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

by Jasmine Ashford

  “Are you alright?” she asked as they walked. “I only ask because I am a healer, so if....”

  “Fine,” he said, rubbing the side of his chin, where red-blond stubble was growing in. “Fine.”

  “Of course,” she replied, ducking her head to the ground. Although she looked demure, she was watching his gait. There was something wrong with him, although she was certain it was in his mind, and not in his body. “It has been a long war, for all of us.”

  He glanced at her then. “Your people...” He was not sure whether that was the right word. “Are they here?”

  “No,” Enola said. “I have no family here. Except for Jacob. Do you?” She was referring to the wives and camp followers that marched with them. Holde's faced changed and she regretted her words.

  “No,” he said, his jaw hardening. “No.”

  “My apologies, sir,” she said. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  He turned his head toward her. “How did you know that I lost someone?”

  “Would you react that way if you did not?” she asked patiently. “There is no shame in loss or grief.”

  He shook his head. “This is war. It is expected.”

  “It is expected, but not easier because of it,” she answered, trying to find common ground. “We see loss differently. We believe that we started in Nature and will end there, only to cycle through. Nothing is ever really gone; everyone contributes to the circle of life.”

  He said nothing for a few moments, as they brushed through the high grass. “I wish I could see it the same,” he said. “But my wife is dead.”

  “I am sorry,” she repeated, knowing that there was no way to get him to see her side of things; at least not now. Besides, he was about to head into a strategic meeting; it was no time to debate religion and death.

  Jacob was standing outside the officer's tent, clearly waiting for Holde. He glanced at Enola as she stepped backwards to let him enter. “Are you coming?”

  “I am sorry?” she looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Where?”

  “Inside,” he said and she blinked.

  “Did I miss something? You are having a strategy meeting, are you not? I am not a soldier, Jacob.”

  “Indeed you are not,” he answered. “But you are a representative for your people, and my commander has some...plans, remember?”

  “For me? I was willing to come when it was just a plain meeting...are you sure he wants to see me?” she asked. “Jacob, you have been playing up the fact that I am a princess, but I am no longer...”

  “Can you just hear what he has to say?” Jacob asked. “Besides, Lord Bamber is in there.”

  “And?” she asked, confused. Jacob lowered his voice.

  “I do not know what to do with a Lord, Enola. I have never met nobility in my life.”

  “I do not think he is a real lord,” Enola answered. “I think he married in.”

  “That does not make it better,” Jacob replied and she sighed.

  “You realize how unorthodox this is, do not you?” she asked.

  “This is war, Enola, nothing is unorthodox. Or everything is,” he said as he held open the tent flap and she ducked inside. At least, if they could not sleep, the day was interesting.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE PLAN

  THE PLAN

  No,” As soon as Enola heard the Colonel's plan, she glared. “Colonel Evenclear, it is impossible.”

  “All this time, Enola, you have represented yourself as a princess, and you now tell me that you cannot assure a Native alliance.”

  Her eyes flashed as she looked at the British soldiers, staring her down. She was not afraid; she did not think she was in danger. However, what they were suggesting was impossible.

  “My people have chosen to stay out of this war. My tribe may be large, and others may have chosen to side with you, but that is a choice. We cannot...”

  “We need the numbers,” Colonel Evenclear stared her down.

  Enola felt so many words at the tip of her tongue, and none of them were polite. Luckily, Jacob saw the anger on her face, and cut her off.

  “Enola will find a way, sir. She always does. Leave it to us; we will have their numbers.”

  “Jacob!” Enola snapped, but he put a hand on her wrist, warning her. She gritted her teeth, but fell silent. The colonel glanced between the two of them, and then nodded.

  “So it will be done. You gentlemen have no objection to this?”

  “No sir,” Harold said. “I think it’s a brilliant plan. The easiest way to win a battle is simply to outnumber them.”

  “I would like to talk to my strategist,” Aaron put in, and all heads turned toward him. Holde raised an eyebrow.

  “Can you not make a decision yourself, Captain?”

  Jacob's eyebrows went up in shock, and Enola glanced to the scruffy Army Captain. Everyone else was offended, but she saw something else in the words that came out a bit too harsh. His words spoke of someone who wanted a mate like that; someone who was alone and desperate for help on such important matters. He was jealous of the assistance that the Pirate Lord clearly had.

  “Of course I can,” Aaron said evenly. “But he is brilliant at these things. He was---” He suddenly glanced at Harold, and changed his mind. “He is good at these things.”

  “Of course,” Colonel Evenclear turned to Holde. “Major?”

  “It is fine,” Holde said. “The more the merrier.”

  “Excellent,” the Colonel said. “Then, my Lord. Gentlemen. My Lady. Dismissed.”

  Enola noticed the pirate lord's eyes flicker at the title, but he said nothing. There was something curious about the way he looked up, as if he thought his own name was being called. Enola did not particularly want to talk to Jacob after that exchange, and she fled from the tent as soon as she could, walking with purpose down to the river.

