“We invited friends from that special pub, and a few fellows from Albert’s shop. We had music and a ham and even a clutch of balloons and streamers. There was champagne, which I’ll confess to you I’d thieved from the palace cellar. Albert and I were dancing, holding each other close, when the police burst in. Someone, to this day I have no idea who, had reported an indecent gathering, and everyone was arrested, and we were pressured to provide names of additional inverts.

“I was consumed with fear and shame. My supervisor from the palace was alerted, bail was met and I was brought before your grandfather. He wasn’t a cruel man, not really; he was simply ignorant, and of his era. He told me the Crown would intervene for my freedom. I begged for Albert to be included in this mercy, and released, but your grandfather refused. He said the offer pertained to me alone, with a condition: that I never see Albert, or any other man of his sort, ever again.

“I had a choice. Albert did not. I was the sole support of my embittered mother and drunken father, and I was desperate that they know nothing of my plight. I’m ashamed to say I agreed to the contract. Albert served, from what I know, two years in jail, and I never saw him again. I never tried to; not only was any such endeavour forbidden, but I assumed I was rightfully despised. I’d loved Albert and abandoned him, which was my real crime. I’d saved myself. Which was my punishment.

“The palace became my only life, and when His Highness was born, and I was assigned to assist in his upbringing, I was gratified. Edgar, your parents were among the finest people I’ve known, and they welcomed my participation. And when they perished so unthinkably young, I knew that your care had become more essential than ever.

“And of course, I’ve taken only the greatest pride in watching you mature into a thoughtful and accomplished young man, worthy of your parentage. And when it struck me that you were . . .”

He paused and smiled.

“That you were like me, I was secretly quite pleased. And when you chose to live openly, I was riddled with doubt, yet wanted to cheer. But I couldn’t, for one reason: I didn’t deserve to. Not after my treatment of Albert. Whom I think of to this day. Every day.”

He gestured to the oil portrait, which was of an impish-looking young guy with a mustache.

“When the few visitors to my room have asked why I’ve saved this picture, I’ve told them he’s a distant but cherished cousin. Edgar, I believe that is what I’ve told you. Until today, I was too ashamed and too heartsick to admit the truth.”

He had tears in his eyes, but collected himself.