“I met someone the other night who told me that being in the navy must be a vacation,” she said. “Sailing, traveling. I told them they were mad.”
Wesley managed to crack a smile at that.
“Perhaps in theory. But in practice...”
“You never see anything because you're too busy working?” she finished, and he laughed. It was so easy to talk with her, so natural.
“Exactly.”
“It's the same when I tour with the theater,” she replied, just as the others entered. “This here, this is vacation. Aaron. How are you?”
“I should ask you the same question,” Lord Bamber clearly had no qualms as to decency, and wrapped her in a hug. “I'm so sorry.”
“It's more the shock than anything,” she replied. “We had only known him a week, outside of rehearsal. He was promising though.”
“Had he replaced the last one?” Bamber asked. “I think you started with another Gawain.”
“We did, but he fell ill,” Lola said, and then shook herself. “Enough talk of tragedy, gentlemen. Shall we dine?”
“If it pleases the lady,” he said, and then bellowed through the house. “Annabelle? Are things ready?”
Wesley grinned. “That is not very Lord-like of you,” he said.
“You would know,” Bamber teased, and went off to find his sister, leaving Lola confused.
“Why would you know?” she asked. Wesley felt his heart leap into his throat.
“Oh, he's jesting,” Wesley said, and she took his arm.
“As always,” she answered, as they headed towards the dining room. “When we were children, everything to come out of his mouth was a joke. A straight answer out of him is a miracle.”
“I share a ship with him,” Wesley said. “It's a miracle the Captain hasn't thrown him over the side. His saving grace is that he's amusing.”
“That he is,” Lola smiled as they entered the dining room.
It was, true to Annabelle's word, fit for a king. With the candles blazing and main courses already laid out, even Lola, who was used to theatrics, gasped.
“Annabelle, you've out done yourself,” she said. Annabelle simply smiled.
“I figured you needed something to bring a smile to your face,” she said. “You're there, beside Wesley.”
“It's my lucky day,” Lola gave him a dazzling smile as he pulled out her chair. He was about to say the same thing, as he sat down beside her. “So tell me, Wesley, how did you come to join the navy?”
“I signed a sheet of paper and then I was aboard a ship.” he said, trying to act casually. However, Lola was smarter than he gave her credit for, and continued to ask questions as the dishes were passed down the table. Aaron didn't like the use of servants, always willing to demonstrate how full of energy he was. Wesley's eyes flickered occasionally to the now useless footmen, standing awkwardly at the back of the room.
“But you're from Ireland,” she said. “That much is clear, from your accent. Aren't there certain ships designated for the Irish, normally?”
“I wanted....” he tried to figure out how to phrase it to not arouse too much suspicion “A fresh start. Life can be so set if one does not explore new options. So I came to London, and discovered quickly that the navy offered me the opportunity to become my own person.”
“I can understand that,” she said, as she cut into her own food. “My parents were determined I'd marry the boy next door, and that would be the end of my story. But when they brought me to London when I was eight, to see a show, I knew I was meant for different things.”
“And they must be proud of you,” he replied. She shrugged.
“They like the money and fame,” she said, nonchalantly “The actual career choice, I'm sure they could do without.”
“Well,” he replied, trying to put a positive spin on things. “One would think that if you've done so well, they surely have a reason to be proud of you.”
“That's kind of you,” she said, smiling such a smile that his heart was ablaze. “I think some days they feel that way.”
“They are more the strong silent type,” Aaron put in, from across the table. “They should be proud of you for this show, though. I've seen it all over the papers, it's the talk of Drury Lane.”
“That is, if we can get through it,” she replied. “We're obviously going back into rehearsal, and we've had a few more drop off.”
“Why?” Wesley asked. “I mean, it's a tragedy but I would expect it brings you closer together.”
“There's a lot of superstition in the theater,” she replied. “I know, it's not logical, but my colleagues are scared. We're trying to bring more workers in; more hands can help prevent accidents.”
“You should go with her,” Aaron blurted into the conversation again.
“What?” Wesley half stuttered. “Why?”
“Well, you're good at figuring out mysteries,” Aaron said. “And you're also one of the best shots the navy has.”
“I---” he blushed red. “I'm not, really.”
“No,” Lola's face lit up. “I'd love to have you, if you'd...want to come.”
“I--” he felt his old shyness build up. She looked so eager, and so happy at the suggestion, that he couldn't refuse. “I'm not exactly a mystery sleuth, Miss. But, I'd be happy to come along with you, if you'd have me.”
“I can show you all of backstage,” she laid her hand over his, her eyes blazing with excitement “Maybe you can run lines with me!”
“She'll make an actor out of you, yet!” Aaron said, and Wesley looked down at his plate. The idea of being an actor both terrified him and excited him. However, nothing stopped him from thinking of the time he would get to spend with Lola. When he laid his head on his pillow that night, he couldn't stop thinking of the small hand she put over his. He had wanted to squeeze her hand, to offer his reassurance, but he had been too shy to do so.
