I was ready with the story Aidan and I had rehearsed. “Oh no, not at all! Er … thank you very much, but I am training to be a teacher of languages.”

He still did not release my hand. “So your loveliness will be visible only to your students?”

I said nothing, but lowered my eyes modestly. When I looked up again I was just in time to see Stefano and Aidan exchange a “what can you do?” look. My pretence of being a bluestocking when I was dressed, made up and bejewelled like a screen siren was laughable enough, but Stefano’s lasciviousness was even more absurd. “I must get you a drink,” he was saying, rubbing my fingers between his own. He barked in Italian at a uniformed manservant, who hurried away. “Paulo will bring some of my father’s special champagne,” continued Stefano. “Only the best for my dear friend and his lovely cousin!”

“Gio is very generous,” said Aidan politely.

Stefano continued to study me. “Why have I not met you before? I have known Aidan since we were boys.”

Again, we were ready with our story. “Sarah and her family have been living in Canada for some years,” explained Aidan. He had assured me Stefano would not be able to tell a Welsh accent from a Canadian one, and the place where I had ostensibly lived had to be far enough away for Aidan’s cousin never to have turned up at a school event. “They have only been back six months.”

“And what is the signorina doing in Castiglioncello?” Stefano asked, still caressing my hand.

“Learning Italian, and keeping house for Aidan,” I replied.

Stefano’s gaze travelled lazily to Aidan. “Keeping house? So that is what they’re calling it these days, is it?”

“Stefano!” chided Aidan. “Sarah is my cousin, remember. And she’s very young. This is her first trip away from her parents.”

Stefano’s dark eyes were still fixed on me. I could not look at Aidan, but his words had hinted that he expected me to put the next stage of our plan into action. “I may be young,” I said to Stefano, hoping my expression was as innocent as I intended, “but Aidan is so old-fashioned, he treats me as if I were a child. You are not old-fashioned, are you, Stef?”

His face relaxed, though he did not quite smile, and he looked down at me benevolently. “That depends on what you mean by old-fashioned. I suppose I am old-fashioned in that I believe an exquisite little thing like you should be with a man who appreciates her.” The expression in his eyes intensified, and he lowered his face towards mine. “It must be lonely for you when Aidan is working. Will you allow me to show you our little town of Castiglioncello? And perhaps we could have a drive to the countryside?”

“That would be lovely,” I said appreciatively. “You are very kind.”

He turned to Aidan. “You do not object to that, do you?”

“Not at all,” replied Aidan lightly. “I would rather Sarah were with you than some stranger.”

Stefano smiled widely and bowed, and at that moment Paulo arrived with the champagne. When we had taken sips and made approving noises, Aidan again took up the conversation. “Oh, Stef,” he said, as if it had just occurred to him, “there’s someone I’d love to introduce to Sarah, and I think he’s one of Gio’s set. Do you know if David Penn is here?”