by Anne Stuart
I smiled my gratitude, breathing a sigh of relief. "And you, Maggie?"
She shrugged her plump shoulders in the stylish dress. "That William isn't half the man I'd hoped he'd be. Perhaps I might do better with a foreigner. Your father is a fine figure of a man, Miss Luciana. If any of them Eyetalians come close I'd be a happy woman."
"Take it from me, my girl," Uncle Mark said morosely, dwelling on ancient injuries, "there's no one like Luc del Zaglia." He refilled our wine glasses, then held up his glass in a toast. "To Venice, ladies! And let us pray I'm not making the worst mistake in a mistake-strewn life."
I lifted my glass, looking him squarely in the eye. "To Venice," I echoed. "To a free Venice and an end to Austrian tyranny!"
"To Venice," Maggie said dreamily, "and love."
I hesitated, but only for a moment. It was long past time to toss my bonnet over the windmill. I laughed aloud. "To Venice," I echoed, "and love."
CHAPTER TWO
The train began its way along the long Austrian- built causeway as we started on our last lap of the hurried, exhausting trip to the fabled city of Venice. I peered out through the soot-stained windows, eager for my first glimpse of the place that had meant more to me than the land of my birth, but in the late summer's twilight I could barely see the domed skyline in the distance.
"We're almost there." I turned to my companions. Maggie had her face pressed against the window while Uncle Mark nodded wearily and buried his nose once more in the paper. "Aren't you excited, Uncle Mark?" I demanded sternly. "We've finally reached our destination."
He put the paper down and sighed. "I must say I'm glad all our traveling is over. Though I'd be much happier if you saw reason and returned on the next train." He shook the paper into neat folds. "And no, I am not excited to be in Venice once more. My memories of the place are not my fondest."
"Why not? You met Mama there." I am a bit inquisitive, and at times almost lacking in tact.
"Because, Miss Busybody, I also met your dear father there, who proceeded to steal your mother away from me."
I had known all this for years, but never failed to be fascinated by it. "Pish, tush," I dismissed his complaints heartlessly. "Mama and Father were made for each other. You should have known that."
"Nevertheless," he announced with injured dignity, "I have never taken a bride."
I reached out and patted his hand, chagrined at my unsympathetic tone. "That is indeed a great shame, Uncle Mark, for all the women of the world." He cast a suspicious look at me out of his nearsighted eyes, but I spoke in all seriousness. "If it's any consolation to you, you've been my parents' best and dearest friend."
He sighed, a sound halfway between complacency and despair. "Yes, it's true," he said heavily. "It's probably just as well I never married. It wouldn't have been fair to give a lady only half a heart."
A small, strange noise came from Maggie, one I recognized as a snort, and I cast her a severe glance. I found my Uncle Mark's posturings as a heartbroken swain infinitely touching despite the fact he was, without a doubt, a born bachelor uncle.
"Best put your hat on, Miss Luciana," Maggie announced after an emotional pause. "And fix your hair. You do look a sight."
I rose and peered into the velvet-framed mirror the Austrian engineers had thoughtfully provided the first-class passengers on this most modern of railway cars. Black hair was straggling over my green-clad shoulders, my sooty lashes added to the circles around my large topaz eyes, and my narrow face was pale with fatigue. Incompetently, I stuffed my hair back into the loose coil I usually wore, pulled on my far-from-fashionable bonnet, and, as an afterthought, stuck my tongue out at both my reflection and my disapproving maid.
"I scarcely do you credit, Maggie," I noted, watching her as she stuffed filmy scarfs, French novels, and half-eaten chocolates into one of the bandboxes she had brought along.
She cast a disparaging glance over my attire and sighed gustily. "I've long ago given up on making a fashion plate of you, Miss Luciana. I'm waiting till you fall in love. Then you might take some interest in your appearance."
"You may have to wait awhile," I warned her, striding nervously around our small, private compartment as the train began pulling to a stop.
"I've waited long enough already," she said sternly, primping in the mirror. "If you'd only . . ."
"Oh, please, Maggie, don't scold," I begged, practically dancing with excitement. "I want this moment to be perfect."
