Love Wins In Berlin Read online

  “Two hand-picked Secret Service members of the British Embassy, ” the Marquis replied. “When I was there this morning, I told the British Ambassador what I intended to do. He gave me a passport for Watson and offered me the services of his two most trusted men. They have been trying unsuccessfully to find out where Watson was imprisoned for some time now.”

  Simona smiled.

  “So they were impressed that you had managed to succeed where they had failed.”

  “I think they were extremely thankful. The Ambassador told me he had received many secret instructions from England that Watson must be found and returned immediately.”

  “I suppose that was because you had been agitating for his release?”

  “Quite right, Simona,” the Marquis replied, “I was very concerned when I found that Watson had disappeared and furious that the Germans had managed to spirit him away before anyone could suspect what had occurred.”

  “Now you have proved that you are much cleverer than they are!” Simona exclaimed.

  “The person who has been clever is you,” the Marquis replied. “Watson said it was absolutely impossible to break into the Panzer Haus except by that particular door, which was the only one unguarded.”

  “They will have such a shock tomorrow morning,” Simona said gleefully.

  “And so will the Countess,” the Marquis remarked.

  Simona looked at him.

  “I have only just realised that you recovered from your hay fever attack very quickly. How did you manage that?”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “Very easily! I stopped sniffing that beastly pepper that Dorkins gave me. It was not only extremely unpleasant, but made my nose very sore.”

  Simona chuckled.

  “It was a virtuoso performance and I was completely taken in by you. I was worrying about you being so ill.”

  “Now you have found out that it was all pretence.”

  “And I refuse to worry about you ever again,” Simona answered. “You are too good an actor and you think up too many cunning schemes.”

  “I think Dorkins and you will have to write a book together,” the Marquis suggested. “I can take very little credit for this escapade, however many others I may have been involved in.”

  “But it is you who must write the book. Think how exciting it will be for your children to read!”

  As she spoke she remembered that the Marquis intended never to get married.

  He noticed the colour rise in her cheeks, which made her look lovelier than any woman he had ever seen.

  He felt a sudden impulse to tell her so, but he knew they were alone and unchaperoned and he must behave like a gentleman.

  “What I am going to request,” he suggested, “is that you make a pillow of your coat and I will cover you with mine and you must try to go to sleep. We have a two hour journey ahead of us and I did wake you up when you had hardly begun your beauty sleep. Though that, I may add sincerely, is quite unnecessary!”

  Simona smiled at him.

  “Now it is over I would have hated to miss it all, and I am sorry I behaved so – foolishly when you and Watson – came back to the carriage.”

  “I will tell you more about your behaviour when we are on the Sea-Horse.”

  “Your yacht is something I am longing to see,” Simona said, not really understanding what he had meant. “And there are a lot more questions I want to ask you.”

  “So you will not be bored while we are crossing the North Sea, which can be very rough at times.”

  “Nothing will seem rough after what we have just been through. I think it is a sensible idea that we should both go to sleep and you must not be too grand to lie down and relax.”

  “I assure you that I have slept in far worse places than this train,” the Marquis smiled.

  Simona did as he had suggested and arranged her coat as a cushion refusing to allow him to put his coat over her. She told him she was warm enough and he needed it as a pillow for himself.

  He accepted her offer and they both lay full length on the reasonably comfortable seats.

  As she closed her eyes, Simona thought that no one would believe what had happened or what was still happening to her.

  It was all so exciting, so dramatic and thrilling and she was here alone with the Marquis and no one would disturb them.

  ‘It is all so wonderful’, she thought to herself and felt her heart beating in a very strange manner.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When the train arrived at Hamburg they hired a carriage to the port where the Sea-Horse was waiting exactly where the Marquis had ordered the Captain to moor it.

  As they went aboard Simona sighed again with relief.

  She had been so looking forward to seeing the Marquis’s yacht, feeling sure that it would be very much an expression of himself, which indeed she found it to be.

  When she walked into the saloon she found it was extremely attractive. It was furnished in exactly the way she expected the saloon in a grand yacht to look.

  The Marquis was busy giving orders.

  The yacht’s engines were already humming and after a few preliminaries with the port officials, the Sea-Horse began to move slowly into the centre of the river.

  It was then that Simona thought she would like to change her clothes. She asked a Steward if he knew where her cabin was.

  “His Lordship’s valet is there already, Miss,” he replied.

  Simona clambered below.

  There were, she found, eight cabins opening off the main passage.

  It was not difficult to find Dorkins as the door was open and he was busy unpacking her clothes.

  “We’ve done it, miss,” he said as Simona entered.

  “Yes, it is so exciting,” she agreed. “How long will it take us to reach the sea?”

  “About two hours, miss,” Dorkins replied.

  He finished putting her clothes into a cupboard and shut the case.

  “Are yer going to lie down, miss,” he asked, “or change yer clothes?”

  “I would like to change,” Simona answered. “I expect his Lordship will now want breakfast.”

