‘You’re too kind,’ he said smoothly.

A man who was never at a loss, she thought, ready with the right words, the right attitude, always ahead.

So why had he bothered to come here? What could he hope to gain now Ben was dead?

Suddenly she didn’t care any more, about anything. There was only a weary longing for all this to be over. She closed her eyes, swaying slightly, then felt strong hands steadying her.

‘Not much longer,’ said Vincente’s quiet voice.

The words echoed her thoughts so exactly that she opened her eyes sharply and found him standing close, holding her gently.

‘Don’t give up now,’ he murmured.

‘I wasn’t-that is-’

‘I know,’ he said, and she had the strangest feeling that he did.

He began to guide her towards the car, waving away the chauffeur to open the door for her himself. Just before she got in, Elise glanced up at someone else who’d caught her eye in the cemetery. This was a woman in her thirties, attractive in a flashy way, wearing expensive black clothes that somehow managed to look blowsily overdone.

It occurred to Elise that this stranger too had been regarding her oddly, with a kind of belligerence, hating her and sizing her up at the same time. But Signor Farnese had occupied her thoughts, leaving her little attention to spare.

‘Who is that lady?’ he asked, getting in beside Elise.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.’

‘She seems to know you, if the looks she’s been giving you are anything to go by.’

It was a short journey to The Ritz, where a lavish buffet had been laid on in the grandiose suite Ben had insisted on occupying. Elise would have preferred a quiet affair, but she’d splashed out on Ben’s funeral out of a kind of guilt. Now he was dead she felt uneasy about her hostility, no matter how much he’d deserved it. She couldn’t grieve but she could give him the kind of send-off he would have wanted, suitable for a wealthy, important man, even if the wealth had often been a conjuring trick and the importance had existed only in his head.