To Catch a Groom

by Rebecca Winters

  So did Greer. They’d all watched that idiotic film and weren’t triplets for nothing. “You mean turn things around by pretending we’re the millionaires?”

  “Why not?”

  Why not indeed. Greer realized it was a stretch, but if her business projections held true, they’d be doing very well for themselves by the time they were thirty.

  “Guys—” Piper broke in with dramatic flourish. “We have a lot more going for us than money. We’re titled! Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Duchesses of Kingston!”

  Brilliant.

  So brilliant in fact, Greer was still staring at her talented sister in wonder when Olivia suddenly blurted, “The Duchesse pendant!”

  No one’s mind could leap faster from A to Z than Olivia’s.

  “Yes?” Greer prompted. “What about it?”

  The pendant was a gold rectangle. It was encrusted with amethysts surrounding a pearl-studded pigeon with a red-orange eye of pyrope garnet.

  According to the story their dad told them, a court artisan fashioned the pendant for the Duchess of Parma, otherwise known as Marie-Louise of Austria of the House of Bourbon. On the back of the pendant was a stylized “D” and “P.”

  When she died, one of her children inherited it, and then it was given to a granddaughter who passed it down through the Duchesse line until it fell into their father’s hands.

  In anticipation of their sixteenth birthday, Greer’s parents had gone to a jeweler who’d had two matching pendants fashioned using the original for a model so each of their daughters could have the same memento.

  “For your children to cherish,” their parents had said, giving them a loving hug and kiss along with the gift.

  Eleven years later and their daughters were still single. Greer assumed that one day they’d all be married and have families. She just didn’t know when, and couldn’t have cared less.

  “Think, my dear duchesses!” Olivia grinned. “Where is there a lovely beach with a whole bunch of gorgeous playboys running around looking to marry a titled woman wearing the family jewels?”

  “The Riviera, of course.”

  “Of course!” Greer’s sisters cried.

  “Except that we came through the illegitimate line of the House of Parma-Bourbon,” she reminded them.

  “Who cares? We are related!”

  “Only if the story’s true.”

  “Daddy seemed to think it was,” Piper reasoned, “otherwise how would he have ended up with the pendant?”

  “Somebody could have made up a tall tale about it that grew legs down through the years,” Greer reminded her sisters. “Still, we do have it in our possession, and no one’s been able to prove we’re not related. Anyway, you’ve given me an idea.

  “We know Marie-Louise went by three other titles; Duchess of Colorno, Duchess of Piacenza and Duchess of Guastalla. So what if we each took a title representing our relationship to her? We could outcon all the playboys we want.”

  At this point her sisters stared in awe at Greer whose eyes reflected the exact color of the Duchess of Parma violet.

  The flower had been named for their ancestor who loved violets so much, when she wrote letters she often left the imprint of the flower rather than her signature.

  A conspiratorial smile broke out on Olivia’s face. “I say we start on the Italian Riviera with one side trip to Parma and Colorno to see the palaces where she lived. Then work our way along the coast to the French and Spanish Riviera, letting it be known we’ve been in Italy visiting our…royal relations?”

  Brilliant! Sometimes Olivia’s innovative ideas reflected pure genius.

  Greer’s thoughts leaped ahead. “We’ll do business while we’re there so we can write off our trip as an expense on our taxes. It shouldn’t be difficult to find someone to translate our calendars into various languages and distribute them for us. It might be the start of something really big.”

  Piper’s eyes gleamed. “In time Violetta and Luigio could become household words all over Europe. Just don’t forget we’ll have to honor Daddy’s wishes by trying our hardest to snag a husband at the same time,” she reminded them.

  “It’ll be a piece of cake,” Olivia declared. “As soon as we let it be known we’re duchesses, our unsuspecting victims will fall all over us.”

  “And we know why, don’t we,” Greer said with a definite smirk. “Because they’re nothing but a bunch of impoverished adventurers who prey on wealthy women and prefer to marry a titled one if possible.” One delicately arched brow lifted.