She sighed again, and Uncle Mark smiled benevolently. "Well, missy, I believe we've arrived. Would you like to be the first one out? To get your view of the city alone?"
I leaned down and gave him an exuberant kiss. "You know me so well, Uncle Mark. Bless you."
With a shrieking of steam, grinding of gears, and clanking of metal, the great engine finally ended its seemingly endless journey. Within a few moments more our door was opened and the steps lowered. With my heart pounding beneath my stiff green traveling gown, I put my gloved hand on the sooty railing and stepped down onto Venetian soil for the first time in my life.
My first sight of Venice was as astounding as I had expected it to be, though the subject matter I focused on with my excellent eyesight was far from what I had anticipated. Watching me from halfway across the crowded, dimly lit station was the most extraordinary man I had ever seen.
He towered over the Italians around him, even topping most of the much taller Austrian soldiers that milled aimlessly about the station. His hair was dark gold and cut long in that style that looks natural rather than contrived. His nose was straight, his mouth beautifully formed, his expression unreadable at that distance. But I knew with a certainty he watched me as I watched him, as I looked into the most beautiful deep silver-blue eyes I had ever seen. Never had I seen a man more handsome, with the possible exception of my father. And then he turned slightly, and I saw the scar.
Cut into one side of his magnificent face, starting up in the hairline and ending just above his strong jaw, was a fine, white line, marring his perfect beauty, yet somehow enhancing it. That one terrible imperfection mocking his handsome face and turning it into something far beyond mere good looks. A gusty sigh escaped me.
" 'oos that, Miss Luciana?" Maggie cooed in my ear, her eyes bright at the sight of an attractive male.
I stifled the angry jealousy that swept over me. "Isn't he the most handsome man you have ever seen?" I whispered.
She looked at me in amazement. "No," she said bluntly. "He's not half bad, but I would hardly say the most handsome. In the top fifty, perhaps . . ." she allowed cautiously, peering at him.
Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and sighed. "The most handsome, Maggie. Without question."
"What's all this?" Uncle Mark demanded, climbing from the railway carriage and unceremoniously pushing Maggie out of the way. "What's going on with you two?"
"Miss Luciana's fallen in love," Maggie announced, and I kicked her.
"Uncle Mark, who is that man?" I questioned urgently. "He must be British . . . no other race could look quite so arrogant."
"Which man, m'dear?" he murmured, casting myopic eyes out over the crowd.
"Why, over there . . ." I looked again, and to my sorrow, which was all out of proportion for such a little thing, I found that he had disappeared. "He's gone," I said flatly.
Maggie looked up from nursing her wounded leg, and the look in her hazel eyes was sympathetic. "Don't you worry, miss. You'll see him again. If it's meant to be."
I shook my head nervously, as if to deny my reaction to myself and to her. "Why, whatever do you mean? I'm sure you're making a mountain out of a molehill. He was just a very handsome man, that's all. I would hardly be human not to notice."
"That's all well and good, miss. But you've never noticed before." She held up a thin, work- worn hand to hold off my protest. "Never you mind. I'll say no more on the matter. Not now, leastways."
"Seen an attractive fellow, eh, Luciana?" Uncle Ma
rk boomed, still a few minutes in the past. "Well, chances are you'll meet him soon enough. Society, that is, English society, moves in very close circles in these foreign cities. Bound to come across the fellow sooner or later. Unless he's entirely ineligible, that is."
"For God's sake!" I swore, desperate. "The two of you are practically marrying me off, and I've never even spoken to the man. I wish you would just. . ."
"Yes, Fraulein?" A guttural German voice spoke from behind me, and I whirled around nervously.
My first sight of the hated Austrian army was fairly prepossessing. The young man in front of me could scarcely have been much older than I. We were of the same height, yet somehow his cold blue eyes seemed to look down on me with a sneer I found distinctly irritating.
"The Fraulein has yet to go through customs," he said stiffly. "If you will be so kind . . ." He gestured to his left, and with dismay I saw a long line of my fellow passengers, their luggage pawed through, their faces set in angry expressions of rage and exhaustion. "We have been having a bit of trouble with a small band of insurgents," the man continued blandly, "making it necessary to search all visitors' luggage for contraband. I am sure the Fraulein will be more than happy to assist the Austrian army in their duty."
