How To Love A Fake Prince_The Regency Renegades_Beauty and Titles_A Regency Romance Story

by Jasmine Ashford

  “Wii,” she replied, meeting his eyes. How many years had it been since they had seen each other? Two? Three? How much had changed? What news did he have?

  His eyes were more lined; his mouth harder. He had grown a few inches, a man now. His jaw hardened at the words, and he held her gaze.

  “Enola?” Patrick asked, picking up on her tensed shoulders.

  She said nothing, watching her cousin. She felt Jacob at her back, ready to spring into action if Ter'an's temper flared.

  However, Ter'an had no choice, as she knew that he would not.

  Ter'an sank to his knees, dipping his head low.

  “What is he doing?” Holde asked, confused.

  “He is bowing to you,” Enola said. “You outrank him now; you are a prince. And unless something has changed in the past few years, you are now the male heir to my father, before him.”

  “What?” Holde asked, and she squeezed his hand.

  “It is not like the British. We are equal, men and women, and we often inherit through the mother's side. I am my father's heir....but you are higher ranking than Ter'an right now.”

  “I never want to take anyone's place,” he said, and she tried to smile.

  “For the war,” she said, and he fell silent.

  For the war? But what war, exactly, had he gotten himself into?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GETTING READY TO MOVE OUT

  GETTING READY TO MOVE OUT

  It's a few days march to where my people are,” Enola said the next morning in the camp. It was dawn, and no one was sure how to ask her how her wedding night was appropriately. They hadn't had a reception; they hadn't gone to bed in the same tent. As far as the world seemed to be concerned, the only thing that was different was that she wore a ring. “But I think we can make it in less time, depending on the urgency of the situation.”

  “And they will let us in?” the colonel asked.

  “They will let Jacob and I come to them,” Enola replied. “And my...husband.” It felt odd to say those words, knowing that it wasn't a true marriage; a love match. She knew she had to keep up this charade until they trusted the British. She just wasn't sure how long that would actually be.

  “Carter?” the colonel's eyes flickered upward.

  “That's true,” Jacob said instead. “Her cousin was at the wedding; he'll verify that it happened. As for letting me in, they did for years in our childhood.”

  “Excellent,” the colonel said. “We'll move out this afternoon. Prepare your men; prepare the troops.”

  “Aye,” Jacob said, holding the tent flap for Enola. Her face had grown pale and he was concerned as they stepped out into the bright side. “Alright?”

  “I've just realized what we've done,” she said with a sigh. “They might never trust me again.”

  “That may be true,” Jacob answered. “But at the same time, they might never need to again, if we die on this battlefield.”

  “Thank you, Jacob, always a ray of sunshine,” she answered. “I should...pack, if we're going to march within a few hours.”

  “You should talk to your husband,” he said. “Neither of you have said a word to each other since we've gotten back. And truthfully, Enola, your people might be confused if you barely look at him.”

  “It's not that I'm not fond of him, Jacob...” she said. “I am. He's a good man. But that epic love story that the books go on about?”

  “It's not as if we are surrounded by shining examples of love,” Jacob said. “Have you seen the way the actress and the earl look at each other? And Aaron doesn't talk about his wife, whereas Harold and Lady Bamber look like they are constantly on display.”

  “Wasn't it you who said British marriages weren’t for love?” she asked. “It's for convenience, for status. And we've certainly done that. I will talk to him though, if nothing else. Maybe teach him a few words so he can greet my father, at the very least.”

  “Every man's nightmare, to meet his father-in-law,” Jacob replied. “I'll see you later.”

  “Aye,” Enola said, crossing the field. She knew exactly where Holde was right now. She had been trying hard not to look like she was keeping tabs on exactly where he was and what he was doing. That would seem obsessive; like she was sweet on him. She couldn't keep her eyes off his shirtless figure now, standing with his men across the field. They had just come back from a run, and it was a hot day. His broad chest glistened in the sunlight as he took a long gulp of water.

