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sense of honour?’ She looked at Ellie, her face like stone. ‘Is my grandson here at your invitation,
signorina?
The truth, if you please.’
    Angelo answered for her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘From first to last, Nonna, it was my own idea.’ He glanced down at the scratches on his chest, his mouth twisting wryly. ‘But clearly, I should have thought again—for several reasons.’
    ‘You are saying you have disgraced our family name—forced yourself on this girl—on a whim?’ The Contessa closed her eyes.
‘Dio mio,
I cannot believe it.’
    It occurred to Ellie that hoping to wake up and find she’d simply been having a nightmare wasn’t working. Neither was praying for death.
    Clutching the sheet so tightly that her knuckles turned white, she said huskily, ‘Contessa—Godmother—I know how this must look but—really—nothing happened.’
    ‘I presume because he was interrupted.’ The Principessa’s voice was colder than her god-daughter had ever heard it, as she looked pointedly at Ellie’s nightgown lying on the floor beside the bed.
    No, Ellie thought painfully. Because he discovered he was in the wrong room, with the wrong woman.
    Thought it, but realised she couldn’t say it because it would only make matters a thousand times worse.
    Angelo indicated his own clothing. He said coolly, ‘Perhaps, before anything more is said, I might be permitted to dress myself.’
    ‘Tra un momento.
My god-daughter’s needs come first.’ The Principessa took Ellie’s robe from the chair and advanced to the bed. ‘Put this on, my child, then come with us to the
salotto.’
She added, ‘You will have the goodness to join us there, Count Manzini, when you are ready.’
    Back turned to him, and seated on the edge of the bed, Ellie huddled awkwardly into the robe and fastened its sash, her fingers all thumbs. She was suddenly aware that she was trembling, and on the verge of tears.
    It’s all so ridiculous, she thought, like some dreadful bedroom farce. Except that on this occasion there can be no last act explanations to make everything right again. Because they would have to involve Silvia, and that can’t happen.
    As she followed the two older women downstairs, her mind went into a kind of overdrive as she struggled to make sense of what had happened.
    It went without saying that Angelo Manzini had expected to find her cousin waiting for him, but Silvia’s room was at the other end of the villa, so what could possibly have made him think she was sleeping in the tower?
    And what was all this about an intruder in the grounds? Who had seen him?
    Every question she asked herself seemed to throw up another, and she didn’t like any of the answers that were suggesting themselves to her.
    Giovanni was just leaving the
salotto
as they arrived. His face might be expressionless, but he radiated disapproval just the same and Ellie, who’d known him all her life, found herself avoiding his glance.
    He’d lit the lamps and brought a tray of coffee to the room, and the Principessa poured a measure of brandy into a glass and brought it to Ellie.
    ‘I have instructed Giovanni to have another room prepared for you,’ she said. ‘You will not wish to return to the tower.’
    No, thought Ellie, with a swift pang. Never again for as long as I live.
    Any stupid fairy tale dreams I still had finally crashed and burned tonight.
    Aloud, she said, ‘Thank you,’ and swallowed some of the brandy, feeling its warmth pervade the chill inside her. ‘But I swear to you—both of you—that nothing happened.’
    ‘You regard my grandson’s shameful conduct—this outrage to your godmother’s hospitality as nothing?’ The Contessa’s question was icy. ‘Are you saying,
signorina,
that you are accustomed to share your bed with strangers? That this unforgivable insult should be—laughed off in some way? Treated as one of the aberrations of modern life? If so, I doubt if Prince Damiano will agree with you.’
    Ellie flushed again.