The Earl’s New Identity (The Regency Renegades - Beauty and Titles) (A Regency Romance Story)

by Jasmine Ashford

  “Of course,” Annabelle said. “He's up in his room.”

  “Come with me,” she grabbed Wesley's hand, and it did not go unnoticed, but no one made a comment as the two of them quickly went upstairs.

  Lola could see right away that what had happened this morning was terrible. His face was badly bruised and there was a wound right through his lip, which he had surely bit. She could even tell from the way he was sprawled out that he was in great pain, his body curled against it.

  As if sensing them both there, Bamber’s blue eyes flickered open.

  “Hello,” he mouthed, and Lola stepped forward.

  “Ssh. Don't try to speak.”

  His eyes glanced to Wesley, who ducked his head.

  “Sir,” he said, looking at the floor. His heart was hammering as he thought about the possibility of his officer slipping away.

  Aaron, his spirit strong despite his body, rolled slightly so he could at least prop himself up. Lola could see that his eyes were clouded, and she went to him at once, helping to fluff the pillow, and shift the blankets. Sitting on the corner of the bed, everyone seemed lost for words.

  “What are you two doing this fine morning?” Aaron finally managed and Lola laughed, but there were tears in her voice.

  “Solving mysteries,” she said. “When we do, I'll let you know the answer.”

  “Mysteries?” he managed. “Can I help?”

  “No, sir,” Wesley spoke up. “You just rest and get better.”

  Aaron smiled, tipping his head to Wesley, and Lola could see that his energy was fading already. She pulled back, squeezing his hand once, and then left him to head back to sleep. She looked peaceful, serene, assuring him that all was well.

  As soon as the door closed, however, her face changed.

  “Can this day get any worse?” she asked, burying her face in Wesley's shoulder. He put an arm around her, feeling her trembling body. “First Jack, and then Timothy...and now...Aaron...”

  “He's going to be fine,” he said, although he felt like he was lying. “Lord Bamber...he has always pulled through, no matter what situation we encounter.”

  “But have you ever seen him like this?” she asked. “Ever? He's always gotten back up; he's always been able to help others. Clearly, he can barely help himself, let alone us.”

  “I can do it,” Wesley said, although he felt like throwing up when he said it. He knew exactly what he was saying. Lola's eyes, looking up at him with such hope, with such desperation, meant that his own fears were second to hers. He was hiding because he couldn't stand the situation he left behind. If she kept quiet, more people would die, he was sure of it. The answer was obvious, even if it made his hand shake. “I have a title.”

  She searched his eyes.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice heavy with meaning. He leaned down, kissing her gently. If someone had told him a year ago that he'd steal two kisses from an actress on the same day, and reclaim his title, he'd have thrown them overboard. Now, however it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

  “Yes,” he said. “I'm sure.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RECLAIM

  RECLAIM

  “To reclaim a title?” Harold said to him, once they were back downstairs. “Did you officially renounce it?”

  “After my father died, we never had an official ceremony,” Wesley replied.

  “But that doesn't matter,” Harold replied. “So long as you don't have an older brother, there is no reclaiming situation. The title is yours, whether or not you choose to acknowledge it, unless you've passed it on.”

  “Should we start calling you My Lord now?” Annabelle teased him.

  “Well, I think it's a good thing, what you're doing,” Harold said. “Unfortunately, theater workers aren't well respected, so having a title attached to the investigation will be helpful.”

  “Neither is...” Annabelle glanced between the two of them, always sharp. “You don't live in this town, so I'll warn you with the best intentions. People in this town hold their heads high. They enjoy going to the theater, but they don't associate with the workers. And a titled Earl associating with an actress....it might raise eyebrows.”

  “Raising an eyebrow is my specialty,” Lola replied. “But you are right.”

  “You know I don't care,” Annabelle leaned on the counter. “But this town is terrible for that.”

  “It won't be the first scandal I'm involved in,” Wesley replied. “And I highly doubt it will be the last. But I trust if I do need assistance...”

  “We'll help,” Annabelle assured him. “Your shipmates have gone out for the morning, so they'll be coming home for a bit of a shock. But I'm sure they will be helpful when it comes to it as well.”

  “Where should we start?” Lola asked, leaning into Wesley. She was feeling the effects of the day, but she was determined to soldier on.

  “Is there anyone at the theater who dislikes your colleagues?” Wesley asked. “Anyone who has expressed dislike, crossed paths the wrong way? A scorned worker, perhaps?”

  She contorted her face.

  “I don't know. Half of us are a touring company, so it's hard to keep track of who is coming and going. There is....” her eyes widened. “There was a theater manager that was fired the day we got there.”

  “Why?” Wesley asked.

  “He just...got frustrated with our needs and demands. Threw up his hands and left,” Lola replied. “That could be it.”

  “Good,” Wesley's mind was already turning. “Back to the theater.”

  Once they were out on the path, headed back, Lola realized what they were taking on.

  “What if no one listens to us? What if they think it's an accident?”