  “Their black moment will come when we smile sweetly and admit we’re the poor American duchesses. ‘Sorry. No tiara.’ So if they want to take back their proposals…”

  Piper shook her head at Greer. “You’re wicked.”

  “Terrible,” Olivia concurred.

  “Not as terrible as they are. Just watch the bodies fall!” Greer eyed her sisters with unholy glee. “Let’s go inside and make our plans while we eat lunch.”

  Piper was the first one out of the car. Olivia followed. “If we hurry, we can apply for passports before the place closes today.”

  Greer brought up the rear. “Airfares are really cheap to Europe right now, which is good news since we’ll need new wardrobes.”

  “If we’re going to do this thing right, maybe we should charter a private yacht.”

  “I’m way ahead of you but I don’t think we could afford it.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to find out,” Olivia said. “Maybe if it were a small one?”

  Once inside the apartment Greer hurried over to the computer in the living room, which they’d made into their office. The girls hovered around while she did a dozen searches of yachting services.

  “Hmm. I’m afraid they’re out of our price range. So far the best we can do is charter a crewed sailboat for twelve people. It’s $5,000 a week per person if the boat is full at the time of departure. That’s no good.”

  Piper leaned over Greer’s shoulder. “Just for fun, click to the crewed catamaran listings. It’s says they’re cheaper.”

  When the information appeared on the screen, they studied the names of the boats with avid interest.

  “Look!” Olivia blurted. “There’s one called the Piccione.”

  Greer had already spotted the Italian word for pigeon. Their dad had always called his daughters his “pigeons” because of the beautiful white Duchesse pigeon the Italians had named in honor of the Duchess of Parma. Just for fun she clicked to it. After the specifics popped up, she read them aloud.

  “This immaculate, white, fifty-one-foot sloop sleeps two to six guests. Crew of three. Full amenities, three meals per day. $3,000 per person. Ten days on the Mediterranean.

  “Ten guys! Plan your own itinerary. The swift way to get close to any beach. Contact F. Moretti, Vernazza, Italy.”

  Olivia nudged Greer. “That’s what you call exclusive at the right price. It must be destiny! E-mail them and find out if they have any openings left for this summer or early fall.”

  “Do we care which month?”

  They both shook their heads.

  After sending an inquiry, Greer joined them in the kitchen. They hurriedly ate sandwiches before rummaging around for their birth certificates.

  Once those were found, they left for the passport office. En route they stopped to get their passport pictures taken, reminding them they all needed a new hairdo to go with their new duchess look.

  An hour later they started for home. On the way Piper noticed a travel agency. She told Olivia to stop the car so she could run inside and get some brochures.

  On the way back to the apartment, they almost got into an argument because everyone wanted to savor the brochure on Vernazza. Greer had to admit the place sounded like heaven.

  One of the most unspoilt areas of the Mediterranean. To visit Vernazza is to visit the Cinque Terre, a kingdom of nature and wild scents; five villages suspended between sea and sky, clinging on to cliffs and surrounded by gree
n hills. Who visits Cinque Terre can choose between a dive in the sea, a hike in the hills, a walk in the narrow “carruggi,” or a boat trip to a sanctuary or to a seafood lunch.

  Piper was the first to reach the computer after they’d entered the apartment.

  “We’ve got an answer to our e-mail!”

  Greer and Olivia leaned over her shoulder while she read it to them.

  “Thank you for your inquiry. Due to an unexpected cancellation, the June 18 slot is available. Woohoo!” She jumped up and down in the swivel chair.

  “You are very fortunate since the twentieth is the date of the Grand Prix in Monaco where we have docking privileges. If you wish to take advantage, you must advise us immediately.”

  Piper swung around in the chair. “Monaco, guys. The playground of the rich and ‘wannabe’ rich and famous. The Grand Prix! Think, Olivia— Maybe you’ll be able to see that dashing French race car driver you talk about all the time. The one that puts Fred’s nose out of joint every time you mention him.”

