Hurrying into the bathroom, he seized a clean robe and a large towel. Her coat was light and soaked right through. Taking it off was easy, but then he knew he must remove her dress. He worked fast, praying that she might not awake until he was finished. To his relief she stayed dead to the world.

When she was decently swathed in the towel robe he rubbed her hair until it was no more than damp, then got some blankets, laid her on the sofa and placed them over her.

What the devil had happened to her? How had she ended up alone at night, in a thunderstorm, naked in the hands of a stranger? He’d tried not to notice details of her body, but he’d sensed that she was too thin, like someone who’d lost a lot of weight quickly.

‘Wake up,’ he pleaded.

When she didn’t move he became desperate. Taking a glass and a decanter from the cupboard, he poured a measure of brandy, hauled her up and forced it to her lips. Some was spilt, but enough went down to make her sneeze and open her eyes.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now finish drinking this.’

He gave her no choice, holding the glass to her lips until she’d drained it.

‘Who are you?’ Pietro asked in Italian. ‘How do you come to be here?’

‘Excuse me,’ she whispered in English.

He too switched to English to say, ‘Never mind. You need food and rest.’

But there was more here than simply malnutrition and weariness. She looked like someone on the edge of sanity, and he was sure of it when she began to murmur words that made no sense.

‘I shouldn’t have come-I knew it was a mistake, but there was nothing else to do-he’s the only one who can tell me-but maybe it doesn’t matter-only I have to know. I can’t bear it any longer, not knowing.’

‘Signorina-’

‘Do you know what that’s like? To wonder and wonder when there’s nobody who can help you-and you think you may spend all your life in the shadows?’

Without his realising, his hands tensed on her shoulders.