"Now see here, Captain!" Uncle Mark blustered, and I quickly shushed him. There was obviously no help for it. I gave him a polite nod accompanied by the merest trace of a smile. "Of course, Captain." I headed off in the direction of the disgruntled line, and once more his meaty hand came down on my silk-clad arm. I halted, looking pointedly at the offending member until he removed it.
"We have a special place for you, Fraulein del Zaglia," he said heavily, and at the mention of my name my backbone stiffened in alarm. "Your companions may join the others, but we are determined to give you a better-than-average welcome. It is not often one of the ancient Venetian families chooses to return to their water-drenched city. The Imperial Army is very interested in your reason for doing so and most concerned as to whether we can expect the joy of your fathers presence before too long, eh?" He smiled, revealing so many white, shining teeth I was quite revolted.
"My father has no intention of returning to Venice," I replied stiffly. "Not until its invaders have left."
My captor glowered, the meaty hand descending once more. Against my will I felt myself being forced toward a dark and sinister-looking doorway, and I bit back the temptation to scream for help. Screaming would do no good . . . the Austrians were in charge here. They would be far more likely to assist the brute by my side. And all poor Uncle Mark and Maggie could do was stare at us helplessly.
"Telfmann!" A voice broke through my red haze of anger, and the hand released me immediately.
"Sir!" He saluted smartly, and I followed his gaze.
The officer who had accosted us was somewhere near middle age. He could have been anywhere from forty to sixty, with closely cropped blond- gray hair, cold, cold blue eyes, and a hard, cruel expression on his handsome, slightly bovine face.
"You will leave Fraulein del Zaglia to me," he said softly, menacingly in German. Thanks to my educated mother, I could understand every word. "I gave you orders that she was to be brought to me with the minimum of fuss, and I see you struggling all over the station with her. You have been inept, Telfmann."
"But sir," he protested, "how was I to know she was a bad-tempered giantess?"
I snorted indelicately, and the cold blue eyes met mine for a brief moment. I was not reassured.
"The Fraulein, like her mother, obviously understands German. You may leave us, Telfmann. I will deal with you later."
The younger man left quickly, protesting angrily in a muttered undertone, as I turned to face his replacement.
Having let my guard slip momentarily, I was anxious to regain lost ground. I put out one small-boned hand and gave him my most enchanting smile, reserved for Austrian pigs. "If you knew my mother then you must be Holger von Wolfram!" I cried ingenuously. "Mother has told me all about you." And Bones, too, I added silently, recognizing him as my enemy.
There was no change in his hard expression. "No doubt," he replied caustically. "And your father also, hein?" He cast a questioning glance back at the curious figures of Maggie and Uncle Mark, and even from a distance I could see Maggie's instinctive preen. Holger von Wolfram was far from unattractive, and Maggie, English as she was, lacked my instinctive hatred for the Austrians.
"That is my maid and companion, Maggie Johnston," I offered brightly. "She's accompanying me on my small version of the grand tour. I decided when I reached France that I simply couldn't return home without visiting the family seat in Venice." I gestured toward Uncle Mark's stooped figure. "And you remember my godfather, Mark Ferland?"
"I am acquainted with Mr. Ferland," he said dryly. "And that is your reason for being here, Fraulein? To visit your heritage?"
I let out a light trill of laughter. "But of course! Why else should I venture alone to such an insalubrious place? No doubt my parents would disapprove heartily, but I failed to notify them of my intentions." I smoothed my bottle-green skirt, peeking up at the soldier with what I hoped was demure charm. "I'm sure I'll receive a great scold when I return."
"Your parents do not know you are here?" he demanded, an expression of disgust crossing his stolid face. "Bah, you are just like your mother! No doubt"—and here he smiled evilly—"your father, when he hears what you have done, will come and fetch you home again?"
And how you'd like that, I thought. "Oh, no. I expect to be back long before he even finds out I've gone. And they'll trust Mr. Ferland to take good care of me should I be delayed."
