London, England, October 1814

Jake and Jonathan had gotten up early the morning of the duel. It had been a night of very little sleep for Jonathan. Not so much because he had been nervous but even more so because he still thought of Amelia and the magical evening they had spent together a night ago. It was a memory he would cherish for the rest of his life. A memory that he prayed would one day turn into a life he hoped would last for far longer than just one day.

Jake had been a veritable friend, the brother he never had, for nobody had ever done anything like that for Jonathan before. The evening with Amelia had all been his doing. When Anna had informed him the morning of the dinner that Lady Felicity was recovering in her chambers from a severe bout of depression, and Sir Thomas was busy pursuing his business interests, Jake had asked Anna to persuade Amelia to join her that evening; an invitation she readily accepted.

The dinner had been planned from the first course to the very last. Jake had outdone himself. Even after all of the years of knowing him, Jonathan had no idea that he was such an epicurean. The wines and the food he had chosen had been meticulous to a fault.

More importantly, the mood had been light after Amelia had recovered from her small spell of anxiety. There was much laughter and great conversation, as if they were just two married couples enjoying a pleasant evening together and afterward, each couple would head home. It was a pleasant fiction that Jonathan prayed would one day turn into a reality.

It had ended far too soon. One moment, he and Amelia were holding hands in the drawing-room after dinner, and the very next, Amelia and Anna had to leave lest her father discover their absence. Jonathan could still feel the silky smoothness of her lips pressed against his when he thought about their parting kiss.

It was what he was thinking of at a little past noon, while sitting in a carriage on the way to Carlton House. Fortunately, the Indian summer still held sway over London. For the time of the year, it was very warm. It was nothing Jonathan was not used to after living in Virginia. He hoped Sir Thomas might find it stifling thus giving him a slight advantage. He would need all the help he could get because Sir Thomas was out to kill him no matter what duelling etiquette suggested.

Usually, it was enough for many men to prove their bravery by just standing before a gun and holding the course until the cacophonous discharge of the musket balls from the pistols. After that, in most cases, the complaint was solved when the challenged party apologized to the aggrieved one. Then, both men went their separate ways. However, without divine intervention, today would be to the death.

“Jake, I have been meaning to ask you all of this time; how on earth did we end up having the duel at Carlton House of all places?” asked Jonathan. “What I am trying to say is that you went to meet up with Sir Arthur to discuss an alternative to the duel and then what happened?” Jonathan had never managed to ask that question even though it had been sitting there the entire time waiting to be asked; there had just been too much going on.

“Ye try and go to the White’s Club and remain sane…the place robs ye of yer senses. All I wanted to do was meet Sir Arthur and go, but how was I to know that the prince regent was there as well?”

Jonathan lifted his hands. “Hey, I am not blaming you, Jake.”

“The man is impossible to refuse. I tried, but he got so excited. It was like sitting next to a small boy. He insisted for such a long time and after a few drinks too many, I agreed – By Jove, the man can drink; I barely made it back to my carriage afterward. Then he started asking me all of these questions about America and the war.” Jake thought a moment. “Ye know, the man is not as stupid as many think he is. He is actually rather clever.”

“Really. Well, I am sure to find out soon enough,” said Jonathan, his frame jolting as the conveyance navigated the streets of London. It did not take much longer until they reached a gate and entered a driveway, leading them to an elaborate courtyard.

Jake whistled. “It looks like we have arrived. Have ye ever seen the likes; the blimen place is larger than President’s House!” Jake exclaimed looking about with eyes as wide as saucers.

“Yes, it is very impressive. That’s monarchy for you, Jake,” said Jonathan. “They can build whatever they like with the taxpayers’ money.”

They stepped out of the carriage that had come to a halt in front of Carlton House. At last, it was the day of the duel. To Jonathan and Jake’s surprise, it was quiet. They both had expected scores of people to advance onto the regent’s home with glee. But that was not the case. Amelia had said the other night when they had dined together that the regent was arranging something lavish to accommodate the duel. So far, no traces of that could be seen.

“Where is everybody?” asked Jake, commenting on what both of them had thought.

“It appears that the prince regent has decided to keep this thing far more exclusive than we thought.” Jonathan pressed his lips together thinking. It was strange. Why go to all this trouble to host the duel here and not use it as some publicity stunt to bolster his already inflated ego?

Seeing Amelia the other evening had infused ardor into his veins like fuel added to a fire. “Well, Jake, old friend. Thanks to you we are in this mess.”

Jake scowled at him. “I couldn’t help it. The man was so convincing, and I never sat next to a prince before. They have ye executed if ye don’t do their bidding – I know they do,” said Jake.

Jonathan managed a chuckle despite the tension that was growing inside of him the closer he got to his fate. “Not in England they don’t. Those days are over.”

Jake sighed and looked up before entering the cavernous building. He and his friend stood under a roofed hexastyle portico. He turned to look in the direction they had come. Carlton House’s courtyard was separated from Pall Mall by a dwarf screen, which was surmounted by a magnificent colonnade. Turning back, he gulped only to be again confronted with the ostentatious interior before him.

