more. She dashed for her room, not caring that it went against every rule of etiquette. Tears were falling down her cheeks, and she was doing her absolute best not to start wailing. She certainly felt like it. How could he talk like that about her? It was enough that he didn't return her affection. She'd known that so a certain degree. But to speak so maliciously, so mockingly of her... All her hopes were destroyed in a moment.

  "Good lord..." she whispered once she managed to get to the confines of her room.

  "How dare he?" She hurled herself onto her bed and continued to cry until she fell asleep.

  "If only Royce were here..." was her last thought.

  A month had passed since her come-out ball. As soon as she awoke, as usual, Elis went to her desk and penned a letter to Royce. She knew it would never reach him; she wouldn't even bother to send it. But he was her best friend, her only friend it seemed. He would comfort her and be kind to her had he been here. She was still harboring some hope that he was alive. There had been no notice of his death, had it? That meant hope. Although she had already started mourning him...

  Dearest Royce,

  She started as she started every day.

  "Elis," she heard a voice at her door.