"You must pardon my confusion," I said, shaking my head. "Who is Kallista?"

Mr. Hargreaves smiled. "I believe that is what he called you in"-again the pause-"private."

My eyebrows lifted in amazement. "He never called me Kallista." I didn't mention that the form of address he used most frequently was, in fact, Lady Ashton, albeit in a somewhat ironic tone.

"It is how he always referred to you," Mr. Hargreaves said quietly. "I assumed it was a pet name. Excuse my impertinence, but I believe he preferred it to Emily."

"I see. And the villa?"

"It's on Santorini, one of the islands in the Aegean. I suggest you go in the spring, when the weather is fine, although Ashton always considered winter there a vast improvement over England." He stood up and walked toward me. "I must apologize again. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you to be reminded of him. Using his familiar name for you was thoughtless of me."

"On the contrary, it doesn't bother me at all," I said, still not sure what to make of this habit of my husband's. "For all I care, you may call me Kallista if you prefer it to Emily." I looked directly at Mr. Hargreaves and smiled. He was quite handsome, his dark, wavy hair tousled, contrasting with the perfect elegance of both his clothing and manner. "That is, of course, should our acquaintance become familiar enough to merit the use of Christian names."

"You are as spirited as Ashton described you," he said, flashing a smile. "I shall leave now. Your solicitor has all the papers concerning the villa. As I said, I promised your husband I would ensure that you see it. When you are ready to make the trip, I shall take care of all your arrangements."

I gave him my hand, which he kissed quickly. I watched from the window seat as he sauntered down the steps to the street and across Berkeley Square.

As always after meeting any of Philip's family or friends, I felt overwhelmed.