“What kind of person lives in a place like this?” he asked, stepping into the great hall that had a pleasing air of classic elegance about it.

“Royalty, my friend. That’s who.” Jonathan, however, could not help being impressed as well by the perfection of everything. It seemed that every ornament, no matter how small, had been placed in exactly the right place.

“Please follow me,” said a footman, dressed in red royal servant’s livery and white silk stockings. There were others standing by the walls waiting to do their master’s bidding.

Jonathan and Jake followed him through an octagonal vestibule and on to the grand staircase that would lead them to the ground floor where the day’s activities would start. The two Americans had no clue what they were letting themselves in for.

After passing another anteroom and the library, Jonathan and Jake unsuspectingly walked into the Golden Drawing Room. It was spectacular. As its name suggested, it had golden cornicing bordering the ceiling and many more elements in the same material. And like most of the residence, the architectural features were of the Gothic period.

The two men had no time to inspect their surroundings. The moment they stepped into the room, loud applause was there to welcome them. Before the Americans, there stood over a hundred people dressed in their most luxurious finery. They hailed Jonathan for his courage and wished him the best of luck in the upcoming duel.

Everything was choreographed perfectly. Moments after the Americans’ entrance, the applause reignited when Sir Thomas, his wife, and Amelia appeared. Here too, the people present were well-wishers and messengers carrying verbal missives of good fortune. All of the attention made Sir Thomas feel even more important than he was.

Jonathan and Amelia’s gazes interlocked. He smiled at her and she returned his affections in full. She looked so beautiful in a light green pelisse tailored in the military style that was currently in vogue. It was fur trimmed and open at the front, revealing a pale muslin empire style gown. The sight of her made him swallow deeply. He thought if that were the last thing I ever see, it would all be worth it.

“Welcome, brave heroes,” said a high-pitched voice that slurred slightly. It came from behind the crowd. “Welcome,” it said again. “Welcome to Carlton House. I took the liberty of arranging a small luncheon before we commence with the duel.” The regent clapped his hands excitedly.

The prince miraculously appeared from among the tightly knit group of courtiers that magically created a passage for him to pass through. When he reached the front, he beamed at the new arrivals. “Isn’t this exciting. A fight for honor, a fight between nations and…” He took a few steps forward until he stood before Jake. “And as my friend, Jake, here tells me, it is a fight for love.” He turned and winked at Amelia, making her blush.

There was a loud intake of air that the regent would refer to one of the Americans as his friend rather than according Sir Thomas the dignity of receiving his attention first. The prince did not mind. He truly enjoyed the shock and awe tactic he so often employed.

“What did you tell him, Jake?” hissed Jonathan.

“I didn’t think it could hurt to tell the regent the whole story. He loved it and told me that it broke his heart as well,” said Jake.

There was no time. The prince, who wore a field marshal’s uniform, was on the move again. The cordon around the waist was a lighter blue, and a superb brilliant star adorned his chest along with some other glittering awards; there was a diamond loop and button in his hat and a feather swaying on the top. He was heavily made up, and he wore a wig under his headdress.

“Come now, follow me,” he said, excitedly. He winked at Jake before turning. Without waiting any longer, he rotated on his heels and moved back through the crowd from whence he came.

Jake and Jonathan exchanged glances. Jake shrugged. as if saying ‘I told ye so.’ “It seems you made quite an impression on the man, Jake,” said Jonathan, shaking his head. “No wonder; especially if you kept the man entertained with all of the facts of how we met Amelia and Anna. What were you thinking?”

Jake shrugged. “Give a man a few drinks, and they all open up to good ol’ Jake and I to them. The prince is a rather nice bloke if ye ask me. We got on like a house on fire.” Jonathan arched his eyebrows and Jake shrugged. Before they knew it, they were following the large procession of people out of the Golden Room into the Gothic Dining Room next door.

“Here we are,” announced the prince with an exaggerated flourish. “I have arranged for a little table display in honor of our two brave men.” He swept his hand over the table dramatically. His beady eyes scanned the room for the inevitable reaction of awe he expected.

Running down the center of the table, slightly elevated above the surface, a canal of pure water continued flowing from a silver spring that was beautifully constructed at the other end of the table. Its indistinctly swaying, artificial banks were covered with green moss and marine flowers; little ships boasting both British and American flags were, by a mechanical invention, made to swim and sport through the bubbling current, which produced a pleasing susurration, wherever it fell. At a point before where the regent would sit, the water miraculously vanished into the table.

There was large applause that included much shouting of praise. After bowing to his guests’ acclaim, basking at the moment for far too long, he gave the command that everyone present sit down. “Come, let us sit.”

The prince regent lowered his bulk into a seat at the head of the table. Behind him towered an elaborate royal stand displaying his coat of arms in crimson silk drapery and silver plate. From this position, the regent was able to see, and be seen by, everyone in the dining room.