"You expect your business to be concluded so quickly, then?"
"Business?" I echoed innocently, enjoying this verbal fencing. My mother, in her tales of Venice, had failed to mention how very acute the good colonel could be. "What do you mean?"
He smiled. "Why, your pilgrimage to your ancestral home, of course. What else could I possibly mean?" He cleared his throat loudly, and I jumped. "Though I must warn you, Fraulein, that Venice is a dangerous place for people here on less harmless . . . business." There was a slight emphasis on the last word, and I barely controlled a shiver of dismay.
"I have no intention of doing anything more dangerous than sightseeing," I replied brightly, hiding my uneasiness like a practiced spy. "Really, Colonel, you sound like something out of Byron . . . full of dark deeds. Do you think someone will stab me and drop me in the canal?"
He bowed over my hand with mock gallantry. "It could be arranged, Fraulein. If necessary. Auf Wiedersehen."
It took me only a moment to recover from the threat. "Good-bye, Colonel. No doubt we will see you again before we go."
"Have no doubt of it, Fraulein."
"Are you all right, Luciana?" Uncle Mark demanded as I finally reached his side. "Who was that fellow?"
"Do you remember Holger von Wolfram, uncle?" I questioned, and was not at all reassured to see the ruddy color drain from his face.
"Couldn't likely forget him. He nearly murdered your father, Luciana. He's a dangerous man, through and through. I advise you to keep clear of him." He paused, a puzzled look on his distinguished face. "Can't understand why he's still in Venice. He always hated the place. When I knew him twenty-five years ago he seemed a man destined to rise to the heights of his profession. Could have gone anywhere. Very strange."
"Well, I thought he seemed very attractive," Maggie announced obstinately. "In a fierce, angry sort of way. He seemed quite taken with you, Miss Luciana. If you're not interested I might try my hand there. It might be a treat to have an older man for a change."
"If you dare," I said angrily, "even think about consorting with the enemy, Maggie Johnston, I will personally see that you are strangled and chopped in the Grand Canal. That was how the Council of Three used to get rid of their enemies, you know." I tugged uselessly at the ill-fitting jacket. I was still shaken from my unexpectedly sudden enco
unter, and surreptitiously I cast my eyes around the crowded train station. If Tonetti was there, I could not tell. I would simply have to wait for him to make himself known to me.
Maggie was about to answer pertly when she recognized the abstracted expression in my usually mild eyes. "I'm only funning, Miss Luciana. You wouldn't think I'd actually lower myself to waste my time on an Austrian, would you? I doubt I'll have time to get through the Venetians." She chuckled, and reluctantly I smiled.
"Let's go home. Let's change our clothes, have some tea, and get to bed."
"I'd love to, Miss Luciana," she replied. "But where would 'home' be?"
"Why, Edentide, of course," I replied.
CHAPTER THREE
At all events, we didn't arrive at Edentide until early the next afternoon. "Dash it, no one's been in the place in years, with the exception of a few old retainers at infrequent intervals," Uncle Mark protested as we glided down the moonlit Grand Canal. I watched the silvery water float by us almost in a trance, forgetting for a moment why I was here in the enchantment of the August night. Uncle Mark pulled at his sparse and graying mustache, determined to hold my attention. "The place should be infested with rats. Best wait until we can send a few people in there to clean it up."
"But I can't afford to wait," I said stubbornly, pulling myself out of my moon-clouded dreams with an effort. "The sooner I take up residence, the sooner this Tonetti can contact me and I can set about Bones's business. Maggie and I are perfectly capable of doing a hard day's work. We can scrub and clean enough rooms to live in in no time at all."
"I must say I don't like the sound of this Tonetti fellow. Anyone who'd help land a lady in a compromising position can be no gentleman."
"Oh, I have no doubt he's not a gentleman," I said cheerfully. "I'm hoping he's a rake and bears a striking resemblance to the man I saw in the train station tonight."
"Von Wolfram?"
"No!" I shrieked.
"Telfmann?" Maggie questioned, but I could tell from the sly expression in her eyes she knew perfectly well who I meant.