  “That’s what Mr. Watson is enjoying already,“Dorkins replied. “I’ve never seen a small man eat so much so quickly!”

  Simona laughed, but at the same time she thought it horrifying that the Germans should have starved their prisoner to extort information from him.

  Dorkins excused himself.

  She took off the dress she had travelled in and put on a lighter and more attractive one.

  She was sure it was going to be a hot day and she hoped she could go on deck with the Marquis.

  Perhaps he would tell her about the palaces they were passing as they steamed down the river.

  ‘I will be alone with him,’ she thought with joy. ‘No one can interrupt us!’

  As it was still early, she felt certain that neither the Baron nor the Countess could yet be aware that the Marquis had escaped.

  When they read her letter they would have to pretend to be sympathetic that her father was ill.

  Equally she was sure that they would be grinding their teeth with rage, knowing there would now be no chance of extracting the secrets of the gun from the Marquis.

  ‘We have outsmarted them,’ Simona told herself triumphantly.

  She washed her face and hands.

  When she looked in the mirror she hoped that the Marquis would think that she looked pretty.

  She had been so afraid that he was really captivated by the Countess and still finding her irresistible.

  She was intelligent enough to acknowledge that the Marquis had deliberately kept the Countess happy and unsuspicious until they could escape with Watson.

  ‘He is so astute! So very brilliant!’ she said to herself. ‘I shall miss him terribly when I go back to Papa and Mama.’

  She was wondering how much of what had happened to her she should tell her father and mother.

  She felt perhaps t
hey might be shocked at her wearing nothing but a deep sea diving suit and squeezing through a grating.

  At the same time she had achieved something essential for her country and her father would appreciate that and be proud of her.

  She thought too that he would be interested by the strange fact that the Kaiser had been so fascinated by her hands that he had actually stopped asking the Marquis difficult questions about the gun.

  ‘It has all been like a story out of a novel’, she thought again.

  She strolled back to the saloon, hoping that the Marquis would join her, but she learnt from the Steward that he was still on the bridge with the Captain.

  “I expect you would like some breakfast, miss,” he said. “I will tell his Lordship that his is ready.”

  Simona saw that breakfast was laid out on a table at one side of the saloon.

  On the other side there was a handsome flat-top writing desk, which she recognised as regency from its gold clawed feet.

  She also appreciated the beautiful gold inkstand, thinking it must have been given to the Marquis as a presentation at a grand occasion.

  She did not have to wait long before he appeared for his breakfast. He too had changed his clothes and now he was wearing white trousers and a boating-jacket with gilt buttons.

  He smiled when he saw Simona and said,

  “As you must realise, we are on our way. As soon as we are at sea, we can relax and enjoy ourselves.”

  “The Stewards are bringing us breakfast and I hear that Mr. Watson is eating us ‘out of house and home’!”

  He laughed.

  “I told him not to change from being a woman until the German coast is no longer in sight. After that he can be himself again.”

  “Such a splendid disguise!” Simona declared. “I am sure it must have been Dorkins who bought exactly the right clothes and wig for a lady’s maid.”

  “Dorkins is a genius, there is no doubt about it!” the Marquis replied. “And I could not have managed without him!”

  He looked at Simona before he added, “Or, of course, without you. It is really your triumph, not mine.”

  The way he spoke brought colour to her cheeks and the Marquis thought it had been a long time since he had known a woman who actually blushed.

  Or one who did it so attractively.

  He did not, however, want to embarrass Simona with too many compliments so he sat down at the table saying,

  “Will you please pour me a cup of coffee? Like you, I am very hungry.”

  On cue the Stewards brought in several dishes of eggs, bacon and fresh fish.

  Both the Marquis and Simona ate without saying anything until the meal was finished and then the Marquis remarked,

  “We seem to be making good headway. Would you like to come out on deck with me?”

  “Of course I would, I want you to tell me about the interesting places we are passing, because I have a feeling I will never see them again.”

  “I can say the same,” the Marquis agreed. “I do not think we will be very welcome in Germany for a long time. Of course they will know that we have rescued Watson and taken him away with us.”

  “As they stole him in the first place,” Simona protested indignantly, “they can hardly complain.”

  “That is true, but the Kaiser does not like being thwarted in any way and I think we should not underrate him as a dangerous enemy.”

  “Now you are frightening me,” Simona replied.

  They walked out onto the deck, where the sun was shining and the river a streak of silver stretching ahead of them.

  Because the Sea-Horse looked so impressive onlookers stared and waved as they moved down the river.

  The river grew wider.

  Simona thought that the countryside they were passing was particularly beautiful.

  The Marquis pointed out to her the spires of several churches and two or three mansions in the distance which he had visited.

  Eventually just ahead of them they had their first sight of the open sea.

  Simona wanted to stand on the bow of the yacht, but the sun however was really very hot.

  Without saying anything, she walked back to ask the Steward if there was a sunshade on board – if not, she would fetch her hat.