  Of course he thought she could do it; of course he thought that she could bring the Natives together. He did not know just how bad the situation was; that she’d walked away from them. He was a forgiving sort; he thought that all would be well.

  In addition, maybe, if she had been born low, that might be the case. However, she was the daughter of the chief, as high ranking as any princess from the world Jacob had come from.

  This was not going to work and she knew it. They would not just be able to walk in and get the entire tribe on their side.

  Enola crouched down by the stream, dipping her hand into the cool water to center herself. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise around her.

  Sometimes, she felt like she belonged here. Other times, she was convinced that she was completely lost.

  Footsteps alerted her, and she turned.

  “Jacob, I---” The fire was there in her voice as she rose. However, when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find that it was not Jacob at all, but Major Holde. “Sir.”

  “I wanted to apologize,” he said, surprising her. “For the way they treated you in there. That was no way to speak to a lady and I should have spoken up.”

  “Oh,” she said, trying to swallow her words. “It is fine. Really.”

  “It is not,” he said. “I have been in the brothels of London and I have been to court to see the King and I have never heard any class of people speak to a lady that way.”

  “Things are different in the colonies,” she replied, drawing her cloak closer around her. “We are more equal, we work...harder. Not harder, that is not the right word, but...”

  “I think I understand what you mean,” he replied. “My wife, she worked within the military, alongside the men, and would be horrified if I suggested otherwise.”

  “Your wife?” she said, surprised. He was married, and she did not know why the fact hit her like a punch in the stomach. What did it matter if he was married? Most of the officers were, the women taking solace in their high salaries and the freedom that their absence gave them. “What did she do?”

  “She---” Holde cut hi
mself off, shaking his head. “It does not matter.”

  Enola knew at once that it was his wife who had died. Moreover, from the way he was reacting, it was clearly something tragic; unexpected. Her heart broke for him. She knew loss, she knew grief, had seen it many times. Even though she was at peace with the bodies returning to nature, it did not make the gaping hole of being alone any easier.

  “My mother died unexpectedly,” she said quietly. “She was killed by an American skirmish. We were only trying to help.”

  “The Americans will do that,” he replied. “Kill without thought; civilians, it does not matter to them. The British do not do that.”

  “I would not say that,” Enola answered. “But my anger is with the Americans on most days. That is why I chose to help Jacob.”

  Holde smiled softly. “And has the lad not offered to marry you yet?”

  Enola almost threw up at the suggestion. “Jacob? No. No,” she shuddered. “No.”

  Holde laughed at that, a twinkle in his eyes. It was the first time she had really seen him smile. “I see.”

  “Jacob is a brother to me,” Enola said. “We would never...He would never....”

  “I see that the thought disturbs you,” he chuckled, holding up his hand. “I am sorry I brought it up.”

  “As long as you promise to never bring it up again,” she said.

  “Ah, that felt good,” he said, shaking his head. “I have not laughed in quite some time. Thank you.”

  “War does not make much to laugh at,” she answered as she wiped her wet hands on her skirt. “I should not be here, anyways. I can rarely get away for a moment or two without someone needing my help. The river is quite peaceful, if you wanted a moment to yourself. It is my favorite spot.”

  “Then I shall take you up on it,” he replied, dipping his head. “Thank you.”

  “A pleasure,” she said, as she headed off. However, the way he smiled stuck in her mind's eye as she walked back to the camp, and she felt the tension in her chest lift just a little.

  In the large white tent of the captain, Wesley was studying the plans laid out by the colonel with intensity. Aaron was perched on the edge of the desk, although Harold would have really preferred if he was sitting in a chair. As soon as Wesley gave his approval, to plan was to go see Annabelle and James, who had probably heard exactly who was in the camp by now.

  “The fatal flaw,” Wesley said, his days of the fastest-rising mind in the British Navy not lost on him.

  “Is here. The battle plans that he has for the attack assume that we have the Native forces with us. If we subtract their numbers, the entire plan has to change. And I do not see a backup plan.”

  “Because we would not have the numbers to attack the American forces otherwise,” Harold said. “Not as we are, not even with your help.”

  “Are not you two Lords?” Aaron said. “You have armies at your disposal.”

  Harold rolled his eyes, giving Aaron a look. “And you know as well as I do, Former Lord Bamber, that those armies are across an ocean and difficult to raise. Your tenants in particular....”

  “They always liked me,” Aaron said, and it came out harsher than he meant it to. “Sorry.”

  “No,” Harold said. “They should. They mourn you still.”

  “Ah well,” Aaron replied and Wesley cleared his throat.

  “The situation is the same with me. My tenants in the county will be unlikely to respond quickly to a cry for help. I have been out of touch with them for quite awhile.”

  “If you write Lola...” Aaron started and Wesley snapped.

  “I am not writing Lola. God knows where she even is.”

  “She is on tour,” Harold said, softly and evenly. “She was negotiating a new contract just as we were leaving. She was hoping that...”

  “As long as the Countess Rippon continues to disgrace the name on stage, I shall have no further conversation about her,” Wesley put down the plans, practically hurling them into Aaron's hands. “That is my take on it, gentlemen.”