  “It’s Fred’s fault if he introduced me to Formula I racing. Wouldn’t it be something to bring home Cesar Villon’s autograph?” Olivia’s eyes were shining.

  Greer was thinking it would be even more exciting to meet an Italian from their own Duchesse family who could provide the documentation proving their relationship to the Duchess of Parma.

  “Piper? Find out if they’ll accept another thousand a piece from us so we can have the boat to ourselves.”

  “Ooh, I forgot about that, Greer. Good idea. I don’t dare tell Tom about this or he’ll want to come along.”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It isn’t as if you’re in love with him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Well are you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then ten days away from him will prove it one way or the other. Right?”

  “I suppose so.” Piper finished typing the question and sent an instant message.

  While they waited for an answer, Greer studied one of the brochures with a map detailing the Mediterranean coastline bordering Europe.

  Another shriek of delight came out of Piper. “They’re willing if we pay in full now.”

  “Before we commit, we’ve got to find out if we can get plane reservations,” Greer cautioned.

  “I’ve already inquired.” Olivia put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Everything’s booked solid into Milan, Rome and Bologna, but we could still get seats to Genoa for June 16, returning June 29.”

  Greer looked at the map once more. “That’s only fifty or so miles from Vernazza,” she estimated aloud. “We could take a train and find a hotel for the 17 and 28. Book those flights for us, Olivia!”

  Piper turned to Greer. “How do we want to pay for the boat?”

  She pulled the wallet out of her purse. “Here. Use our business credit card to pay the bill in full. Let them know it’s the Duchess of Kingston of the House of Parma-Bourbon making a reservation for an exclusive party of three, and you want that information kept confidential.”

  When the deed was done, their laughter bounced off the living-room walls.

  “That was good thinking, Greer. Now it’s guaranteed word will leak out,” Olivia murmured. “We’ll have to arrive at the dock looking sensational.”

  “Oh—” Piper cried. “You just made me think of something else. Remember that Paris elevator scene in the film about the American girl whose fiancé falls in love with a French girl? Remember the knockout dress she had on?”

  Olivia’s delicate brows arched. “Who could forget? We ought to be able to find inexpensive outfits and beachwear like the ones she wore. Maybe a hat or two? No one will know we didn’t pay a fortune for them.”

  “Not if we wear our pendants,” Piper inserted.

  “Exactly. The men we’re targeting survive by going after women with jewels. Without a jeweler’s loupe, they won’t be able to detect the fakes from the original.” To this day Greer couldn’t tell the difference.

  “Then it’s settled! We’ll arrive in Italy wearing our pendants and see what happens! Since we have to stay at a hotel the first night we get there, I say we make a big splash. What’s the most exclusive one in Genoa?”

  “Just a sec, Olivia.”

  Piper got busy on the Internet once more. “Hmm…how about the Splendido in nearby Portofino, first discovered by the Duke of Windsor. ‘Preferred by royals overlooking Portofino harbor, gateway to the Riviera.’ Twelve hundred Eurodollars a night for the three of us. It’s about twenty-five miles from the airport and they have limo service. Do you guys think it’s worth it?”

  Both Greer and Olivia nodded.

  “So do I. Let me check to see if there’s a room available for the seventeenth. By the time the twenty-eighth rolls around, we’ll have had our fun and can stay in a youth hostel if our funds are running low.”

  Greer’s eyes narrowed. “A hostel will be the perfect place to invite our ‘would be’ husbands when we drop our little bombs.”

  Olivia started chuckling. “You have no heart.”

  “You’re scary,” Piper told Greer.

  She gave them her innocent look. “Did Cinderella have a choice when the carriage turned into a pumpkin on the way home, leaving her with one glass slipper?

  “Can we help it if all we’ll have to show for our attendance at the ball is the pendant we were wearing when we arrived?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  June 17, House of Lords, England

  “MY LORDS, we will begin by hearing the opening statement from Signore Maximilliano di Varano of the House of Parma-Bourbon. He is the chief counselor avvocato for the Emilia-Romagna Farmers Consorzio of Italy, of which the Federazione del Prosciutto de Parma, a member, is the appellant in the case brought against the United Kingdom Supermarket Cartel, known as UKSC, represented by Lord Winthrope.”

