and had to dash. I was too nervous to eat at the airport, or on the plane. The storm was just getting really bad as we landed. I got so scared that I sat in the airport for an hour.’
‘Don’t you have a hotel? I know it can be hard to find one at this time of year. A lot of them close.’
‘Oh, no, I came straight here.’
‘To the Palazzo Bagnelli? Why?’
‘I thought Gino might be here.’
‘Gino Falzi?’
She brightened. ‘You do know him?’
‘Yes, I know him well, but—’
‘Does he still live here? Is he here now?’
‘No,’ he said slowly.
Pietro was getting warning signals that filled him with apprehension.
Gino’s mother had once been the Bagnelli family’s cook, living on the premises with her son. The lads had grown up good friends despite the six years between them. Gino was light-hearted, delightful company, and Pietro, the elder and more serious-minded, had found in him a much-needed release.
‘You should laugh more,’ Gino often chided him. ‘Come on, have some fun.’
And Pietro had laughed, following his scape-grace friend into his latest mad adventure, from which he usually had to extract him. Gino had a butterfly mind, which made it hard for him to settle to steady employment, although he had finally found a niche in the tourist firm that Pietro owned, where his charm made him a knockout with the customers.
It also made him a risk-taker, walking a fine line between acceptable behaviour and going a bit too far. Pietro knew that Gino loved to impress the girls by pretending that he came from the aristocratic Bagnelli family, and although he disapproved it also made him shrug wryly. It was just Gino amusing himself.
Now he was beginning to worry that Gino had amused himself in a way that might bring tragedy.
‘Can you tell me where he is?’ she asked.
‘He’s off travelling at the moment. He works for me in a tourist firm I own, and he’s exploring new places.’
‘But he’ll be home soon?’ she asked with a hint of eagerness that both touched and worried him.
‘No, he’s on a long trip, finding places where I can mount tours.’
‘I see,’ she said with a little sigh.
Pietro asked his next question carefully.
‘Does Gino know you well?’
At first he thought she hadn’t heard, so long did she take to reply. Then she shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘He won’t know me. Nobody knows me any more. I don’t know myself, or anybody else. I know who I was then—’
‘Then?’ he queried gently. ‘When was that?’
‘About a year ago—or perhaps a little more. I’ve got the date written down somewhere—’ She saw his troubled face and gave a half smile that was oddly charming. ‘I sound quite mad, don’t I?’
‘I don’t think you’re mad at all,’ he said firmly.
‘You could be wrong about that. I’ve been in a special home for—well, most of the last year. Now I’m trying to find my way back into the world, only I don’t do it very well.’
‘Then it’s lucky you found a safe place, and a friend,’ he said.
‘How can you be my friend when you don’t know who I am? Whoever I was then, I’m someone else now. I just don’t know who.’
‘You must know your name or how could you travel?’
‘My name is Ruth Denver.’
A spoon fell out of Pietro’s hand and hit the terrazzo floor with a ping. Cursing his own clumsiness, he leaned down to pick it up, glad of the chance to hide his face, lest it reveal his shock at hearing the name Ruth Denver.
When he looked up again he was in control and able to say calmly, ‘My name is Pietro Bagnelli.’
‘Gino’s cousin?’ she exclaimed, her eyes suddenly glowing. ‘He told me a lot about you, how you grew up together.’
‘We’ll talk some more in the morning,’ he interrupted her hastily. ‘You’ll be better when you’ve slept.’
He was becoming more disturbed every moment, and needed to be alone to do some thinking before he talked further. If she was who he was beginning to believe she was, he needed to tread with care.
‘I’ll get a room ready for you,’ he said. Pausing at the door, he added, ‘Don’t go away.’
She regarded him quizzically, and he realised he sounded crazy. Where could she go? But he had a strange feeling that if he took his eyes off her she might vanish into thin air.
‘I promise not to disappear,’ she said with a glimmer of humour that was evident even through her distress.
‘Just to make sure you don’t—Toni, on guard.’
The huge mutt came forward and laid his head on Ruth’s knee.
‘Stay like that, both of you, until I get back,’ Pietro said.
In the next room there was a couch that could be turned into a bed. He made it up, his mind in turmoil. What was happening was impossible. There was no way that this could be Ruth Denver.
He returned to the living room to find that both its occupants had obeyed him. Toni’s head was still on Ruth’s knee, and she was stroking it, regarding the dog with a smile of fond indulgence.
‘Your room’s ready,’ he said. ‘Try to get plenty of sleep. I won’t let anything disturb you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said softly, and slipped away.
As soon as he was alone Pietro poured himself a large brandy. He had never needed one so much.
He felt stunned.
At first he’d thought this might be one of Gino’s discarded girlfriends who hadn’t given up hope. It happened often, but there were reasons why it couldn’t be the answer this time.
As Pietro brooded on those reasons he grew more and more troubled.
Just over a year ago Gino had fallen in love with an English girl, a tourist in Venice. Pietro had been away at the time and when he returned she’d gone back to England, so he’d never met her.
For once Gino had seemed genuinely smitten, to the point of marriage. Pietro’s wedding gift was going to be a grand reception in the palazzo.
‘But I want to meet this paragon,’
