In Love In Lucca Read online

  “You are wonderful, as you have always been,” Hugo replied, “and I can assure you, I am very glad to be home.”

  He opened the door for the Countess and, as she left the room, she patted him affectionately on the shoulder.

  Hugo came back to Paola and sat down on the sofa beside her.

  “Now tell me about yourself,” he began.

  “All I want to hear about is you,” Paola answered. “As yet I have done nothing exciting, but I hope to have the chance in the future.”

  “What sort of excitement?” Hugo asked.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Paola said as if she was trying to think, “but I want more in life than debutante balls and proposals of marriage, which to my friends at school were the height of their ambition.”

  “You will get all that and a great deal more, looking as you do!”

  He was looking at her as he spoke and, because she was very perceptive, Paola said,

  “What are you thinking about? Tell me. I want to hear it.”

  “How do you know I was thinking of anything?” Hugo asked.

  “You were, were you not?” she persisted.

  “Very well,” he said. “I am wondering whether I can trust you with something that might be dangerous. And then, of course, it might not!”

  “Whatever it is, I would like you to trust me,” Paola insisted. “If it is to do something difficult, all I can say is that I will do my best.”

  Hugo smiled.

  “You are exactly as I thought you would grow up to be,” he said. “And may I point out, my beautiful cousin, it is quite unnecessary for you to have a brain as well as a beautiful face.”

  “I want to have both,” Paola replied. “It may sound greedy, but there is so much that I want to see, hear and feel that it would be a waste just to sit back and hope people will admire me.”

  “Of course it would,” Hugo agreed, “and now I am going to trust you, although I have a feeling it is something I should not do. Equally it’s impossible for me to refuse what is being offered to me, quite unexpectedly, on a plate.”

  Paola moved a little closer to him.

  “What are you saying?” she asked. “Does it have to do with something that has happened in the East?”

  As if instinctively, Hugo looked over his shoulder.

  Then he lowered his voice as he said,

  “I arrived in England yesterday morning and came here, thinking I would be more or less unnoticed amongst my own family.”

  “And why should you want to be unnoticed?” Paola asked.

  “Just for the moment,” he said, “I am a marked man.”

  Paola clasped her hands together.

  “But why? Please tell me why?”

  There was silence and Paola knew that Hugo was still debating with himself as to whether he should confide in her or not.

  She looked up into his face saying,

  “Please, tell me. You know I would never repeat anything you asked me not to. If it’s a puzzle you are confronted with, perhaps I could help you solve it.”

  “You may be able to do that,” he replied, “and now I think about it, it is almost as if Fate has brought me here at this particular moment.”

  “What particular moment?” Paola asked.

  “When you are about to travel to Italy,” he answered, “and, of all unlikely places, to Lucca.”

  There was such a note of surprise in his voice that Paola stared at him.

  Then she asked,

  “Why is it so unlikely and what does Lucca mean to you?”

  Again Hugo looked over his shoulder.

  Then he said,

  “I have undertaken what has proved to be an extremely dangerous mission on behalf of the Marchese di Lucca.”

  Paola eyes widened.

  It seemed to her extraordinary that once again she was hearing about a man she did not know existed until today.

  “It’s a long story and I will not bore you with it,” Hugo began. “But when the Marchese was in India, he saved the life of the Nizam of Hyderabad. The Nizam was extremely grateful and to show his gratitude presented him with a diamond.”

  “Was it a very valuable one?” Paola asked.

  “It’s unique,” Hugo replied, “and came from the Nizam’s own private diamond mine. It is the most perfect stone that it has ever produced.”

  “I would love to see it,” Paola said.

  “That is exactly what you are going to be able to do,” Hugo answered, “because I am asking you if secretly, and without anyone being aware of it, if you will take with you to Lucca the ring that belongs to the Marchese.”

  Paola stared at him.

  “But how is it that you have it?”

  “It was stolen from him and, when he was telling me of his loss, he offered me a very large sum of money if I would retrieve it for him.”

  “But how how could he be so careless as to lose it?” Paola enquired.

  Hugo smiled.

  “I am not certain exactly how they got hold of it, but some very astute and extremely daring thieves stole it and there was nothing the Marchese could do personally to get it back.”

  “So he left India,” Paola said as if she was working out the story for herself, “and asked you if you would try and find it for him.”

  She thought that her relative was hesitating in replying and she went on,

  “I know you have undertaken a great many secret missions, and have played a large part in what Papa told me confidentially is known as The Great Game.”

  “Your father should not talk about such things!” Hugo said quickly.

  “It was only to me,” Paola said. “In fact I doubt if he has even told Mama, but one of his friends was involved in The Great Game and was eventually killed.”

  “It can be very dangerous,” Hugo admitted, “but getting the ring back for the Marchese had nothing to do with The Great Game. It is just that, as usual, I am down to my last penny. If you want to know the whole story, he offered me twenty thousand pounds to recover it for him.”

  Paola gave a cry.