He wasn't going to let that opportunity go again.
He found his way to the theater easily enough the next morning. It looked much different during the day than it did at night, of course. During the day, the magic was gone. It seemed like a normal place that was bustling with too many people, and too much energy. He had no idea there were so many people who were involved in a production until that moment. It seemed an endless crowd bustling around, and he had no idea how he would find Lola.
Luckily, she wasn't far. Entering the stage from the far side, she called to him.
“You came,” she cried, stepping off the steps to head towards him. “Oh, I'm so glad you came.”
“Of course I came,” he smiled. “I said I would, and I always keep my word.”
“I told everyone that we had the most brilliant mind in the Navy coming to look at where the rigging broke, and it made us all breathe a sigh of relief.”
She took his hand again, just like last night. However, this time, she didn't let go and she began to pull him back onto the stage. To Lola, stepping on the stage was as natural as breathing, but Wesley paused as he crossed the threshold.
For a moment, he could see the world as she saw it. A magical world decorated with the aura of King Arthur, and the audience sitting out in rows upon rows of red velvet chairs.
“This way,” she said, and he broke his gaze, following her to the side of the stage and then up the stairs to the catwalk. She still hadn't let go of his hand, and he gathered his courage, squeezing back as they climbed the stairs.
“How have you been?” he asked. “It does take great courage to come back to work after that.”
“Well, I imagine you see a lot of....death, on the ship,” she said, as she picked up her skirts. “Don't you?”
“We do,” he answered. “But it's expected. It's...just a way of life. You know that your friends can be there one moment and gone the next.”
“What a life,” she said, her voice deep with emotion as they climbed the final step. The stage from above seemed much different than the stage below. It was a bird'
s eye view, watching the swirling dancers practice, and the audience barely in sight. “You must be very brave.”
“It was just what I had to do when---” he caught himself, turning towards to her. He had kept his secret well guarded for so many years and it alarmed him that it would just slip out now. There was something about the deepness of her eyes, though, the windows into her soul, that made him feel as if he could tell her anything without fear of judgment.
When he turned towards her, he found that their lips were mere inches apart. He could see every freckle, every splash of last night's makeup still on her face. Her chest rose and she leaned in half an inch.
She had probably kissed a hundred men in her profession. He had been taught to stay away from such a woman, that a noble woman worthy of a chaste kiss would have never laid lips on another man. His own inexperience frightened him in the presence of someone so experienced. He didn't move, paralyzed on the spot.
She leaned in, seeming to know exactly what he wanted. To his surprise, he found that his body knew how to respond, even if his mind did not. Their lips were as hesitant as their baited breath, touching lightly again and again. His arms moved to embrace her, drawing her closer. She seemed to fit into every nook and cranny of him, pressing against his lean, strong figure.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were a bit short of breath. She smiled coyly at him.
“Wow,” she said. “I imagine you've done that before.”
“Never, miss,” he managed, breathlessly.
“I don't believe that,” she nudged him coyly. “Such an officer of your status, such a...”
“Never,” he assured her, putting his hands on the railing, and looking down to steady himself. “Although....I have wanted to. Since the moment I saw you.”
“The moment I locked eyes with you,” she said. “There was something about the way you just stood, watching. As if the world stopped.”
“Aye,” he replied. “I felt like...I can't see it.”
“What?” she said, confused.
“The corner,” he said. “Where your colleague was hit. I can't see it from here.”
She moved closer, looking over the railing.
“Why, it was right....”she squinted, and realized he was correct. The sight lines where the body had lain were obscured. He had fallen half way in the wings, which wasn't directly below the railings. From the stage, the catwalk was visible, but, from the catwalk, it wasn't a direct line.
“Where was the piece broken?” he asked, and she ran her hand along the railing until she found the spot. He could see that she was right; there was a piece of metal missing. There was rust surrounding it, and it was easy to see why it might have broken off. There was no way it could have fallen to hit the poor boy in the wings though.
Lola could see that as soon as they stood there, and she turned to him with a gasp.
“You don't think...”
“Can you bring me something to drop?” he asked. “Clear the stage of everyone in danger, we're going to try and recreate it.”
She scrambled down the stairs in a panic, searching to accomplish both of his tasks. Even as she searched for objects to recreate the scene, he knew the answer. He could simply look at the angle, calculate the differences, while numbers piled in front of his face. He could see the lines, the calculations as if they were written in the air in front of him. There was no way it could have been an accident.
By the time she scrambled back to the top, everyone had gathered on the far side of the stage. She had brought him several pieces of wood that had been broken in the last show, as part of a battle scene.
He dropped three from different angles, anywhere he could think to try and recreate the conditions. However, no matter where he dropped them, no piece fell in a way to explain where the body had fallen.
“Is it possible that he...crawled?” Lola asked. “After he was hit.”
“No,” Wesley shook his head. “A wound like that, you fall where you were hit. He did not suffer, nor did he live more than a moment or two. Not enough to get all the way over there.”
Lola fell silent, feeling chills go down her spine.
