“I still don’t know what that is,” Olivia complained.
“You heard Maximilliano.” She loved to say the name, wondering if it really was his. “Just play ourselves.”
“I think that was meant to be an insult.”
Greer glared at Piper. “You only think?”
They made their way through the villa, which felt more like a palace. There was a striking man in elegant evening clothes waiting at the bottom of the curving staircase. When he smiled up at them, Greer realized it was the owner of the Piccione!
What was going on? The girls recognized him immediately and rolled their eyes at Greer.
“Buona sera, signorine. You were lovely before. Tonight you take my breath away.”
Anger over this whole charade emboldened Greer to say, “You look pretty smashing yourself, Signore Moretti.”
He flashed her a smile that could have meant anything.
Sure he was just a poor catamaran owner… One furthermore living hand to mouth who would be held liable if anything happened to the lovely signorine.
The man had a great thing going here. If there really was a Signora Moretti and child, Greer felt sorry for them.
“When the other party had to cancel their reservation for the Piccione at the time of the Grand Prix, it became your lucky day, did it not?”
“The experience of a lifetime,” Piper said through gritted teeth.
Olivia’s hand went to her throat in a dramatic gesture. “We still haven’t recovered. It’s like we’re moving through an amazing dream.”
Nightmare you mean.
He chuckled. “I’m very happy to hear it. Shall we go in? I’ll introduce you to a few guests.” He opened one of the ornate floor to ceiling doors.
Greer blinked. A few people? She’d been aware of chamber music, but not voices. There had to be at least seventy beautifully dressed guests congregated in groups around the elaborate appointments of the drawing room! If the crew was there, she couldn’t tell.
“Fabio!”
An attractive dark blond woman wearing a stunning oyster toned designer dress, left the people she’d been talking to and hurried across the parquet floor with her handsome escort to kiss Signore Moretti on either cheek.
The other man, evidently her husband, stood a few inches taller than Fabio with enough gray in his black hair to make him distinguished. Both looked to be in their early sixties.
A spate of Italian broke from all three of them, giving Greer the impression they were close friends who hadn’t met for a while. But then nothing about this trip had been as it seemed. What was the line, “We are all actors and the world is our stage”?
“Rina? Umberto?” Fabio spoke up. “There are three sisters I want you to meet,” he explained in English. “They chartered the Piccione for this time slot. When I found out who they were, I decided to keep it a surprise until tonight.”
“So much alike, yet the eyes are so different.” The woman smiled warmly as she and the other man studied each of them. Then her dark flashing gaze that put Greer in mind of the great black’s, suddenly locked on the pendants. She let out a cry that brought her husband’s arm around her shoulders. All conversation in the room ceased.
With a chuckle Fabio said, “No, Rina. You and Umberto are not hallucinating. May I present Greer, Piper and Olivia. They are the Duchesses of Kingston of the royal House of Parma-Bourbon, anxious to meet their long lost family.”
His announcement created a shock wave of interest throughout the crowd.
“Because of the theft of the Maria-Luigia jewelry collection, there was some unpleasantness when the signorine came through customs a few days ago wearing the Duchesse pendants.
“You will be happy to know it is all cleared up now. Signore Rossi has determined that one of the pendants they’re wearing is the other original made by Tocelli for Maria-Luigia.”
“Other?” The word echoed throughout the room as everyone looked at them in astonishment.
“For some reason yet to be uncovered, the artisan fashioned two identical pendants. Therefore it appears that the myth about an ancestral line making its way to America is not a myth after all.”
What? But the crew said—
“Signorine? May I present your many distant relatives. First of all, Rina and Umberto, the Duc di Varano of the House of Parma-Bourbon.”
Greer and her sisters let out a collective gasp that was even louder than the cry of the other woman, the woman they’d just been introduced to who could be none other than Max’s mother! The resemblance to both parents was unmistakable.
But that meant the first mate was the son of a d—
“Come, signorine.” Fabio started ushering them around the room. “Meet your hosts for this evening, Violetta di Varano, Umberto’s sister who is the wife of Jean-Louis, the Duc de Falcon of the House of Bourbon.”
Another duc? Luc’s mother was named Violetta?
Noooooo.
Olivia’s groan coincided with hers. Luc’s parents smiled broadly. “An exquisite surprise,” his father murmured before kissing their hands with the kind of dashing charm bequeathed to their injured son.
Greer was still reeling with shock and rage, unable to take it all in.
“Standing next to them is Maria di Varano, the second sister of Umberto who is married to Juan-Carlos, the Duc de Pastrana of the House of Bourbon.”
“What a thrilling moment for the Varano family,” Nic’s mother responded with genuine pleasure. “Niccolo will have to sort all of this out for us. He’s the expert in the family.”
A hysterical laugh emerged from Piper’s throat. Thankfully Fabio continued to sweep them along, making the introductions of the rest of the guests, one of whom could possibly be the person responsible for the theft of the ducal palace jewelry collection. Undoubtedly Signore Moretti was watching everyone’s reactions, which he would report to the crew.