  “They'll listen,” he said, holding his chin high. Memories of the way people used to speak to his father came flooding back. They listened, even when they didn't want to. An Earl was only a few steps removed from a King; he held authority he never wanted. For Lola, though, he would accept it once more.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CLOSE THE CURTAIN

  CLOSE THE CURTAIN

  “By order of Judge Mathers, this theater is hereby closed until further notice! Anyone who has worked within the theater or within partnership of the theater is to remain in town for questioning, or fear the noose.”

  “What?” Lola nearly dropped the prop she had been holding. It had been hard enough to return to the theater knowing that death was looming and that the boys' were barely cold in their graves. To have the police storm in on their first day of rehearsal, a week later, was heart stopping. They had barely taken Wesley's pleas seriously, that it was murder and not an accident. Nevertheless, it seemed that something had tipped them off. “What's going on?”

  “Stay where you are, Miss,” the police chief said, looking as if he might clap her in irons at any moment. “There's been too many murders connected to the theater within the last two weeks to not suspect any of you.”

  Everyone fell into a stunned silence, looking at each other out of sideways glances. It was true that the theater was a competitive industry, but never like this. Or was it?

  “The last two?” Lola asked, and the police chief raised an eyebrow.

  “The last three, Miss.”

  “Three?” she asked, in shock.

  “This morning, at dawn, the body of Dan Adams was found, on his way to work.”

  “Dan?” Lola coughed. “Dan? He wasn't even...he...”

  “Are you Miss Lola Montclair?” he asked.

  “Yes...” she stuttered. He took another menacing step forward, looking her up and down.

  “Miss Montclair, you are a person of interest. I suggest you come with us.”

  All eyes turned to her.

  “Why?” she asked, trembling with fear.

  “Because, Miss Montclair, so far, everyone who has died is someone you've had romantic interests on stage with. Quite a connection, don't you think?”

  “I---” sh
e thought as fast as she could. “But that's not fair. I mean, my character has---”

  “Officer,” she heard Wesley's calming voice enter the theater. She breathed a giant sigh of relief as she saw his strong presence. He said he'd be by later, but this was perfect timing. He was known to the police, having gone to them with the investigation. However, he probably didn't expect opening an investigation to end with arresting Lola. “This lady has done no crime, I assure you. I can vouch for her.”

  “Regardless, My Lord,” the officer said and she could see him wince at the title. “She is a suspect, and one of the prime ones.”

  “I vouch for her,” he said, holding out his hand. “She will stay within the confines of Bamber Manor until you are ready to question her, at which time, I will be present, as is proper.” He eyed the policeman. “Unless you were planning to question her alone?”

  The officer blushed bright red at the thought of scandal, and shook his head.

  “No, My Lord. You may take her into your custody.”

  “Good,” Wesley said, and Lola went to him, trying to control her trembling. It wasn't until they were outside the theater that she let her tears fall.

  “Three,” she said. “Three young actors, gone in the space of two weeks. What is happening?”

  “I don't know,” he said, and she noticed his voice had a notch to it. She looked up, scanning his face.

  “You look awful.”

  He shook his head.

  “It's nothing. What you are going through is much worse, I assure you.”

  She knew at once what he was speaking of.

  “It's the title, isn't it? Hearing it again is weighing on you. Have you been sleeping?”

  He set his jaw, and held out his arm. She wrapped both of her hands on the inside of his elbow, keeping her head ducked down as they walked. This close to the theater, she was bound to be recognized.

  “Things have been...a bit chaotic,” he managed. “I'm happy to sit up with Bamber during the night, should he need anything.”

  “How is Aaron?” she asked. She had been so fearful, so busy, that she had not been able to bring herself to see him, which she deeply regretted. He was her best friend, and they spent half their letters wishing to see each other. Now that they could, though, it seemed as if they were not taking advantage of it at all.

  “Better,” he said. “Although I doubt he'll be sailing with us in the next departure.”

  “Well,” Lola said. “The way things are happening, I doubt I'll be working in the next season, so perhaps he and I can finally spend some time together.”

  “You'll be working,” Wesley tried to assure her. They were interrupted by a shout.

  “How much for the night, My Lord? Can I have her after you?”

  Wesley's head spun towards the voice in shock.

  “Excuse me?” he asked. He found a toothless grinning man, unkempt himself, and probably suffering from the effects of the drink.

  “Can I have her after you? Your whore?”

  “My whore?” Wesley said in shock. “I'll have you know that this is Lola Montclair,” he said. “One of the most famous actresses on the British stage.”

  “Aye, I know she's an actress,” the man replied, cheekily. “And I see how she pays the bills at night.”

  “Wesley!” Lola pulled his arm until she had his attention. “Leave it be! Leave him, he's drunk.”

  “I will not let your honor be...”

  “What honor?” she asked him, and he stopped struggling. “What honor? The man is right. You're an Earl and I'm an actress. Any way you look at it, there is no honor of mine to defend.”

  “Lola---” he said, but she fought for his attention. It had been such a long horrible two weeks, and she knew, as long as they held an interest in each other, it wouldn't be the first time they encountered such a situation.