  Back in the House of Lords for the second time in a year, Max got to his feet, determined his appeal would force the case to be moved to the European Court of Justice for a definitive decision.

  “Thank you, my lords,” he began with virtually no trace of accent, thanks to an elite private school education that included four years at Oxford and extensive travel in the U.S. and Canada with his cousins.

  “To refresh your memories, Prosciutto de Parma, or Parma ham, has been made in Parma from pigs reared in northern and central Italy since Etruscan times. It is famous throughout the world with a name that is a protected designation of origin.

  “The Corona Ducale, a five-pointed coronet symbolizing the ancient Duchy of Parma, is the outward guarantee of authenticity. According to Italian law, it has to appear upon the product in whatever form it is sold to the customer. If he buys a complete ham, or slices cut up at a shop, it has to bear the brand. If he buys prepackaged slices, it must appear stamped on the package.

  “The second respondent, Prime Choice Affiliates, is a reputable food processor in Herefordshire that prepares packages of authentic Parma ham slices and pieces to be sold to the first respondent, UKSC, which sells them to the public in its supermarkets. Unfortunately it’s done without the Corona Ducale on the package.

  “The Federazione del Prosciutto de Parma maintains this is an unlawful practice under Italian law, as well as European law, enforceable in the courts of all the member states.

  “In the present proceedings, the Federazione claims a continuing injunction against Prime Choice Affiliates and the UKSC, restraining them from marketing the packages as Parma ham until the European Court of Justice can hear the case and make a definitive ruling. I now yield my time back to Lord Winthrope.”

  When Max sat down, his assistant, Bernaldo, handed him a note.

  With one ear taking in the QC’s opening remarks, he read the message. But his mind was focused on the case to the degree that it didn’t register until he’d read it a second time.

  Your secretary in Colorno just received a call from the head of security at Cristoforo Colombo airport
in Genoa Sestri. You’re to phone Fausto Galli at 555 328 as soon as possible. It’s a classified matter of great importance.

  Translated, it meant there was no crisis such as his own personal family or extended family being injured in an accident or some such thing. Relieved, he put the message in his suit pocket, making a mental note to call Signore Galli back during the recess.

  For ten minutes Max listened while the QC pontificated. Finally the man came to the point.

  “In my view there exists a fair argument that the supervisory role of the Parma Federation in ensuring that only the genuine product is sold as Parma ham, has been discharged once it leaves the Parma area. I yield back to Signore di Varano.”

  Once again Max got up from the chair. “My lords, the issue here is whether the Federazione del Prosciutto de Parma’s prohibitions contained in a legislative measure of a member state can achieve community wide effect to the U.K. and elsewhere. Therefore I respectfully appeal this case to the European Court of Justice. Otherwise it will continue to remain at an impasse which achieves nothing for either party.”

  Following his remarks, presiding judge Lord Marbury announced a fifteen-minute recess. Curious to discover what the call from Genoa was all about, Max pulled the cell phone from his breast pocket and dialed the number written on the paper.

  He only had to wait two rings before he heard a male voice say, “Pronto. Signore di Varano?”

  “Si?”

  “It is an honor to speak to you. I have some news that I know will be of great interest to your family. Since you handle its legal affairs, I felt it prudent to alert you first.”

  “Go ahead, signore.”

  “A half hour ago three American women passed through customs after deboarding their flight from New York. My men detained them using the excuse they were vetting incoming passengers for information due to a suspicious person being aboard the plane. In truth, it was discovered they’re each wearing the Duchesse pendant.”

  “Each?” Max shook his dark head in exasperation. “That’s impossible!”

  There was only one pendant in existence, but it could be anywhere because well over a year ago the Duchess of Parma jewelry collection on display at the family palace in Colorno had been stolen.