‘Signora Helena Veretti, I suppose we must call her, though it goes against the grain.’

Slowly she moved backwards until she could just make him out again. He had his back to her, but suddenly he turned, giving her a glimpse of his face and making her pull back sharply.

Salvatore Veretti.

She might be mistaken. She had only an old photograph to go on.

But there was no mistake about what he was saying.

‘I can’t think why she’s not here yet. I came to Larezzo to see if any of the staff had heard anything, but they all swear blind that there’s been no sign of her.’

Now she was glad that she’d learned Venetian dialect, for without it she wouldn’t have understood a word, although the ill-will in his tone was unmistakeable.

‘Don’t ask me what happened to the stupid woman. It doesn’t really matter, except that I don’t like being kept waiting.’

Really! thought Helena with wry humour.

‘Whenever she arrives I’m ready for her. I know just what to expect; some smart miss on the make who married Antonio to get her hands on his money. She may have fooled him, but she won’t fool me. If she thinks she’s going to take over here, she’s mistaken. And if she thinks I don’t know the kind of woman she is, she’s even more mistaken.’

There was a pause, during which Helena reckoned the other party was actually managing to get a word in edgeways. It didn’t last long.

‘It’s no problem. She won’t know what Larezzo is worth, and she’ll jump at whatever I offer. If not, if she’s mad enough to try to keep the place, I’ll simply drive her to the wall, then buy her out for peanuts. Yes, that’s fighting dirty. So what? It’s the way to get results, and this is one result I’m determined to get. I’ll call you later.’

Helena moved away quickly, hurrying down the stairs to rejoin the party. Now she was seething.

She’d been ready to do a reasonable deal, but this man wasn’t reasonable. He wasn’t even civilised. And his behaviour was beyond bearing.