Chapter 39

Selina felt that she had wandered into a fairy tale. Her very own fairy tale in which she was the heroine. The receiving hall of Carlton House was, by far, the grandest and most palatial room she had ever stood in. Its walls were molded in gold and paneled in amber. Paintings of obvious antiquity, presumably by masters, hung on the walls, their frames dripping with gold. Chandeliers cast glittering light from above that sparkled from precious stones and yet more gold. She wore a dress of white and bronze, her hair worked atop her head to highlight her graceful neck. At least that is what the modiste that Marcus had taken her to in Savile Row had told her. A necklace of gold and diamond decorated her chest, purchased the day before in Oxford Street as a wedding present from Marcus. It felt as heavy as armor. She was not used to wearing such things.

More jewels were artfully worked into her hair where they sparkled and twinkled discreetly.

"I do not know how long it will take me to remove all of this metalwork this evening," she whispered to Marcus as they were announced to the assembled throng.

"Leave it on then. Just remove the dress," Marcus whispered back.

Selina thought that her response of a slow glance to her husband and a discreet smile was admirably reserved given the cheekiness of the comment. She was glad that the presence of so many people produced such warmth in the room, so that even in a cavern such as this, her flush would go unnoticed. Marcus wore a suit of dark blues and grays, understated and elegant. She felt jealous that he could attend the Prince Regent looking handsome and dignified, and not festooned like a Christmas tree.

But I am a Duchess now and must look the part. At least I must look the part as the Regent expects to see it.

"This is the final test. We have satisfied the law, now we must satisfy the Court," Selina whispered.

"You are already the jewel of this court. Look around you. I see many women with more jewels than you but none that carry them as though they were born to it. Trust me when I say that you look as though you belong here."

"I don't feel as though I do."

They were making their way slowly into the room, acknowledging eye contact with smiles and nods, waiting for the highest ranked among the Regent's assembled guests to approach and greet them. That is how it would happen, according to the advice that Marcus had sought upon their arrival in London. An expert in the etiquette of the Regent's Court had been found to provide coaching to Marcus and Selina on what to expect. After all, despite his rank, Marcus had little experience of the upper echelons of English society. Selina had even less. But it was vitally important to impress the Regent with their demeanor and appearance, for him to believe that Marcus was entitled to the rank he claimed. Particularly as the rival claimant to Valebridge was an equerry to the Regent, a close servant and fully versed in the ways of dealing with royalty.

The first to come forward was the Duke of Westerleigh, an imposing man with an equally imposing wife, both of whom regarded the room from a great height. Selina found herself making small talk with the duchess while Marcus smiled charmingly and talked to the duke in matters of ships and trade. Next came a Scotsman, the Duke of Argyll. He was younger than Westerleigh and accompanied by a beautiful young woman whom he introduced as his fiancée. He seemed to know the Lake District well and talked effusively about Cumbria and the borderlands between England and Scotland. By the time they left him, they had been invited to his home in Scotland to shoot and fish before the summer waned. Selina looked at Marcus who gave her a wink.

"Because I have chosen to isolate myself does not mean that I cannot mix with the gentry when I choose. How am I doing, do you think?" he asked.

"Like a man born to it," Selina replied.

"Let us hope so," Marcus said.

Presently, they were approached by an equerry in full ceremonial dress uniform and told that the Regent desired an audience with them before dinner. They followed the man through more grand rooms of immense wealth and into a drawing room. It was plushly furnished in red and gold and carpeted in purple and silver. The effect was gaudy but undeniably expensive. The equerry briefed them on how to enter the room, how to address the Regent, and how to behave before leading them into the room. The Regent sat in an armchair that was practically a throne, beneath an enormous portrait of himself, surrounded by horses and hunting dogs and dressed in the uniform of an Army General. He had dark hair that fell untidily about his face. He wore a dress uniform but one that was adorned with gold piping, braid, and a chestful of ribbons. His pose was indolent and his face sullen.

To either side stood equerries and, to Selina's horror, her father. Maximilien Voss stared at her with a gloating expression. They were presented to the Regent and introduced as the Duke and Duchess of Valebridge. The Regent waved a hand.

"Now then, let us dispense with that from the start. I have read the report of Captain Hamilton of Bow Street and find it unacceptable. I do not believe that you are the Duke of Valebridge or that you have any claim to that title. Captain Drummond here has made his case for claim to that title via his mother, who was niece to…what was it, Clive?"

"Niece to Jeffrey Roy, the previous Duke, your royal highness."

"Indeed. Now, I have brought you here to answer your deception which has included this innocent young lady," the Regent said with a stern expression.

Selina felt as though the floor had been pulled from beneath her. Her father was smiling now, looking confident in his victory. Selina looked to Marcus, desperate and fearful. But he was listening with an expression of polite amusement on his face.

