The Venetian Playboy’s Bride

‘No, it’s important.’

Strange muffled sounds reached her, and a grunt that had a masculine tone. Full of foreboding, Dulcie opened the door.

The room was in darkness, but in the silver light from the window she could see the huge double bed. On one side of it was Jenny, hastily clutching the sheet to her. On the other side was a suspicious bump.

Dulcie stared at that bump, disbelief warring with anger and misery. He’d not only played her false, but he’d rushed straight back here after their encounter by the canal.

‘This really isn’t a good time,’ Jenny protested.

‘I think it’s a great time to expose a man as a cheat and a liar,’ Dulcie said firmly, making for the far side of the bed and grabbing the sheet.

A pair of hands grabbed it back. She yanked. He yanked. But she yanked harder, wrenching the bed-clothes right back to reveal the naked man beneath.

She had never seen him before in her life.

‘This is Fede,’ Jenny said in a small voice.

‘This?’ Dulcie stared. ‘He’s not Fede.’

‘Yes I am,’ the young man declared, trying to haul the sheet back and cover his embarrassment. Having succeeded, he politely offered her his hand. ‘I am Federico Lucci. How do you do?’

‘Very badly,’ Dulcie said in a dazed voice. ‘In fact I think I’m going slightly crazy. If you’re Fede, who did I just throw into the canal?’

They both stared at her.

Dulcie turned away suddenly and went to stand in the window, looking out. She was beyond thought, and almost beyond feeling. Buried deep in her turmoil was something that might yet turn out to be happiness. It was too soon to say.

The other two seized the chance to get out of bed and put some clothes on. When she looked back Fede had switched on the light, and now things began to be clearer-and more confused.

In the picture Roscoe had shown her there had been two men, one playing the mandolin and singing to Jenny. Naturally she’d assumed this was Fede. The other man, sitting just behind them, was little more than a baby-faced boy. It had never occurred to her-or to Roscoe, she was sure-that he might be Fede.

Yet it seemed that he was.

Then who-?

It was Jenny who recovered her composure first. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘Why have you been going about throwing people into canals?’

‘Because he asked for it,’ Dulcie said wildly. ‘Because he-oh, no, he couldn’t have.’

‘Perhaps you have been too much in the sun?’ Fede suggested kindly.

‘Yes I was,’ Dulcie admitted. ‘I was very poorly and he looked after me. But I thought he was you-he was wearing your shirt-at least, it had your name on it-and rowing a gondola-’

‘It sounds like Guido,’ he said.

The name stunned her. She’d been hearing about Guido all evening. ‘Guido who?’

‘Guido Calvani. He’s been my friend since we were at school. One day he’ll be a count, but what he really likes best is rowing my gondola. So I let him borrow it, but he has to pretend to be me because he doesn’t have a licence.’

Dulcie forced her limbs to unfreeze long enough to go to her purse and take out the photograph.

‘Is that him? The one playing the mandolin?’

‘That’s Guido,’ Jenny said. ‘He’s been a good friend to Fede and me. When I first came to Venice he used to do Fede’s stints on the gondola so that we could be together.’

‘We knew we were being followed,’ Fede put in, ‘so sometimes we’d all go out together, to confuse her Poppa.’

‘You confused him all right,’ Dulcie said, sitting down suddenly.

Jenny gave Dulcie a puzzled look. ‘But how do you come to have this picture?’

‘Your father gave it to me,’ Dulcie said reluctantly. ‘As you suspected, he had you followed when you were last here. He thought Fede was-well-’

‘A fortune hunter,’ Fede supplied wryly.

‘I’m afraid so, but it’s worse. He seems to have got you totally muddled with Guido, and thinks you claimed to be heir to a title.’

‘That’s what Guido was telling me when that picture was taken,’ Jenny remembered.

‘Your father’s spy must have been near enough to hear that,’ Dulcie said, ‘but not near enough to get the story straight. He obviously just overheard bits. Did he take this picture?’

‘No, it was taken by one of the street photographers to sell to tourists,’ Fede said. ‘I know because I bought a copy off him, and one seems to have reached the count, Guido’s uncle, and he’s been giving him a hard time about it ever since. Signor Harrison’s spy must have bought one too, and carried back a garbled version of what he’d overheard.’

Jenny was looking at Dulcie curiously. ‘But why did Dad give this picture to you?’

‘Can’t you guess?’ Dulcie said bitterly. ‘I was sent here to find Fede and set him up.’

‘How?’

‘Pretend to be rich, divert his attention from you. Find out if he really was an aristocrat, as he’s supposed to have claimed.’

‘But I’m not,’ Fede said blankly. ‘I’ve never pretended to be. That’s Guido.’

‘I know that now. I was supposed to make a play for Guido-Fede-flaunt my money-Roscoe’s money-then show you that he wasn’t faithful, that he’d follow the cash. I’m a private detective, Jenny.’

‘You’re a what?’

‘Your father hired me to “open your eyes”. It seems that he’s the one who’s blind. Oh, Jenny, I’m so sorry. I thought I was saving you from a deceiver. But I got it all wrong.’

She braced herself for the shock and disillusion in Jenny’s eyes. But after the first moment Jenny relaxed and shrugged. As she looked at Fede a smile came over her face, and the next moment they were in each other’s arms.

Dulcie understood. Jenny had the love of the man she loved, and nothing else mattered.

‘You mean you’ve been sweet-talking the wrong man all this week?’ she asked from the shelter of Fede’s embrace.

‘Something like that,’ Dulcie said stiffly.

Jenny gave a choke of laughter, and Fede joined her. After a moment Dulcie too managed a weak smile.

‘It’s not funny,’ she said. ‘He’s been deceiving me.’

‘Well, you were deceiving him too.’

‘Only in a good cause,’ Dulcie said firmly. ‘But I don’t understand about this title. I’ve been to his home. It’s in a backwater. It’s not-’

‘Not what you’d expect from a future count,’ Fede supplied. ‘That’s why Guido likes it. Actually he’s a very rich man in his own right. He started a business making souvenirs. He owns two factories, one making glass, and one making all sorts of tourist knick-knacks, fancy dress, pictures, videos-’

‘Masks?’ Dulcie asked in a strange voice.

‘Oh, yes, masks. They’re his speciality. He even designs some of them himself, but mostly he’s a very sharp businessman. His official home is in the Palazzo Calvani, but he keeps that little apartment as a refuge, and of course it’s a good place to take the kind of ladies he doesn’t want his uncle to know ab-’ he stopped as Jenny kicked him.

‘Thank you,’ Dulcie said blankly. ‘I get the picture.’

‘It’s a pity you didn’t hit on the right man,’ Jenny mused.

‘Pardon?’ Fede was startled. ‘You want other women chasing me?’

‘Only because I know you’d have been faithful, my darling,’ she told him fondly. ‘Then Dulcie could have straightened the whole thing out with Dad.’

‘I’m not sure I could,’ Dulcie said. ‘He wants you to marry a rich man, or a title, preferably both.’

‘And all I want is Fede,’ Jenny said. ‘I don’t care if I never see a penny of Dad’s money. I’m of age. I don’t have