Chapter 26

The day of the wedding arrived and the heavens seemed to smile. Selina awoke to a perfect blue sky. A few tufts of cloud dotted the sky but did not threaten rain, simply ambled by. A gentle breeze carried the scents of the garden in through the open bedroom window, along with cut grass. Selina had slept with the curtains open in order to be awakened by the sun shining in through the window. Before it was more than its own height above the hills, she was out of her bed and calling for wash water. Gracie had shared her bed that night, to be on hand as soon as her mistress awoke. She had run smiling with excitement to fetch hot water while Selina stripped and washed in the cold water left from the night before. Then a steaming bath and the long process of dressing.

She could well imagine that her dressmaker was a much sought-after master of his craft. It was simply stunning. White but glittering with precious stones as small as pinpricks. The effect was a glittering constellation woven into her veil, the bodice of her dress, and the skirt. It covered her to the chin and to the hands with lace and trailed behind her. Selina, with Gracie's help, had curled her hair into bouncing ringlets that framed her face. The golden hue of her hair contrasting perfectly with her sky-blue eyes. Finally, she stood before the full-length dress mirror in her bedchamber and admired herself.

I cannot believe that it is me standing here. I feel like I am looking at something out of a fairy tale. A fairy princess perhaps.

Gracie had tears in her eyes as she looked at her mistress, hands clasped before her.

"Simply stunning, Selina," she said, dabbing at her eyes.

"I hope Marcus likes it," Selina said.

Then she froze, her mouth hanging open. She met Gracie's gaze in the mirror. Gracie was frowning at her, puzzled. Selina whirled to face the maid and then fell to her knees before her, taking her hands.

"You cannot tell anyone. Please, Gracie, as my friend. I am begging you…"

"…But, I don't know what I am to tell. I don't know what it was that I just heard. Did you say Marcus? But who is that? Unless…"

Selina could not believe the slip of the tongue she had just committed. The blue sky and bright sunlight mocked her now. The day was potentially ruined if this secret became public knowledge. Scandal and possibly disinheritance would follow. And it would all be her fault.

"Unless Marcus is another man that…oh, but of course that is nothing to do with me. I know you are marrying His Grace for convenience, to avoid a scandal. I suppose it would be only natural for you to find…I mean it is not for me to judge or question if you have another…"

She was stammering and blushing furiously, trying to look away. But Selina had her hands held firmly and followed her eyes.

"Gracie. There is no other man. Marcus is your master. He is the Duke," she said.

"The Duke is Arthur Roy, not Marcus. I have never heard of a Marcus," Gracie insisted.

"He is Arthur Roy's brother. He took on Arthur's identity after Arthur died in order to inherit," Selina said, "I am making it sound worse than it is. Marcus is the finest of men."

"But willing to impersonate a Duke in order to claim an inheritance that is not his?" Gracie exclaimed, pulling her hands free of Selina's.

"It is not like that!" Selina insisted, "he was sent into exile by his father and there was no evidence that he was a member of the Roy family. His father destroyed anything that could prove who he is. You must believe me. I know it comes as a shock, it did for me too. But, he is a good man and will do great things with the Dukedom. He will use his position to help people, to leave a lasting legacy."

Gracie paced the room, looking distressed. "It is nothing to do with me, my lady. I am just a maid. If he is Arthur or if he is Marcus. That is by the by. He is my employer so I cannot say anything, even if I wanted to."

She sounded extremely upset and Selina could understand why. She had been in Marcus' employ and had just discovered that the man whom she served was an impostor. It would feel like the rug had been pulled from her feet.

"I mean, what if this gets out? Will we all be turfed out of Valebridge along with the so-called Duke? Is there another relative with a claim?"

Selina went to Gracie and seized her by the upper arms, stopping her in her tracks. She looked Gracie directly in the eye.

"It came as a shock to me too. But, Gracie, I love him. I fell in love with him, not with the memory of the man I thought he was. All will be well, I promise. We are going to find the documented evidence that we need to prove his legitimacy and his right to the Dukedom. In the meantime, no one else will find out. I swear it."

"But, can you trust an…an impostor?" Gracie asked.

"I trust him and you can trust me. I swear it to you," Selina said intently.

Gracie was bright red, eyes wide and wet. She was breathing rapidly, the news clearly panicking her.

"Look at me, Gracie. Believe in me. I will always protect you," Selina said.