There was no sign of them yet.
It was a blessing, particularly since she suspected her sisters were on the verge of strangling someone with their bare hands. Greer would be the first in line, and she knew which neck she wanted to start with.
The three of them drew close together for a second.
Olivia drew in a noisy breath. “Luc de Falcon is going to wish he didn’t need a cane because when I get hold of i—”
“Signorine?” came Fabio’s voice. “Last but not least, may I present Isabella di Varano, wife of Giovanni di Luccesi—”
“And my only sister.”
Of course.
The grand entrance of Maximilliano the Magnificent himself!
“This is very exciting,” the dark-haired beauty exclaimed.
Isabella was as gorgeous as her brother, but Greer refused to look at him.
She couldn’t fathom any of what was going on. In truth she was only barely functioning.
“If all of you will excuse our bellissima Duchesse cousins,” Max spoke in a vibrant voice that would have penetrated the farthest corners of the room. “They need their rest after spending a miserable night in the Colorno jail while I worked out the legalities with the police.”
The crowd’s sympathetic reaction couldn’t possibly have been orchestrated.
“Following their release they chose to take a grueling four-hour bike ride in the hot sun to see the countryside of their ancestors. Unfortunately they ran into some trouble that required my help again.”
Greer stole a look to see if he’d been struck by lightning yet. What a horrible mistake that turned out to be. His black eyes were laughing at her.
“I’m quite sure they’re at the point of exhaustion, but as the chief commissioner confided to me, they charmed the guards and handled their harrowing ordeal with all the dignity and spirit of the former Duchesse of Parma herself. Signorine? May I be the first to say, welcome to the family.”
His mockery in front of God and all these witnesses who were clapping after such an amazing speech was too much.
“Thank y
ou,” Greer said to everyone with a smile. “It’s been a pleasure to meet everyone.” Her sisters said virtually the same thing before they all murmured their good-nights.
She made her exit out the door with the kind of poise her parents would have been proud of. The girls weren’t far behind. After reaching the foyer, they flew up the staircase to their suite like a bunch of homing pigeons.
Once the door was locked Greer turned to her sisters hot-faced. “We know we’re not related, so how dare he mock us like that. Now that we finally know which way the wind is blowing, we’ll see who has the last laugh.
“No way are they going to get the satisfaction of bundling us up in the royal limo and shipping us back to America like so much unwanted baggage. Obviously that was their plan as soon as they were through using us.”
Olivia wore a set jaw. “We came to see the Grand Prix and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“We can escape off the balcony,” Piper muttered. “It’ll be a cinch. I saw a little portico just below it. From there we can jump to the ground and merge into the crowd before they discover we’re gone.”
Greer marched over to her suitcase. “This operation calls for jeans and T-shirts, but we’ll have to be wearing our travel suits when we ring for maid service.”
Within a few minutes several of them appeared at the door to carry the luggage to the limo.
“Thank you. We’ll be right down.”
The second the door was closed, they peeled off their suits, hung them in the closet, then put on their casual clothes and sneakers.
They met at the balcony. “One for all, and all for one,” Piper whispered before going over the railing first. It was like déjà vu, except that instead of water, they landed on pavement.
Piper was off like a shot between two villas across the street. Olivia followed close behind. Greer brought up the tail as they discovered a narrow alley farther on and started running like crazy in the direction of the harbor below.
The crowds of spectators waiting all night to see the race roamed the streets and alleyways, impeding their progress. But it no longer mattered because she and her siblings blended with the crowd.
Farther down when they came out on the main street again, they passed a set of bleachers with a huge “Villon” banner fastened across the top. Olivia stopped in her tracks. “You guys—”
“We know. We saw it, too.”
“Let’s find out if there’s room for three more.”
Whether it was because they were triplets, or because the gods were smiling on them, a group of exuberant French guys probably in their late teens and early twenties seemed only too happy to let them squeeze in next to them.
They spoke little English which made it amusing. In every other way they communicated like mad. Olivia’s knowledge of Cesar Villon’s racing statistics enamored her to them. Greer and Piper just smiled and pretended they were hard-core fans, too.
For the first time since the girls’ arrival in Europe, they were treated like royalty. The one named Simon fed them ham filled brioches. The other ones named Gerard, Jules and Philippe, supplied drinks and treats. They carried pocket transistors that picked up all the information about the drivers and the cars. Excitement ran high.
Then came the first rays of the sun and with it the roar of the race. Screaming engines permeated all of Monaco, loud, close, far and soft. Between the unintelligible reporting of the announcer over the loudspeakers plus the echo of the cars bouncing off the buildings and hills, the thrill of the sport was like a fever in the blood.
Fans dotted the scene before them like bits of pepper in a pasta dish. Some were draped over balconies, others hung out of windows, still others looked through the holes in fences all along the route. When Cesar Villon roared by, there was an explosion of noise that probably broke a few eardrums.