Next to him, in seats of honor, sat the two combatants. After that, the seating was arranged according to whom was mostly in the prince’s favor that day. To everyone’s great surprise, Jake had been seated right next to Jonathan so that the prince could converse with him directly. Sir Thomas’s wife sat next to her husband then came Amelia, next to her Lord Alavanely and so forth. Beau Brummell was somewhere, along with the other two members of the ‘Dandy Club.’ They had been strategically seated so as to provide witty entertainment to the guests.

“I arranged for but a small luncheon so that you don’t get too tired, but I wouldn’t want you two gentlemen to face the ordeal of death on an empty stomach,” said the regent. He inclined his head slightly. The gesture had not gone unnoticed.

Promptly, tureens, dishes, plates, even soup plates, all made of silver, emerged from the direction of the kitchen. The dishes were placed in front of the guests. Shortly afterward, hot soups followed that were ladled into the soup bowls. Soon, silence prevailed as everyone consumed their soup at breakneck speed.

Jonathan and Jake exchanged glances – why was everyone behaving as if they had not eaten for weeks? A loud slurp brought their gaze to the prince who had finished his soup with alacrity. On cue, the servants, who were clad in blue liveries trimmed with gold lace, removed the dishes. When the prince was done with his soup, so was everyone else – such was the etiquette of his court.

Moments later, roasts of all kinds, whether hot or cold but of excellent and fresh cookery, appeared. Peaches, grapes, pineapples, and every other minor fruit in and out of season were in profusion. There was iced champagne and all the other wines also of excellent quality. There was no hurry anymore; the prince announced that everything was to be done as if they were guests in a private house.

“So, are you excited, Commodore Mitchell? To be fighting for your love?” asked the regent of Jonathan.

“He is fighting to satisfy my honor and defend his if there ever was any,” interjected Sir Thomas from across the table.

“I don’t think I was talking to you, Sir Thomas. I was asking this gentleman here, who also happens to be a brave navy commodore, how he feels to be fighting for the woman he loves,” snapped the prince. The conversations closest to him gradually fell to a hush as the people waited for what might happen next.

“Well, I of course fight for love, Your Royal Highness. What better reason is there?” said Jonathan, not exactly sure what else to have said.

“Splendid, splendid, sir.” The prince laughed. “You see my friend Jake told me all about how you met the charming Amelia. He also mentioned that you are of Scottish heritage…noble heritage to be exact.” He squinted his piggy eyes. “Is this true, sir?”

Sir Thomas was about to burst with indignation. Beside him, his wife displayed the first real smile in days. She looked at the American navy man with a completely new set of eyes. She then studied her daughter who looked at Jonathan with her affection for the man in open display. Her feelings were obvious for the world to see.

“Well, Your Highness, that was a long time ago. But yes, I am originally from Scotland. My grandfather left after the Jacobite uprisings…”

“Traitor was he,” hissed Sir Thomas.

The regent slapped his hand on the table. “If you insist on being unpleasant, Sir Thomas, you shall enjoy the rest of the luncheon outside with my dogs until I decide when the duel is to commence. What on earth might the Americans think of us if you are an example of an English gentleman, eh?” He despised upstarts, especially the ones that thought of business as something of a holy grail. If it had been his choice, he would never have elevated Sir Thomas in the first place. It had been the Prime Minister who had insisted. On the other hand, he had respect for Jonathan because he was a navy man.

He turned his attention back to Jonathan. “Carry on, sir. You were speaking of your grandfather…”

Jonathan was surprised with all of the attention he was getting. What has Jake been telling the man? “My grandfather’s name was Laird Duncan Mackinnon of Mitchell, Your Royal Highness.”

“Oh, do call me Priney. That title is too garishly long to be used all of the time between friends. Anyhow, you are a laird. How lovely.” He returned his scrutiny to Sir Thomas. “Technically this gentleman outranks you.” He began to laugh hysterically, inducing the others to follow suit. Even Jonathan couldn’t hold back. Amelia’s eyes grew larger. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Was the whole world going crazy?

“I told ye the man was a lot of fun. And he ain’t dim either,” whispered Jake.

Jonathan nodded. He threw a secretive glimpse at Amelia. She had been watching him the entire time. She smiled when their eyes met. It was moments like these that made living worthwhile. Jonathan could look at her forever. Amelia’s gaze held him in a vice and kept him there until their attention was dragged away.

Jonathan looked to the left when he felt someone touch his arm. It was the prince regent once again. “I shall look into the aspects of your family’s title. Please write it down, including your grandfather’s name.”

With his words, a servant held out quill, ink, and paper. Jonathan took them and wrote down what Priney requested. “You are most gracious, Priney.”

His face lit up. “Dear Commodore Mitchell says I am most gracious,” Priney proclaimed ecstatically.

“Here, here,” yelled the congregation in unison. Jake was the loudest. Unlike Jonathan, he had drunk a little too much wine. However, his antics did not go unnoticed by the regent. He basked in the acclaim.