  “That is a huge amount of money!”

  “It certainly is to me,” Hugo replied, “and I can assure you that I have earned every penny of it.”

  “By risking your life?” Paola asked.

  “Not once, but two or three thousand times,” he answered, “but I found it. Now the difficulty is to get it to the Marchese.”

  “Then, of course, I will take it for you,” Paola offered.

  “It is something I ought not to ask you to do,” Hugo said, “but I cannot help feeling that no one will suspect a young and innocent girl of being involved, while if I take it to Lucca, it is very unlikely that I will come back alive.”

  “Then, of course, you must stay away and I will take the ring to the Marchese for you, Paola replied”

  “Will you really do that?” Hugo asked. “If you do, you understand that you must not breathe a word to anyone, not even to your father or mother for I know it is something they would forbid.”

  “No one shall know – no one!” Paola vowed. “I am certain that once I arrive in Lucca it will be easy for me to hand over the ring without anyone being aware that I have done so.”

  She was thinking as she spoke that the one person her mother and the Contessa had said she was not to meet was the Marchese.

  ‘There will be no need for me actually to meet him,’ she thought to pacify her conscience. ‘Once I am in Lucca there will be a dozen ways by which I can get it to him without being personally involved.’

  “How can I tell you how marvellous you are?” Hugo was exclaiming. “I am ashamed of myself for involving you. At the same time I cannot believe, if you are sensible, that you personally will be in any danger.”

  “Then, of course,” Paola said with a smile, “I will be very sensible!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Marchese Vittorio di Lucca dressed himself quickly and with an expertise that came from years of being self
-sufficient.

  He was nearly ready when Princess Leone opened her eyes.

  “You are not leaving, Vittorio?” she exclaimed.

  “It’s nearly dawn,” the Marchese replied.

  The Princess sat up in bed.

  She was without doubt one of the most beautiful women that Florence had ever seen.

  She had been compared to the pictures for which the Galleries of Florence were famous.

  Her admirers had taken her through the Pitti Palace and the Uffizi Gallery and they had pointed out her eyebrows in one picture, her lips in another and her little straight nose in a third.

  Now, with her hair falling over her bare shoulders, she could only have been depicted by Leonardo da Vinci or Fra Filippo Lippi.

  The Marchese, however, was concerned with tying his tie in front of the mirror that stood over the fireplace.

  “Come and kiss me, Vittorio,” the Princess pleaded. “I cannot think why I should have fallen asleep.”

  “It’s not surprising,” the Marchese answered.

  He was thinking that their love-making had been exceedingly fiery and he had found the Princess one of the most insatiable women he had ever known.

  But now he had an urge to leave and was becoming impatient to be on his way home.

  “When shall I see you again?” the Princess asked.

  Her voice was soft and seductive and she knew that, when she used a certain tone, men found it irresistible.

  “I am not certain what I am doing tonight or tomorrow,” the Marchese replied. “When does your husband return?”

  “Not until Thursday,” the Princess answered. “Oh, Vittorio, we must spend as much time as we can together. We may not have another opportunity for some time.”

  The Marchese understood exactly what she was saying.

  He was however, reluctant to be tied down and he was not certain why.

  He had pursued Princess Leone with the determination of an experienced hunter.

  She had not been reluctantly captured – very much the opposite. But her husband was exceedingly jealous and seldom left her unattended.

  Now he had been called to Rome by the Pope and it was an opportunity that neither the Princess nor the Marchese had any intention of missing.

  “I love you!” the Princess said suddenly with a passionate note in her voice. “I love you, Vittorio, and it is agony to let you leave me. Stay with me a little longer and tell me that you love me too.”

  It flashed through the Marchese’s mind that this conversation should have been at the beginning of the evening.

  When the Princess had fallen asleep in his arms, he had not been surprised.

  But now he knew that he needed the comfort of his own bed for at least a few hours of deep sleep before the day started.

  “I will let you know about tomorrow night, Leone,” he said.

  He moved towards the bed as he spoke and Princess Leone flung out her arms towards him.

  She certainly looked exceedingly beguiling as she did so and just for a moment the Marchese hesitated.

  Suddenly the door opened.

  The maidservant who had let the Marchese in earlier in the evening when the footmen were no longer on duty put her head inside.

  “His Highness, madam, has returned!” she gasped. “He has come back!”

  For a moment the Marchese felt as if he was turned to stone.

  The Princess, however, threw herself out of the bed and ran across the room.

  “Quickly, Vittorio, in here!” she whispered.

  Wondering what she was doing, the Marchese followed her.

  She went to the side of her very elaborate and elegant wardrobe that was painted in different shades of blue that the Italians admired on their more elaborate furniture. And the handles and catches were painted silver.

  Reaching the side of the wardrobe, the Princess opened a panel.

  It revealed a space behind it just large enough to hold a man.

  There was no need for her to speak.

  The Marchese stepped into the darkness and the panel shut behind him.

  The Princess, swift as a bird, flew back into the bed and pulled the sheets over her.