  With that, he spun and exited the room. Harold turned to Aaron in shock. “What the…”

  “Do not ask me, you were just with Lola,” Aaron replied. “What did she say happened?”

  “Please can we go see Annabelle?” Harold said, instead of answering. “This is more theatrics than a production of Romeo and Juliet.”

  “At least we can agree on that,” Aaron rose. “Do you want to tell Colonel Evenclear these will not work? He will take it better from a British Lord than a pirate.”

  “I do not see what we are going to tell him,” Harold said. “Especially if we do not have a better solution. I cannot just hand him the plans and shake my head. Wesley could have stayed long enough to answer a solution.”

  “I am sure he has one,” Aaron answered. “Could you just give him a moment to calm down? Imagine if your marriage was breaking down and you were a thousand miles away and helpless.”

  “I would go back,” Harold answered. “I would not do that to Annabelle. Never.”

  “Well,” Aaron replied. “Sometimes we do not have a choice in the path we choose.”

  “Aaron...” Harold had not meant to bring up the tension again, but it hung thick in the air, like a rain cloud. Aaron shook his head, a fake smile on his face.

  “Come, let's see my sister,” he said. “Or, to the world, the Lady Annabelle, your wife.”

  Harold did not know what to say as they walked. It was so odd. They used to be in step; in sync. When they fought battles together; they knew each other’s movements, thoughts, without a word. Now, it was like they were strangers, trying to find common ground.

  He had not asked Aaron to give up his life. He would have gone to the noose after the jury found that the captain had been pushed on their last ship if that was what it took. However, Aaron was supposed to be dying, he was supposed to breathe his last and save his friends. Instead, the elaborate hoax that he and Lola had concocted had fooled everyone until it was too late to change their minds. However, if they had had a crystal ball and could see the future; Harold wondered if they would have done things the same.

  Was Aaron happier in this life; in this freedom he claimed to want; free from a throne; a crown; from rules and regulations? Or was a slow death without his identity much worse than a fast one?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  TWINS

  TWINS

  Annabelle's face when Aaron walked into the tent was worth anything Harold could give. They were twins; and they had been apart far too long. He embraced his sister, a wide grin on his face. Annabelle was too shocked to say much for a moment, but when she finally did, she gave him a little push.

  “I should have known,” she grinned. “This is exactly like you.”

  “Look, I just wanted to see the colonies,” Aaron said with a grin. “It is not my fault you two decided to follow me. But this is brilliant, isn't it? We'll have an adventure.”

  Annabelle quirked an eyebrow. “If that is what you want to call it, yes, brother, we can have an adventure. Not quite the kind of adventure we planned on having as children, is it?”

  “I do not know,” he shrugged. “We did play pirates a lot. And now I am one, so really, it is exactly the kind of adventure.”

  “Should I leave you two to catch up?” Harold piped up. “One of us should tell the colonel that his brilliant plan isn't going to work. And I have a feeling that it is going to be me.”

  “Of course, my Lord, that is your duty,” Aaron's eyes twinkled. “If you so wish it.”

  “Thank you, Aaron,” Harold rolled his eyes as he left the tent. Aaron was right, of course. As the Lord, it was his duty. He supposed he had not quite realized how much was attached to the title until he married Annabelle. He was happy to do his duty; duty was half the reason he breathed. However, having Aaron at his side was surreal, reminding him of the sacrifice that had been made.

  He was half hoping that Wesley would be around to do the dirty work, but the Irish f
irst mate had stormed off to somewhere unknown. All that was to be found was the young Captain Jacob, bent over the map. He looked frazzled when Harold entered, and the Lord regretted the next few words out of his mouth. Nevertheless, Jacob did not seem surprised at all.

  “I know,” he said. “I knew as soon as he presented it that it was risky. And if I am honest with you, the chances of Enola convincing her people are slim to none. She is...different from the rest of them, even if she is a princess.”

  “Should that not give her command of her people?” Harold asked and Jacob sighed.

  “Maybe. I do not know. We need to try, at least.”

  “I understand your position, Captain,” Harold said. “But our strategist...the first mate...he was the best in the industry when he sailed with the Navy.”

  He could not believe that had come tumbling up. Jacob looked up in puzzlement, but to his credit, did not comment on the fact that this pirate was likely a traitor to King and Country.

  “Let me talk to her,” he said. “She may have some ideas. She is angry at me at the moment, but she will come around.”

  “Of course,” Harold said. “My men will march with yours, have no fear of that. I just need to be confident we are making the best plan for their success.”

  “That is good of you,” Jacob answered. “For it seems no matter what plan we make, they will be in danger of losing their lives.”

  “Well, of course,” Harold replied. “It is war, after all.”

  “Of course,” Jacob said, although he did not sound convinced. “Thank you.”

  “Our pleasure,” Harold said, as he ducked out of the tent. It occurred to him that he should probably speak to Holde about this, to make sure they were in agreement. As he scanned the camp, he found Holde at the main camp fire, his sergeant at his side. To Harold's surprise, he also found Enola, stirring a pot on the fire and speaking casually.