She’d guessed he was in his early thirties, but in this light she changed the estimate to late thirties. There was experience in his face, both good and bad.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

‘I was wondering what part of the other world you might have come from.’

‘No doubt about it, the seventh terrace of purgatory,’ he said, one eyebrow cocked to see if she understood.

She did. The seventh terrace was reserved for those who had over-indulged in the more pleasurable sins.

‘That’s just what I thought,’ she murmured. ‘But I didn’t want to suggest it in case you were offended.’

His wry smile informed her that this was the last accusation that would ever offend him.

For a few minutes they sipped champagne in silence. Then he remarked, ‘You’ll be staying with us, of course?’

‘As Hope says, I don’t have any choice, for a few days at least.’

‘Longer, much longer,’ he said at once. ‘Italian bureaucracy takes its time, but we’ll try to make your stay a pleasant one.’

His meaning was unmistakeable. Well, why not? she thought. She was in the mood for a flirtation with a man who would take it as lightly as herself. He was attractive, interesting and they both knew the score.

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said. ‘Actually, Hope wants me to talk to her about England, and it’s the least I can do for her.’

‘Yes, she must feel a bit submerged by Italians,’ Dante said. ‘Mind you, she’s always been one of us, and the whole family loves her. My parents died when I was fifteen, and she’s been like a second mother to me ever since.’

‘Do you live here?’

‘No, I’m based in Milan, but I came south with them because I think there are business opportunities in the Naples area. So after looking around I might decide to stay.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I deal in property, specialising in unusual places, old houses that are difficult to sell.’