  She paused so long that he actually looked in her direction. Enola tipped her head and he understood that she wanted him to come over. Leaving his men, as they watched him with grins, he crossed the field.

  “My Lady?”

  “You should call me by my name, seeing as we are married,” she reminded him gently. “We are to march out this afternoon, but I'm sure that you've already heard.”

  “I have,” he said. “And straight to your people.”

  “The point of all this,” she pointed out and he nodded.

  “Are you well this day?”

  “I am,” she replied. “Last night wasn't....too late.”

  “No,” he said. “I got to sleep at a decent hour.”

  “Yes.” She realized this conversation was turning awkward quickly. “It was nice though.”

  “It was.” His eyes lingered on hers a moment longer than was needed. “Have you broken your fast yet?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Jacob and I got called into a meeting with the colonel at the top of the sunrise. I was going to...if you'd like to join me.”

  “Let me just...get a shirt,” he said, which made her giggle. He never intended to be funny, it wasn't in his manner. Somehow, he just was. He made her laugh at the most unexpected times, which always sent a shock of warmth through her heart.

  She had some bannock, a traditional Native food, which she broke up for him, with a few eggs from the chickens that they kept. She was surprised they were still laying, but everyone was stretched to their lengths within this war.

  “That smells wonderful,” he said, coming up behind her and startling her. “What is it?”

  “Have you never had bannock before?” she asked, handing him a piece. “You'll never eat anything else.”

  “I---” He took a bite, and then his eyes widened “You may be right.”

  Sitting on the logs outside her fire, she felt comfortable; at home with him across from her. They ate in silence for awhile, sneaking glances at each other.

  She told herself that this was silly; they were married. If she wanted to touch him, she could. She could take his arm; she could kiss him. Nevertheless, all of those things still felt forbidden and made her heart race.

  “Do you think that it will go well?” he asked, as they finished.

  “With my people? It won't go...smoothly, but it will go,” she said. “To be honest, it's not the marriage I'm worried about.”

  “What is it then?” he asked, and she sighed.

  “There's so much tension in this camp. The colonel does not value Jacob, the commander's wife is distracting him, the pirate lord is not strong and his first mate seems convinced to live his life at the bottom of a bottle since the actress returned. Lola seems...wonderful, but we will leave her behind, at least.”

  “Oh, they'll be alright,” Holde said, surprising her.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Souls like that are hot headed, stronger than anyone else. Love makes you weak, and they don't know what to do with that, so they fight instead. Just like...”

  He trailed off and she realized what he was talking about. “Just like your first wife.”

  “Yes,” he said, looking at the ground. “I'm sorry.”

  “No,” she murmured as her hand covered his. “It's fine. It's fine to talk about her; to share your memories of her. You loved her and I am happy to keep her memory alive, if you wish it.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” he said. “It takes a strong woman to be comfortable with
such discussion.”

  “What's to be comfortable with?” she asked in confusion. “I'm sure I would have been delighted to meet her.”

  “Perhaps,” Holde said. “As stubborn tongued as Theresa was, she had a kind heart, and was open to anyone who returned the favor. I think she would have liked you.”

  “Good,” Enola said and they fell into silence again.

  Across the camp, Aaron and his sister glanced out the tent flap, watching them. “Well, they seem to be getting along,” Aaron said. “At the very least, they are not killing each other.”

  “She's paying attention to him,” Annabelle replied. “That's something.”

  There was something about the tone of her voice that made Aaron turn. “Annabelle?” he asked and his sister sighed.

  “It's nothing,” she replied.

  However, Aaron knew his sister much better than that. “Is it Harold?” he asked and Annabelle shrugged.

  “It's silly to be complaining about, really. I just wish he wasn't so ...busy all the time. Work consumes him, Aaron, it always has. You must know this.”

  “Of course I know that about him,” Aaron replied. “That's why he's risen to the top so quickly. But if he's neglecting you...”

