Chapter 27

"How dare he! How dare any of them! Damnation and hellfire!" Marcus raged.

He paced the floor of his study before a roaring fire. Selina barely felt the warmth more than a few feet from the ancient hearth. It was as though the shadowy dark room leached it from the air itself. She sat still in her wedding dress, though the sky outside had darkened. Marcus' overcoat lay in a heap where he had thrown it, his waistcoat atop it. Both had been angry when Maximilien Voss had made his entrance. Both had calmed to a calm icy anger, but Marcus' ire was being stoked again.

Selina knew that he was dwelling on her father's defiance once he was shielded from harm by the servants he had brought with him, and his continuous insistence that Marcus was an impostor did little to allay her betrothed's fury.

Then the priest's refusal to continue the ceremony until the accusation had been investigated only stoked that ire further. Had it come from a man or woman of no status, Selina was sure it would have been dismissed without another thought. In that situation, she and Marcus would be married by now. But, it had not been made by a commoner. It had been made by a gentleman. A man supposedly of honor and breeding. The priest was horrified at the thought that he must defy a Duke but equally horrified at the idea of ordering an Earl out of his church.

The idea that the Duke may not be a Duke. Selina's father had presented the priest with quite a quandary, forcing him to choose between two gentlemen. He had refused to make such a choice and had instead declared that he would not conduct the ceremony until the accusation was proved false.

Marcus and Selina had returned to Valebridge. Selina's father had left, though Selina did not know for where. But he had been muttering imprecations as he went, clutching a bloody nose and glaring at the two of them.

How could he have possibly known?

That was the question that Marcus could not dislodge and the question that kept fanning the flames of his anger. Now those flames were bursting into explosive heat once more.

"I'm sorry," Selina said miserably.

Marcus rounded on her. "Do not say that. I will not hear it. You have nothing to apologize for. You are not responsible for your father, nor any member of your family. I am not angry at you," Marcus said.

As it had earlier, Selina's sorrow seemed to have a calming effect on Marcus. Now, once again, it doused the embers of his anger, bringing chagrin to the forefront. He strode to her, dropping to his knees and taking her hand, pressing it to his lips.

"I have a license for us to marry. I will find another priest, and this time, your father will have no opportunity to sabotage us," he said earnestly.

Selina shook her head sadly. "Do you think the priest at Folkington will not talk to others? To his bishop and others in the diocese? By tomorrow, I doubt there will be a priest in the Church of England, Scotland, Wales, or Rome that will be willing to marry us."

"His reach is not so great as that," Marcus said wryly.

Selina smiled and saw a rueful grin on Marcus' face. Her exaggeration had been calculated to bring that humor out of him. She ran a hand down the side of his face, gazing into his eyes.

"I know that you only suggested our marriage as a transaction to avoid scandal, but I did want it very badly," she whispered.

"As did I. I feel somewhat of a fool for saying that to a woman I have known for a few weeks. But I cannot deny the desire of my heart. It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but…"

"But it feels like it would have been a marriage in the truest sense of the word," Selina finished.

"Indeed. And now that it has been wrongly denied to us…I want it even more. No man has the right to tell me who I may take as wife. None!"

Selina leaned from her seat and kissed him on the lips, seeing the sparks of anger flying from him once more. He calmed as her lips pressed into his, his hands cupping her face. A single, lingering kiss became a plethora of soft, loving caresses of their lips. Feather-light touches and longer, moist kisses brought gasps of desire from Selina. Marcus' hands went to her neck, tracing the line of her wedding dress, wandering down over the material as though he could feel the flesh beneath. Under his touch, the dress seemed flimsy to Selina, hardly a barrier at all between him and her nakedness.

"Nevertheless," Selina whispered after the last of the kisses, "we cannot legally be married until this is resolved. And it cannot be resolved because you are not Arthur Roy."

Marcus looked frustrated, pressing his forehead against hers as his arms went around her back.

"I will consult with Elliot Russell. There must be a legal means open to us."

"A legal means that means you prove that you are the man you have been impersonating?" Selina said with skepticism.

Marcus let his head fall into her lap with a despairing sigh and she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Consult with your solicitor. I will speak to my father. He would not have come all this way simply to return home. He will be angling for something. This is not just an act of malice. It is part of a strategy."

Marcus' head came up, eyes fierce. "You will not go near him. I forbid it. He has already attempted to kidnap you once."

"I will make sure we meet somewhere public…"

"Here. It must be here. And with Beveridge as witness," Marcus replied.

"Very well. We will discover what he wishes to gain from all of this. Perhaps he is looking for compensation?"

Marcus scoffed. "Then I'll pay the blackguard off."

Then a thought seemed to occur to him. Slowly, he took Selina's hands in his own. He looked up at her with wide eyes.

"We cannot be married in a church. Not according to how the law dictates it must be done. But we can be married in the eyes of god. Of some gods anyway."

As he spoke, his voice was becoming more excited. Selina frowned, leaning forward, and tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear from where it had slipped over his eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Do you think that our ancestors got married in a church with the permission of a priest? I mean our distant ancestors," Marcus said excitedly, "in Cumbria, there were people living for centuries before the time of Christ. They did not need a church or chapel. They did not need licenses or the permission of a priest. They were bound together in the eyes of their gods in nature."

He stood, tightening his grip on her hands to pull her to her feet. He was laughing and Selina couldn't help but laugh as well, carried along by his enthusiasm.

"Are you saying that we should go into the hills and get married in a wood?" she asked

"Why the hell not!" Marcus exclaimed, "I have spent five years trying to reaccustom myself to polite society, I will not spend the next fifty if it means I cannot have you. It does not matter what the law says. We will know that we are bound together. You will be my wife in the eyes of this land. Come on!"

"But Marcus!" Selina protested as she ran across the room with him, "we will still be stung with scandal. The ton will not recognize our marriage. Your family name will be dragged through the mud!"

"We will not tell them. No one will know," Marcus said.

He skidded to a halt at the door of the study, turning to face Selina.

"I know this is impulsive and half-cocked. It does not solve the problem our marriage was supposed to. I don't care about any of that. I just need to know when I wake tomorrow that we are man and wife. Will you do it?"

"Of course!" Selina cried, tears coming to her eyes, but they were tears of happiness.

This was wild and adventuresome, it was out of character for the Arthur that she knew but not for the Marcus that she had come to love. She felt glad that she had reached Valebridge to find an impostor. She was glad that she had gone in search of Arthur and found Marcus. They ran from the study, Marcus bellowing for Beveridge. The startled butler appeared as they skidded into the Great Hall from the Long Walk.

"Overcoats and hats, two horses saddled, and a pair of breeches for Selina. Quickly man! Quickly!" Marcus barked.

"Your Grace! It is dark outside. You are going riding in the dark?" Beveridge said in helpless confusion.

"A very good point. Lanterns as well," Marcus ordered, clapping his hands together once.

When Beveridge remained stock still, he barked. "Hurry!"

Beveridge jumped and hurried away as quickly as he could. Within half an hour they were walking two horses from the stables, lanterns held on poles lighting the way before them.