Greer looked over at Olivia who was being hugged by one of the guys in the excitement of the moment. She nudged Piper who put her lips to her ear so she could hear her. “Seeing Villon whiz by has made this trip for our sister.”
“I’m glad one of us can go home with a good memory.” Greer’s temper was still as hot as a firecracker.
“When do you want to head for that youth hostel Simon told us about. I’m ready to pass out from lack of sleep.”
“You’re not the only one. Let’s go.”
They called to Olivia who nodded and started making her way toward them. The guys tried to talk the three of them into staying. The only way Olivia could persuade Gerard to let her go was to tell him to come by the hostel that evening. By then they’d be ready to party.
“He drew me a map, guys,” she said as soon as she reached the aisle of the bleachers. “With this crowd it’s about an hour’s walk from here.”
“After yesterday’s bike ride, it’ll be a piece of cake.”
Max instructed the helicopter pilot to fly over the Piccione again. Since it had been determined that their prize pigeons had flown off the villa balcony while he and his cousins had been picking Fabio’s brains for information about the guests’ reactions to the news, there’d been no trace of them. Not at the Nice airport, not at the train station.
“Every police officer had been given a description and was told to call in at the first sign of them. Where in the hell could they have gotten to so fast without being detected?”
His cell phone rang. It was Nic who’d been working with the police on the ground. “Did you find them?”
“No. We’ve checked with the concierge of every hotel. There’s been no report of seeing them at the reception counters. They haven’t asked for a room. What about the boat?”
“Fabio says they haven’t stepped foot on it,” Max muttered.
“Dios!” Nic thundered.
None of them wanted to entertain the thought that the women had been so desperate to get away from them, they’d asked a lift from some predators who had no interest in racing and only came to Monaco for just such an opp—
“Hang on, Nic. Luc’s calling.” He put him on hold and clicked to Luc. “Any news?”
“They’re seven blocks from the villa!”
“What?” His heart practically leaped out of his chest.
“I just saw them on the TV screen while a cameraman was panning the lower portion of the route chatting with fans. They’re being very cozy with a bunch of enamored college guys sitting on some bleachers bearing a Villon banner.
“Mon Dieu— I don’t know where my mind has been not to think of that first! The stand is next to the corner of the Rue de Cypres. If I didn’t have this damn leg holding me back—”
“You have your leg! That’s the most important thing, and it’s going to get better. Because of you, we now know where our pigeons have come to roost. Nic’ll round them up. In the meantime I’ll instruct the pilot to fly over the area so I can keep an eye on them. I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything more.”
He hung up, gave the pilot new instructions, then clicked on to Nic and told him the situation.
“I’m on my way now with the police,” his cousin responded with a noise in his throat that sounded oddly emotional to Max. Was it possible Nic was coming back to life after all these months?
Max waited till the helicopter had reached the desired vicinity. Using his binoculars, he zeroed in on the stand in question, but he didn’t see the face he was looking for. No hair of spun gold. The knowledge that the women had already fled the scene hit him like a kick in the gut.
“Keep circling,” he rapped out to the pilot while he waited for Nic to arrive. In a few more minutes his cousin approached in a police car, followed by two more patrol vans. He and half a dozen officers got out and started interrogating everyone on the bleachers. It seemed to go on a long time.
Eventually he noticed four of the spectators being escorted to the vans. Good. They knew something!
Before long Max received the call he’d been waiting for. “Nic?”
“The women have gone to a local
youth hostel on the Avenue Prince Pierre.”
Unbelievable.
“Our witnesses refused to cooperate until we threatened them with a night in jail for obstruction of justice. No doubt they were planning to meet them there later for a few nights on the road together,” his voice grated.
Max ground his teeth so hard, pain shot through his jaw. “How much lead time do we have on them?”
“Probably forty minutes.”
“It’s enough for Luc to set things up the way we want. I’ll meet you back at the villa.”
After clicking off, he phoned Luc and let him know what was happening.
“Leave it all to me, Max. By the time you both get here, we’ll be able to relax and catch some sleep before tonight.”
Sleep? What was that?
Since the moment he’d followed Signorina Greer inside the San Giorgio church in Portofino where he’d first glimpsed her face in the candlelight, he’d felt an unprecedented stirring in his blood.
The sight of her distinctive profile, the texture of her skin giving off a glow of natural pearls, those violet orbs—all had kept his legs planted in the shadows where he could feast his eyes on her without detection.
She had a lovely body. In the flattering sundress, she was the essence of classic femininity. The kind that would grow more beautiful when she became a mother.
Haunted by that image, he’d left the church ahead of her, hungry and restless for the one thing in life that would always elude him.
“Max?”
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
“Of course.”
“If you say so, mon ami.” There was a click as he replaced the receiver.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WE DON’T have individual rooms, mesdemoiselles. Our dorms have four bunk beds each, eight people to a room. Right now we only have four beds left in the whole center.”
“Is it an all women’s dorm?”
The receptionist at the Centre de Jeunesse Pierre shook her head. “We don’t make distinctions here.”
To Catch a Groom Page 15