  “How can I complain about being neglected?” Annabelle asked. “I have two beautiful children, he denies me nothing. When I asked to come, he didn't even blink.”

  “You asked to come?” Aaron put the pieces together quickly. “Because you felt he was neglecting you?”

  Annabelle's tears spilled over. “I just...I wanted to spend more time with him. I didn't want him to miss out on his son's first steps, his first words. He missed that with our daughter; I couldn't watch it again.”

  “Annabelle...” Aaron ran a hand through his hair. “You realize that a battlefield is dangerous, right? It's not the romantic life that the books talk about.”

  “Obviously,” she said. “I've lived my whole life around all of you, if you remember. But if these were his last moments, at least it would be at arm's length from me.”

  “Oh, sister,” he sighed as he opened his arms to give her a hug. “Everything is going to be fine. If we could survive all of this, we’ll survive another day.”

  “Well, I don't know that, do I?” she asked, into his shoulder. “I'm keeping you, don't worry about me.”

  “If you are going to worry about us, I get to worry about you,” he said. “Besides, you are the mother to the heir of the Bamber dynasty. You deserve an armed guard.”

  She wiped her tears away. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I had a boy. I'm sorry that I bumped you and Kirsten and...”

  “Annabelle, stop,” he said gently. “Nothing could affect that. I'm not angry at you. I've just been....upset at a life that is now gone by.”

  “Harold feels that,” she said. “All he's talked about is how he feels he's lost you as a friend; as his brother.”

  Aaron sighed. “I admit, we have not been getting along as well as we used to. But we are different people than we used to be.”

  “No,” she pushed a hand against his chest. “You are the same people inside, without a doubt. And if you do go into this battle and lose...do you want it to be when you are at odds with each other?”

  “I don't know if it's that easy to repair,” he answered. “It takes time.”

  “So start,” Annabelle said. “Go and find him, ask him how his day is going.”

  “Oy,” Aaron smiled at his twin. “You were always about doing things now, weren't you? I don't even know where he is.”

  “He was on the ship,” she answered. “But he may be on land by now. Just go and see him. You don't have to have an epiphany.”

  “Only if you're sure you're alright?” Aaron asked. Annabelle nodded, wiping away her tears.

  “I'm fine,” she assured him. “Packing is easier when you're not here anyways. Look at how you folded this shirt. Has the Navy taught you nothing?”

  “Oh it did,” Aaron grinned. “And piracy undid it swiftly. I'll be back, sister.”

  “Take your time,” she called as he headed out of the tent.

  His head was so caught up in the conversation that he didn't notice Wesley until he walked right into him. “Oof,” he grunted, the impact hard.

  “Sir,” Wesley said, looking pale. “My apologies.”

  “It's alright, nothing broken,” Aaron said, wincing. “You don't look quite right, though.”

  “I just...” Wesley squinted into the sun. “Should have thought more about sleep and less about...”

  “Another drink?” Aaron asked. “This does not bode well for marching into a battle.”

  “We're marching today?” Wesley asked, surprised.

  “They are married, aren't they? That's the last piece of the puzzle,” Aaron pointed out and Wesley smirked.

  “Let them share in the misery of others, then,” Wesley said.

  Aaron rolled his eyes. He was not in the mood for this amount of lip from his supposed responsible first mate. “Come with me,” he said, taking him by the wrist. “Come on, stop struggling.”

  “I'm not a child,” Wesley growled at his captain, but Aaron didn't care. He found Matheson, who was eating breakfast with Corrigan. “Cap, let me go.”

  “Matheson,” Aaron said, and Matheson looked up, half amused. “Here's Wesley. Sober him up, and let him know that not all married people are miserable. And remind him that he's my best friend, same as Lola.”

  “Ah, I see the trouble,” Matheson said calmly. “Have a seat, Wesley. Put some food in your belly and we'll have a chat.”