  She had only just put her head on the pillows and closed her eyes when the door burst open and the Prince came storming in.

  He stood for a moment staring at the bed as if he could not believe what he saw.

  Then in a voice of thunder he demanded,

  “Where is he? Where is that devil? I intend to kill him before he can leave my house.”

  The Princess opened her eyes.

  Then in a well-simulated tone of surprise she cried,

  “Gustavo! You are back! How wonderful! I was not expecting you so soon.”

  “I know that,” the Prince replied through gritted teeth. “Where have you hidden him?”

  “Hidden – who?” the Princess asked. “What are you talking about, Gustavo?”

  She sat up in bed as she spoke and her husband asked furiously,

  “Why are you naked? Why are you not wearing a nightgown?”

  The Princess pushed her long hair back from one shoulder.

  “It was so hot and I was not – expecting visitors.”

  “But he was here! I was told he was here!” the Prince roared.

  He walked across the room as he spoke and pulled violently at the doors of the wardrobe. He could see in the light from the candles burning by the bed that there was only the Princess’s gowns inside.

  They were a kaleidoscope of colour, fluttering a little in the breeze he created as he opened the doors.

  The Prince slammed them shut and walked to the window to look behind the curtains.

  There was no one there and again he screamed furiously,

  “He is here! I know he is here!”

  “I don’t know what you are – talking about, Gustavo,” the Princess murmured.

  “You know as well as I do,” the Prince said sharply, “that Vittorio di Lucca has been pursuing you and it’s unlikely that he did not make the most of my visit to Rome.”

  “You are being quite ridiculous,” the Princess said. “You know, Gustavo, that I love only you and that I need no other man in my life.”

  “I was told that Lucca was here!” the Prince asserted.

  “Who told you such a lie?” the Princess enquired. “If you are having me watched Gustavo, I consider it unkind and deceitful of you.”

  “It is you who are being deceitful,” the Prince argued.

  Now his voice was not so aggressive.

  But he was still looking round the room as if he was sure that the Marchese was hiding under a chair or a sofa.

  Yet he could not be certain that he had not been deceived.

  The Princess held out her arms to him.

  “I have not yet welcomed you home,” she said softly. “It’s so lovely to see you and I have been very lonely since you went away.”

  “I don’t believe you,” the Prince snapped.

  At the same time, as he looked at his wife, his voice softened.

  “Go and undress and come to bed,” the Princess whispered. “Then I will tell you how glad I am to see you and how much I have missed you.”

  For a moment the Prince hesitated.

  Then he felt that there was no point in continuing to accuse her of something that he could not prove.

  He put the revolver he was carrying into the pocket of his coat.

  “Very well,” he said a little gruffly as if ashamed at his own weakness, “but there are a great number of questions I want to ask you before I let you pull the wool over my eyes, as you have done before.”

  “How can you be so unkind and so – unbelieving?” the Princess asked tentatively.

  “You are too beautiful, that is the long and the short of it!” the Prince said almost as if he was speaking to himself.

  He went from the room and there was the sound of a door opening further along the corridor.

  The Princess wa
ited for half a minute before she jumped swiftly out of the bed and gently closed the door the Prince had left ajar.

  She then sped across the room to the wardrobe and opened the secret panel at the side of it.

  The Marchese stepped out.

  As she put her finger to her lips, he followed her on tiptoe across the bedroom.

  There was a door that led into a narrow passage used only by the servants.

  The Marchese passed into it and saw at the far end the Princess’s special maid who had warned them of the Prince’s arrival.

  As he joined her, she moved without a word down a steep staircase that led to the back of the Palace, where there was a door that opened into a courtyard.

  As the Marchese reached it, he could not help noticing that the bolts were drawn back and the key turned in a lock that had been recently oiled.

  He pressed a number of gold florins into the woman’s hand before he stepped into the courtyard.

  On the other side of it there was a gate leading into a dark alley and the Marchese knew that his carriage would be waiting in one of the narrow streets on the other side of the Palace.

  Not near the front where it could be observed by anyone passing or in this case by the Prince arriving home.

  It took the Marchese only a short time to locate his vehicle.

  As he climbed into it and the footman closed the door, he thought with relief that he had had a narrow escape.

  He was well aware of the scandal that would have been caused if the Prince had shot him as he intended.

  All Florence would have said it was only what he deserved.

  The carriage carried him swiftly back to his own house, which was some distance away.

  As it did so, the Marchese kept wondering how many other men had escaped from the Palace in a similar manner.

  He was obviously not the first lover to be hidden behind the secret panel and then led down the backstairs by what the French called a complice d’amour.

  He realised as he listened to the Princess’s conversation with her husband how specious she was in convincing him of her innocence.

  It was, the Marchese thought, very cleverly done and it must also have been rehearsed a number of times before!

  He had not expected the Princess to be as pure as driven snow nor, as the most beautiful woman in Florence, to be unaware of her attractiveness.