was a mask, but Harold was watching the procession near, and something told Dottie that he was tensed as a coiled spring. She could almost feel the waves of anger radiating from him.
She and Randolph slowed to a halt in front of the archbishop, solemn and splendid in his golden vestments. The organ faded to silence and the archbishop raised his voice to declare, “This is a glorious day-”
“
The shout died away, leaving behind a stunned silence. Into that silence Harold's voice came again.
“This is a day of dishonor, the day Elluria crowns an impostor with no right to the throne.” He stepped out into the aisle and advanced on Dottie and Randolph who'd turned to face him.
“Be silent,” Randolph commanded him.
“You expect me to be silent while I'm cheated of my rights?” Harold screamed. “It's a conspiracy. This woman is not the true heir.”
He snatched a paper from an inner pocket and turned to face the startled congregation, waving it aloft. “She is not the true heir,” he shouted again. “She springs from a bastard line, and here is the proof.”
“Nonsense!” Durmand bustled forward, angry and businesslike. “This has all been dealt with. Her Majesty's line has been checked back to Duke Egbert and found to be direct.”
“Direct but not legitimate,” Harold sneered. “Egbert never had a child by his lawful wife. His daughter was the product of an extramarital liaison with a housemaid.”
“But that is nonsense,” Durmand protested. “He could never have passed her off as his wife's child.”
“He could in those days,” Harold snapped. “And with his wife's connivance. Don't forget what a long time it took Egbert and his wife to travel from Elluria to England. A journey of a few days took months, and why?”
“Because they lingered to enjoy themselves,” Durmand said helplessly.
“Because it was easier to perpetuate a fraud in another country,” Harold shouted. “The child was born in Switzerland, where nobody had ever seen either woman. They stayed in an out-of-the-way house in the country, the maid gave birth, the doctor was told he was attending the duchess. How was he to know otherwise?”
“But the duchess would never have agreed-” Durmand protested.
“Why not? People had jeered at her as too old to give her husband a child. After that the jeers stopped, and she traveled on to England with 'her' baby in her arms. The maid was bought off and thrown out. But she talked and the story has been preserved.”
Enderlin stepped in, as much Dottie's champion as he had been her combatant. “But nobody heard of it until now,” he said. “It's surfaced too conveniently for my liking.”
“And might never have surfaced at all,” Sophie said, speaking for the first time. “But for the invaluable assistant of Mr. Michael Kenton.”
“Mike?” Dottie exclaimed. “I don't believe it.”
“We had such an interesting talk the night of the ball,” Sophie continued, turning directly to Dottie. “He repeated tales he'd heard from your grandfather, when he was in his cups, and there was enough to put us on the trail.”
“But that was ages ago,” Dottie exclaimed. “Why wait until now?”
“It was just a rumor,” Harold said. “It's taken until now to get the proof, hidden in the Swiss archives.” He waved his papers again. “But the proof is here. Examine it. In the meantime I demand that this false coronation is called off.”
Through the whirling of Dottie's head only one thing was clear. If Harold was clever enough to make this credible, Randolph would lose everything for the second time. She herself would lose the friends she'd made and the country she'd come to love, but it was for him that her heart ached.
“Randolph,” she said, clasping his hand.
“It's all right, my darling. Everything is going to be all right.”
“But can this be true?”
“It wouldn't surprise me at all,” he said calmly. “Old Egbert was very free with his attentions. I should think he had any number of liaisons. He undoubtedly married his wife for her money and she was some years older than him. It all sounds very likely. How fortunate that it didn't come to light before.”
“But, Randolph…what difference does that make? It's out now, and that means I can't be the queen and-”
“It means no such thing. Trust me Dottie, I'll make you a queen before the day's out.”
Sophie was regarding Dottie with a mixture of triumph and malevolence. Harold and Durmand were having a shouting match, with Harold's voice growing shriller every moment.
“This woman is an impostor. She should be arrested for offenses against the state.”
“But you'll never get the king to agree to that,” Randolph observed mildly.
Harold rounded on him. “I am the king.”
“No,” Randolph said, still in the same mild tone. “
If Harold's announcement produced consternation this one caused turmoil. Everyone was staring at Randolph as if unable to believe their ears, but his glance was for Dottie, as though only her reaction mattered to him.
“Your researchers have been hard at work, Harold, but so have mine. And I too have found something interesting. It concerns Ellie Trentworth, the young woman with whom my father went through a form of marriage. I say 'a form of marriage' because it wasn't worth the paper it was written on. Ellie already had a husband, two in fact. Probably more than two. Goodness knows who she was really married to, but it certainly wasn't my father.
“So the 'form of marriage' had no basis in law. It was invalid, leaving him as much a bachelor afterward as before, and therefore free to marry my mother. There never was a stain on their marriage, or my legitimacy.”
Harold had gone very pale but he recovered himself.
“Words,” he scoffed. “Where is your proof?”
“Here,” Randolph said, pulling some papers from inside his jacket. “These are the marriage certificates of Ellie Trentworth to both husbands. Since I discovered the truth I've kept them on me at all times. I had a feeling I might need to produce them at a moment's notice, especially today.”
Harold snatched at the papers. The whole cathedral seemed to be holding its breath as he went through them.
“These are forgeries,” he snapped. “I don't believe any of it.”
But Sophie believed it. As she saw her last chance vanish she screamed and went into hysterics. Nothing else could have so effectively demolished Harold's claim, and two soldiers moved discreetly to take their places behind him. Sophie's sobs grew louder, prompting him to hiss, “Shut up!”
“This is most irregular,” the archbishop said worriedly, looking at Dottie. “Is this lady of legitimate descent, or isn't she?”
“It doesn't matter, since she makes no claim to the throne,” Randolph said. “Indeed, she never did make a claim to the throne. It was forced on her, and she accepted it as a duty, and from love. But it was based on a misapprehension. The mistaken belief that I was illegitimate because my parents' marriage was bigamous. These certificates prove otherwise.”
Durmand was studying the papers with increasing delight. “Then the marriage was valid, and your claim to the throne cannot be challenged,” he told Randolph. “You are, and have always been, the rightful king.”
“You need never have brought me here at all,” Dottie breathed. “Randolph, how long have you known about this?”
“I discovered soon after you arrived in Elluria.”
Her brain whirled. “You mean…before we married?”
“Yes.”
She couldn't speak. The implications were so enormous, so wonderful, that she didn't dare believe them. “But why did you keep quiet?” she asked at last. “If you'd spoken then you wouldn't have needed to marry me.”
He put his hands on either side of her face and spoke in a voice deep with tenderness. “Darling, beloved Dottie, I wanted to marry you. I