  “I thinks there is a sunshade, miss,” the Steward answered. “I will find it for you.”

  “That would be very kind.”

  She returned to the saloon, thinking again how attractive it was.

  Because she was interested, she walked over to the writing desk to take a closer look at the gold inkstand. She was just touching it when the Marquis entered.

  “We shall be in the North Sea in a few minutes,” he said, “now we can really begin to relax and enjoy ourselves.”

  As he spoke he moved beside her to open one of the drawers in the writing desk. Taking a revolver from the pocket of his jacket, he placed it carefully into the drawer.

  “I was looking at your inkstand,” Simona said. I am sure this lovely object was given to you because of some magnificent achievement.”

  “I do not like to boast,” the Marquis answered, “but it was, in fact, a present from the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. I had helped him in a rather difficult case when he could find no solution to his many problems.”

  “But you found one?”

  “I was lucky, but on that occasion I did not have someone very lovely called Simona to help me!”

  For a moment she looked at him wide-eyed and again she blushed.

  “I have a great deal to say to you, Simona, but I have been waiting until we were at sea.”

  Simona felt her heart turning a somersault.

  Before she was able to find a reply, she became aware that the yacht had slowed down and had stopped.

  “What on earth has happened?” the Marquis exclaimed.

  He moved quickly from behind the writing desk and had reached the centre of the saloon, when a Steward appeared carrying some drinks and glasses.

  He set them down on the side-table.

  “Why are we stopping?” the Marquis asked sharply.

  “I think it is something to do with a Coastguard,” the Steward replied.

  “Oh! Is that why?” the Marquis remarked.

  He turned as if to walk back to Simona, when the door of the saloon opened again.

  This time another Steward announced,

  “Herr Richter to see you, my Lord.”

  A man came into the room who was obviously German. He assumed an air of authority, although he was not wearing a uniform.

  The Steward who had announced him closed the door behind him.

  Herr Richter stood for a moment looking at the Marquis, as if, Simona thought, he was appraising him.

  Then he said in good English, but with a strong accent,

  “I understand, sir, that you are the Marquis of Midhurst?”

  “That is correct.”

  “I have instructions,” the German proclaimed, “to take you ashore, as there are certain questions to be asked of you regarding your visit to Berlin.”

  Simona drew in her breath.

  The Marquis replied quite calmly,

  “Questions? Questions by whom?”

  “The order has come to me,” Herr Richter said somewhat ponderously, “from my Headquarters. But I understand that it is the Emperor himself who requires your answers.”

  “Then I am afraid,” the Marquis retorted, “that I cannot oblige His Majesty at this moment. It is most important that I return to England at once and as you know we have already reached the open sea.”

  “His Majesty will not take ‘no’ for an answer,” Herr Richter said. “Therefore, sir, I must insist that you accompany me ashore immediately.”

  “And if I refuse?” the Marquis asked quietly.

  The German drew a revolver from his pocket and pointed it at him.

  For a moment there was complete silence.

  Simona stifled an exclamation of horror.


  Still quietly, with almost a note of amusement in his voice, the Marquis ventured,

  “Are you really threatening to shoot me when you must be aware that such an act would cause an international incident, indeed a major diplomatic crisis?”

  “I will not kill you,” Herr Richter responded. “But if you are wounded in the arm, you will have to be taken to hospital right away, and from there it will not be difficult to convey you to where I am instructed to take you.”

  Again there was silence.

  Almost as if she was guided by what the Marquis had called ‘a greater power’, Simona, who was still standing behind the writing desk, gently opened the drawer.

  Her fingers touched the revolver.

  “Now surely,” the Marquis said calmly, “we can talk this over amicably.”

  “You will come with me now, sir,” Herr Richter replied, “or I will shoot you in the arm.”

  At that moment Simona took the revolver out of the drawer, aimed it and fired.

  She had intended to hit the German in the hand.

  But the bullet struck the finger he held on the trigger and at the same time the trigger itself.

  Herr Richter screamed and fell backwards.

  As he did so his revolver went off and a bullet buried itself in the ceiling.

  With the swiftness of a man who had known danger, the Marquis in one bound reached Simona, taking his revolver from her hand and thrusting it into his pocket.

  Immediately the door opened and two Germans followed by several Stewards came rushing into the saloon.

  The Marquis bent over the fallen Herr Richter with a look of concern on his face.

  “What has happened?” one of the Germans gasped, speaking in German.

  “An unfortunate accident,” the Marquis replied. “Herr Richter was showing me his revolver, which is different from any I have yet seen, when it accidentally exploded, injuring his finger. And, as can you see, damaging the revolver itself.”

  He pointed, as he spoke, to where it lay on the ground with a portion of Herr Richter’s finger. He was groaning and blood was pouring from his hand.

  “Get him to a hospital,” the Marquis said in a commanding tone, “as soon as possible. He is losing a great deal of blood, which can be very dangerous.”