Gracie's breathing slowed. She took a final deep breath and then nodded. Selina hugged her until the maid pushed her away.

"You will upset the arrangement of your dress. I could not bear it after all the work we have put into it today," she said.

Selina giggled and eventually Gracie did too.

"Oh, what a day. I was so proud that my mistress and friend was going to be a Duchess. I feel as though my world has been turned upside down. The Duke is not the Duke!"

"He is and has every right to the title. He is the second son of Jeffrey Roy. It's just that the old devil kept no evidence to bear out that fact and sent Marcus away at a young age."

"Oh lord! What a conundrum!" Gracie exclaimed, "I suppose the only way to prove it would be to track down the old servants. But they might not be too willing to assist given that his first act as Duke was to sack them all!"

Selina gaped at her for a moment, unable to believe that she had not been able to think of something so obvious. She impulsively hugged Gracie again with even more ferocity, producing a surprised squawk from the maid.

"Gracie, you are a genius! Of course! We simply track down the old staff and some of them at least must be able to verify who Marcus is!"

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Selina breakfasted, insisting that Gracie dine with her. Marcus had spent the night at Luke's house and would meet her at the parish church in Folkington. After breakfast and more ablutions, Selina felt weak at the knees with nerves. Mr. Beveridge arranged for a coach from the stables, choosing a landau with its hood folded down. Gracie took on the role of maid of honor, seated in the carriage with Selina and Mr. Beveridge. The role of father to the bridge would be taken by the solemn old butler. Upon being asked, and after having been apprised of the fact that Marcus had confessed all to Selina, Beveridge seemed to take Selina under his wing. He looked upon her with paternal benevolence and had almost burst with pride at being asked to give her away.

The journey to Folkington took both too long and was over too quickly at the same time. The sun smiled down warmly with not a hint of rain. As they arrived in Folkington, Selina was embarrassed to see that the village folk had turned out to congratulate their Duke. People lined the main street and threw petals as the carriage approached the pretty little church at the heart of the village. Beveridge took Selina's arm as Gracie led the way into the church itself. Inside, the air was cool and shaded. The church was full of villagers. Selina felt the warmth of their goodwill. The Roys had been the lords of Folkington and surrounding lands since the days of feudalism. In his time as Duke, Marcus had done enough to earn the goodwill of these people, undoing the reputation his father and possibly Arthur had built up.

For that, Selina felt proud of Marcus. He stood at the end of the central aisle, Luke beside him. Selina had never before seen a man so handsome, so perfect. His long, dark hair framing his stentorian face. But, though it had seemed harsh with its straight planes and tight control, she had learned to see the softness within. It shone from his eyes and she could not understand how anyone could look upon this man and not see his compassion and tenderness. He was broad of shoulders, masculine and strong but also vulnerable and gentle. Her heart felt full to bursting with love for him, eclipsing the love she had once felt for Arthur. This was of a different intensity. She had loved Arthur for his soul and with the innocence of a first love. She loved Marcus for both body and soul.

He excited her mind. He excited her body. His soul was a perfect match for hers, they fit together. It was a fairy story and it was reaching the end of its glorious first chapter. She beamed at Marcus and his smile was returned. A murmur passed through the assembled congregation. Selina thought it was to do with her and Marcus, possibly a murmur of appreciation at the bride's dress or the groom's handsome looks. But it grew in pitch and was punctuated by rapid footsteps and the metronomic clack of a cane striking against stone.

"Stop this ceremony at once! I exercise my right to protest! I have good reason that this man and woman should not, cannot be married!" shouted Maximilien Voss.

Marcus' face grew dark, his eyes focusing past Selina. She whirled and saw her father striding down the aisle. The murmur became an explosion of protest and questions. All at once, people were talking to each other or remonstrating with the interloper. Some younger men got up and tried to manhandle him from the church. Selina heard the brisk footsteps of her future husband and turned in time to see murder on Marcus' face. She turned back to her father who was swatting at the people who were trying to make him leave, brandishing his cane. He glared at her, face purple.

"This man is not Arthur Roy, Duke of Valebridge. Arthur Roy is dead! He is an impostor!" Voss screeched triumphantly.

Beveridge seized his master and tried to stop him from reaching Voss. The old man slid several paces along the polished stone floor as Marcus simply kept walking as though there was no obstruction in his way. Selina calmly strode past Beveridge, and when she reached her father, she balled her hand into a fist, swung, and hit him squarely on the nose.