The waiters were clearing away. Elise stood back to let them depart, then returned to what was clearly going to be a battle. Fine. She was just in the mood.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

‘Mary Connish-Fontain,’ said the other woman deliberately, stressing the double barrel.

‘Is that supposed to mean something to me?’

‘It will, when I’m finished. I came here to demand justice for my son. Ben’s son!’

Out of the corner of her eye Elise was aware that Vincente Farnese had become mysteriously alert, although he never moved.

‘You had a son by my husband?’ Elise asked slowly.

‘His name’s Jerry. He’s six.’

Six. Elise had been Ben’s wife for eight years. But it wasn’t a surprise.

‘Are you saying that Ben was supporting you?’ Elise asked. ‘I don’t believe it. I’ve been through his financial affairs and there’s nothing about you or a child.’

‘There wouldn’t be. We broke up before Jerry’s birth. He-he didn’t want to hurt you.’

If Elise had believed her before, she didn’t now. Ben had never cared about hurting her.

‘I married someone else,’ Mary went on. ‘But now we’ve split up.’

‘What’s his name?’ Signor Farnese asked suddenly.

‘Alaric Connish-Fontain,’ Mary said, puzzled. ‘Why?’

‘It’s an unusual name. I recognised it at once. Your husband’s crash into bankruptcy was really spectacular. No wonder you’re looking for new fish to fry.’

‘How dare you?’ Mary snapped.

‘Forgive me. Your motives are, of course, as pure as the driven snow.’

‘How did he feel about Ben’s son?’ Elise intervened.

Mary shrugged. ‘He thought Jerry was his.’

‘But when he lost all his money Jerry suddenly became Ben’s,’ Elise said scornfully. ‘Don’t take me for a fool.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ agreed Signor Farnese.

‘You can say what you like,’ Mary snapped. ‘I want what’s right for my son. He should be Ben’s heir and I’m going to see that he is. You’ve got a posh house, so sell it, and I want half. What are you smiling for?’