  “Really?” Wesley looked between the two of them. “I can handle a drink and a complaint about my so-called wife.”

  “Hey,” Corrigan barked at him, in a way he used to do when Wesley was barely a teenager. Wesley actually jumped, and Aaron smirked. “Sit.”

  Wesley sat and Aaron winked at Matheson before heading off to find Harold. So much had changed since they had all sailed together in the Navy. However, at the same time, not much had. Annabelle was right; they were the same people underneath.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MOVING OUT

  MOVING OUT

  Lola wasn't sure whether she wanted to see Wesley or not when she came to the camp that afternoon. She had agreed to collect the wedding presents the night before. Even though Enola and Holde had said they didn't want any, there were lots. Holde's men had put together trinkets, and Annabelle had gone all in, buying the things one would buy a normal couple. Of course, Annabelle hadn't thought that neither of them had a house, or a life they were setting up. They were crossing the country together, and living out of tents. They had no need for matching cutlery, but Lola had promised to deliver it from the church today nonetheless.

  The camp was a flurry of activity, and she alighted from the carriage with haste. She knew the feel of an army in a panic, and she was worried that the American forces would come over the bridge at any moment and jump into battle. She took a moment to take stock and noticed that they were carrying boxes and sacks. They were moving out, and it was with haste. “Aaron,” she caught him as he went by, scraggly pirates at his elbow. “Aaron, what's happening?”

  “Miss Lola,” Aaron said with a grin, his old nickname for her. “We're marching off today, as you can see. Nothing is in order, everything is chaos and that's the fun of it.”

  “Today?” Lola paled. “But you can't... not so soon.”

  “That's the way it is,” he paused. “The wedding gifts, of course. I forgot.”

  “Should I just...take them with me?” she asked, unsure about how to proceed. “Where's Enola?”

  “She and Holde should be at the loading carts...Here, come with me,” Aaron said and indicated she should follow. Lola fell in line beside the pirates, catching sight of Matheson and smiling as they hurried across the field. “You'll want to see him before you go,” Aaron said as they were walking.

  “Who?” she asked, confused.

  “The King
,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Your husband, who do you think?”

  “No, that's fine,” she answered, but her voice betrayed her.

  “You still love him,” Aaron said softly. “I know you do.”

  “I love who he used to be,” she said. “Not this drunken sod who thinks nothing about killing. I know it's part of your job, as fake lives are mine, but he shows no remorse. He seems the most comfortable when his sword is dripping blood.”

  “That's not true,” Aaron said, although he knew that Wesley had been acting more bloodthirsty as of late. “He's just...trying to distract himself.”

  “From what?” she asked. “He wasn't on trial; he didn't die. He has a house he can come home to, he isn't in hiding. And while I appreciate his solidarity with you...that was not the decision we made for him.”

  Aaron stopped, the men going around as the chaos swirled around him. He shared a look with her, remembering that night in the hospital when they decided their whole world had changed.

  “No,” he agreed. “That is not the choice we made for him. And I agree, he should come home to you. But I fear time has ravaged him, Lola, and you need to be gentle with him; kind.”

  “Why, when he does not return it?” she asked. “I have always been clear that I will be true to myself first and foremost. I am a lady of the stage, he knew that, and now he is ashamed by it.”

  “He's not ashamed!” Aaron cried. “He's terrified of it.”

  “What?” she gaped.

  “Lola, you travel the world, you are adored. The most beautiful people surround you, and everything is romance and beauty. Wesley was a shy, speechless, puppy dog, with his brain too fast for the rest of us, before he met you. He is an earl, yes, but the world that you live in, he fears you will see right through him.”

  “That's ridiculous,” she replied. “I loved him.”

  “You loved him?” Aaron asked and Lola shook her head. The past tense of the word bothered him, mostly because he knew it wasn't true. The two of them got on so well before, and he couldn't accept that it was over. He needed to know there was some happiness left in the world; some normalcy.