"I am quite happy to answer in far simpler terms as I would do so to a child, if it will help the layman understand," he said cheekily.

The Regent's eyes bulged and there was a murmur of consternation among the gathered entourage but Marcus went on.

"I am aware now of Captain Drummond's claim and agree it would be quite legitimate in the event that neither of Jeffrey Roy's sons had survived. But, you see, we both did."

"Jeffrey Roy had only one son. Arthur. An opium fiend who is now dead," Drummond spoke out-of-turn in a voice dripping with contempt.

"He is not dead but very much alive. He is also a guest here this evening," Marcus said.

Selina fought the urge to gape. Marcus and Arthur had been alone for a long time at his cottage in Wilmington before they had returned to Valebridge. She had given the brothers space to talk and repair their relationship but Marcus had not spoken of what they talked of.

"He has not been invited. Why would we invite a dead man?" the Regent said, drawing a sycophantic round of laughter.

"You did not, but the Duke of Westerleigh did. He and my brother have a particular interest in philanthropy, in particular the treatment of those unfortunates who have lost their wits. A common purpose between them. I believe they have become good friends via correspondence. My brother shuns society these days, you see."

"Ah, then he is not here? How convenient," Drummond drawled, "your royal highness, I see no proof to deny my rightful claim to Valebridge…"

The door to the drawing room opened and Selina turned. She gasped as she saw Arthur striding into the room. Dai had now been completely shrugged off. He wore a fine suit of dark green and walked with the dignity and poise of a gentleman. His white hair was tamed and his chin, clean-shaven. Under one arm he carried a sheaf of papers bound in red silk and sealed with wax. The resemblance to Marcus was uncanny. The Regent sat up, looking outraged, but Arthur's voice boomed out into the room over his.

"Your royal highness. Forgive the intrusion but I must prevent this shady confidence trick from being perpetrated. You are being manipulated by nefarious men who have seen an opportunity to use one of the great estates of England as a tool to acquire title and wealth that they have no right to."

He sounded like an orator, as though he spoke from a stage. The Regent sat, mouth open, and when Drummond drew breath to speak, raised a finger of one hand and silenced him.

"I admire bravery. Such bravery as our boys showed on the field against the French. It is to be admired. So I will hear your case," he said.

Arthur broke the seal and untied the silk.

"This is the lineage of the Roy family. It shows the last issue of the direct line, a son born to Jeffrey Roy and named Arthur. Alongside his birth, another son, named Marcus. This lineage has been notarized by the appropriate member of your father's court, the Master of the Heraldry, and a copy is kept in Parliament. I am Arthur Roy and am vouched for by your very good friend the Duke of Westerleigh. This is Marcus Roy, whom I vouch for."

The Regent got up and snatched the papers from Arthur, looking at them and then passing them to an equerry who examined them closely before nodding and handing them back.

"Why have I never seen you then?" the Regent asked.

"Because I fell under the spell of the Devil before I became Duke and fell from grace. My brother was sent away as a boy and our father did not maintain any records proving his identity. Our mother, on the other hand, cared for us deeply. This, she hid from her husband," he held aloft the papers, "and entrusted them to the care of the only people who had shown her kindness, the doctors of the Streatham Asylum."

Drummond scoffed. "Are we to take the word of a madwoman then?"

"Have a care, sir," Marcus growled, "lest I have cause to call you out. With your royal highness' permission of course," he added.

"And it would be granted in a heartbeat. You assured me that your claim was watertight, Clive. I deem it to be extremely leaky! You have made me appear a buffoon in front of these good men!" the Regent scolded, "I could have stripped a man of his rightful title, and what a precedent that would set for my enemies. You don't think there are scoundrels in the Commons who would dearly love to see me stripped of my income?"

Drummond colored, mouth opening and closing. Selina looked at her father who was turning puce. Finally, everything seemed too much for him.

"Your royal highness, may I speak?" he said, his German accent coming to the fore.

"Ah yes, Voss. Well, I will not deny a fellow countryman. Speak."

"This man may be a Duke. But he and my daughter are not married. They claim to be but they are not. I ask that she be handed over to me to return to Sawthorne. I am her guardian. Her life with this man is one of sin and wickedness."

The Regent arched an eyebrow and looked at Marcus and Selina. "Yes, well, a Duke can hardly be living in sin now, can he? Not openly anyway. You really must be married, old chap."

"I would marry Selina tonight if I could," Marcus said.

"Splendid! Well, I thought tonight was going to be dreadfully marred by some godawful argument over a title. But it seems we have resolved everything. Except, according to Captain Hamilton, Arthur Roy was born a day prior. How can you be Duke of Valebridge if he is the elder?"

He pointed from Marcus to Arthur.

Arthur gave a nod and a wink to Marcus. "It is he who is in fact a day older, your royal highness."