  “Please,” she said, and his shoulders dropped. He followed her lead, and they walked away from the sneering man. When they made it around the corner, he met her eye.

  “I don't care,” he said. “I walked away because you are already under suspicion, and I didn't want to arouse more. However, I don't care what your status is in the world, or what mine is. You have honor and you have a right to have it defended.”

  “That's kind of you,” she replied. “But even if I was a player at the King's Court, I would still be beneath you.”

  “Not if you were married,” he said. “You wouldn't be the first show girl to rise above her rank.”

  She stopped in her tracks.

  “What?” she asked, and he realized what he had said.

  “I mean. In theory....” he had been doing so well without stuttering like an idiot, and now the old habit was back. The lack of sleep was getting to him, and he knew he couldn't deny it. At night, he lay awake, starring at the beautiful ceiling of Bamber Manor. However, he wasn't admiring the architecture so much as seeing past it. The memories of the past came flooding back. His father's tyrant rule, their blazing deaths. How memories in that house were only of rigidness, of tyranny, of strength through tears. One day, this will be yours his father used to scream. The first time he said he didn't want it, he got beaten. The second and third time, it was the same. After that, he learned to say nothing at all.

  “Of course,” Lola said. “In theory.”

  The streets were eerily quiet as they walked back. It seemed everyone was giving them sideways glances, everyone was watching them out of the corner of their eyes. Shopkeepers, at least in Lola's imagination, drew the windows closed. They stepped away, they whispered quietly.

  She had never been gladder to see the gates of Bamber manor.

  “It appears it'd be best if you stayed here for a few days,” Wesley said. “At least until everything blows over. Do you think that will be alright with Mr. Bamber?”

  “I'm sure,” Lola replied. “Although I never hoped to stay here under such circumstances. The last thing I want is to bring shame onto his family...onto anyone's family.”

  “You bring nothing but light,” he said and she smiled. Somehow, under his gaze, his protection, she knew all would be well.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HIDING

  HIDING

  “What are you going to do?” Aaron was in the large armchair by the fire when the two of them burst into the house. He looked slightly better than he had in the last few weeks, and he squeezed Lola's hand when she took it without shaking or wincing in pain. It was an improvement, although everyone could see he wasn't yet his usual self.

  “What am I going to do?” Wesley replied, raising an eyebrow. “You now have the most famous actress in the Kingdom in your house under lock and key.”

  “Well,” Aaron exchanged a glance with Lola. “It wouldn't be the first time she's hidden here. I imagine this time is no different.”

  “Except the police are after me,” Lola replied, sinking into the couch. “Not exactly the most becoming transition.”

  “I don't know why they suspect you,” Wesley leaned against the mantel piece. “They shouldn't suspect you anymore than anyone else in the theater.”

  “But I do have a connection to them,” Lola looked at the floor. “They are right; I do play romantic leads with all of them. What the rest of the world doesn't seem to realize is that it's just acting, it's not real, there are no feelings behind it.”

  “That also wouldn't be the first time,” Aaron said, and the two of them shared a glance. Wesley looked between them.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It's nothing,” Aaron said, after holding Lola's gaze for a moment too long. “I am glad though, Wesley, that you are out there. I can't be, but having your title behind her should help.”

  “Your title will be out in public again soon enough,” Wesley replied, trying to smile. However, from the way Lola looked at him, he wasn't sure it would be.

  Lying in bed that night, Wesley's thoughts swirled in his head. He was used to not being able to sleep at this point. The
great house was too much, the memories overwhelming. He wasn't sure he was thinking logically half the time anymore, walls appearing out of nowhere.

  Would it just be this trip where this title would hang over his head? Would he be able to board the ship and have no one mention it ever again? Would the nightmares stop, the memories fade away?

  He was in a state half way between sleep and wakefulness when he thought he saw something in the corner of his room.

  He sat up with a gasp, grabbing for a sword that wasn't there. He was covered in sweat, his heart pounding a million knots a minute. For a moment his chest felt tight, as if he would never get enough breath.

  “Wesley?”

  “AH!” He didn't expect a voice to his left, and he half slammed back against the wall. It took a moment to realize it was just Lola, approaching him in the dark.

  Her hair was undone, hanging down almost to her waist. Her soft eyes seemed larger in her white nightgown, lace around the collar and at her wrists. She looked like a much different person than the woman who commanded the stage.

  His heart beat in a different rhythm as she reached for his hand.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I'm fine,” he ran a hand over his face. “I'm fine.”

  “A bad dream?” she asked, and he felt his face burn. “It's alright. All of us have a past that we'd rather forget.”

  He remained silent for a moment, as his breathing slowed. Her very presence was calming, as if the world was going to be alright simply because she was in it.

  “This is ridiculous,” he said, after a moment. “You're here under police orders and I'm the one you're concerned about.”

  She smiled painfully, sitting on the side of his bed. Anyone else would think it highly indecent, but in that moment, it felt natural.

  “And if it weren't for me, I suspect you wouldn't be having these nightmares. I knew you had given up your title before I met you. I didn't want to...let on before. But ...a few shore leaves ago, Aaron mentioned you.”