A heaviness seemed to come over Gino as he realised what he had said. The light went out of his attractive young face, and his eyes sought his brother with a touch of desperation.

Rinaldo’s face revealed nothing. With a brief nod at Gino he stepped up to take his place.

‘My father was a man who could win love,’ he said, speaking almost curtly. ‘That much is proved by the presence of so many of his friends today. It is no more than he deserved. I thank each of you for coming to do him honour.’

That was all. The words were jerked from him as if by force. His face might have been made of stone.

The mourners began to drift away from the grave. Rinaldo gave Alex a last look and turned, touching Gino’s arm to indicate for him to come too.

‘Wait,’ Gino said.

‘No,’ Rinaldo was following his gaze.

‘We’ve got to meet her some time. Besides-’ he gave a soft whistle. ‘She’s beautiful.’

‘Remember where you are and show respect,’ Rinaldo said quietly.

‘Poppa wouldn’t mind. He’d have been the first to whistle. Rinaldo, have you ever seen such a beauty?’

‘I’m happy for you,’ his brother said without looking at him. ‘Your job should be easier.’

Gino had caught the lawyer’s eye and raised his eyebrows, inclining his head slightly in Alex’s direction. Isidoro nodded and Gino began to make his way across to them.

Alex caught the look they exchanged, then she focused on Gino. An engaging young man, she thought. Even dressed in black, he had a kind of brightness about him. His handsome face was fresh, eager, open.

It had little to do with his youth. It was more a natural joyousness in his nature that would be with him all his life, unless something happened to sour it.

‘Gino, this is Signorina Alexandra Dacre,’ Isidoro hastened to make the introductions. ‘Enrico was her great-uncle.’