“You think someone did this on purpose?”
“I---” he said, and then there was a horrible crack from somewhere backstage, followed by a thud.
Both of them fled quickly down the ladder without looking at each other. Color left their faces, as they followed the horrified performers to the back of the stage.
There was a trap door there that was occasionally used for illusions. It had fallen in, the hatch cracked.
Wesley knew what he would find before he pushed his way towards the front.
A young male actor, who had been in the chorus and the great battle scenes, lay at the bottom of the hatch, several feet below. He had fallen right through, the splintered wood around him.
Lola wavered in fear, grabbing onto Wesley.
“That's Timothy,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “He's the understudy...”
“For Gawain?” Wesley asked and she nodded, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Dear God, this theater is cursed,” she said, as the fruitless and panicked rescue efforts began.
Wesley knew the boy was dead from the angle of his neck. He knew there was no hope. His focus was on the hatch, though. The splintered wood seemed ridiculously thin, and he picked up a piece, crouching down.
“This isn't what your hatch is made of?” he said, in shock. “Anyone would fall through this in a moment?”
“Mo Thiarna?” came a sudden voice in surprise. Wesley's head jerked up at his native tongue. No one has called him My Lord in Gaelic since he had run. What he saw was clearly an Irish woman, with blazing red hair and the green eyes that used to populate his village. “My Earl? You used to patron the theater in...”
“No,” Wesley scampered back. “You must be mistaken.”
“Wesley is a ship mate of Lord Bamber's,” Lola said, coming to his aid. Her voice was still shaking, and she took his hand.
“No,” the redhead's eyes narrowed. “I’m sure you used to be the theater patron of the theater in Galway. I used to work there, as a chorus girl...Tá tú an mac an iarla.”
“No,” he said, because she was technically wrong. He wasn't the son of the Earl now, he was the Earl himself.
“Yes. Wesley?”
“You're wrong,” he backed away from the scene, backed away from the panic. Everyone had turned their shocked face from the hatch to him. “Not anymore.” The words slipped out in his panic, and he found his feet moving him away from the stage.
He was half way into the lobby before Lola caught him.
“Wait!” she cried, grabbing his hand. “Wesley, wait.”
He spun around, but his voice was shaking.
“You should go back,” he said. “Your colleagues need you. You should all be together right now.”
“Are you right?” she asked. “Was it an accident? With Jack?”
“No,” he breathed. “It wasn't an accident. And what just happened, with that hatch, doesn't look like an accident either. Someone replaced that hatch.”
She took a deep breath. She was showing remarkable courage, he gave her that. Her next question, however, struck fear deep into his heart.
“And was Siobhan right? Are you an Earl?”
He groaned as he looked up at the ceiling.
“You are, aren't you?” she asked.
“Yes,” he finally admitted, seeing no way out of it. “Yes. I was, once. But you don't understand, Lola. I left that life. I chose another path, I walked away. And I have absolutely no interest in going back. What happened....?”
“Stop,” she put a hand up. He thought that she was going to dismiss him for lying, for concealing the truth. Her face showed only pain. “You don't have to explain anything to me. I know enough of wanting to leave your past behind.”
That surprised him, for there had never been anyone who had dismissed things so e
asily.
“But,” she said. “You're clearly very smart, and there's no mind like yours. Will you help me? Please. My friends are dying. Will you help us?”
Her eyes were so wide, and so full of emotion, that he knew he couldn't deny her, nor did he want to. This young, beautiful angel was helpless, and he possibly had the key.
“Even if they weren't accidents...” he warned her. “I don't know if I have the means to investigate such a conspiracy. A Lord would, but my title is not...”
“Well, we do know a Lord, don't we?” she asked, and he realized they did.
“You think he would put his name on the line to investigate?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “I've known Aaron my whole life, and he has a heart of gold. If you stand behind your theories, I'm sure he'll help.”
“Then we should go,” he held out his hand. “Because if I'm right, there's someone else who is going to die, and soon. This is a pattern, and it's a pattern on your young male actors. We have to find out who and why fast, less there is another accident.”
She took his hand without a word, and they headed towards the door. It felt like the most natural thing in the whole world.
CHAPTER SIX
ONLY WAY
ONLY WAY
They were not met with the answer they were expecting when they rushed to Bamber Manor. They expected Aaron's dazzling eyes and excited smile. Instead, they were met with Harold and Annabelle's grim faces in the front lobby.
Lola practically skidded to a stop as soon as the butler let them in.
“Oh no,” she said, looking between the two of them. “Say it isn't so.”
“He's...alright,” Annabelle finally replied. “For now. But we had a terrible morning.”
“Mr. Harper?” Wesley asked, his heart skipping in his throat.
“I'm not sure he can be cleared for service before we leave,” Harold managed, his normal demeanor shaky. “I've lied to the ship's doctor for years, but I'm not sure he could make it to the medical inspection, let alone---”
“Let me see him,” Lola said. “Please. He's my best friend.”
The Earl’s New Identity (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story) Page 4