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‘You’re right,’ she sighed, ‘it doesn’t. But actually I love to cook. Or used to, until all this came down.’ She raised her hand, then let it drop in her lap.

‘And where was that?’ he asked curious about this girl who jogged his memory.

‘Oh, back in Hetherington. That’s the village where my mother lives. I do quite a lot of baking too.’

‘Where is this village?’ he asked, picking up his fork once more.

‘In England—Sussex. It’s very pretty—cottages with thatched roofs and no lighting on the streets at night. We live in a manor house just outside.’

‘It sounds wonderfully quaint. I can understand why you would want to return there.’

‘Can you? I thought people like you were trying to transform their countries into havens for the rich and glitzy.’

‘Really? Is that what you’ve heard?’ She caught the edge to his voice.

‘My agent has some idea that I ought to move to a principality called Malvarina. Apparently they have very attractive tax laws. Maybe you’ve heard of it?’ she responded.

‘Actually, I know it quite well. What have you heard about Malvarina?’ He arched a brow thoughtfully.

‘That it’s another Monte Carlo—filled with rich tycoons flitting about on glitzy yachts. I suppose the local potentate is luring them in by the dozen. Personally I think it’s criminal to spoil somewhere which up until now seems to have been preserved from an invasion by the outside world just for the sake of money. It sounds a bit like a theme park to me.’

‘You don’t say?’ He raised an amused, quizzical brow and leaned back in his gilt dining chair, the better to observe her. Quite the little spitfire, Miss Woodward, if her conversation up until now was anything to go by. ‘Let me get this right. You think that the Prince of Malvarina is some sort of exotic dictator, making a theme park out of what was once a beautiful, unspoiled Mediterranean retreat?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Maybe you should go and take a look at it yourself before forming such a cast-iron opinion. You never know. You might be agreeably surprised.’

‘I suppose you could be right about that, but I doubt it,’ she confided. ‘I heard the Prince himself is here, flogging the place. That doesn’t bode well, does it?’

‘Definitely a bad sign,’ he agreed.

‘In fact, I was meant to be sitting next to him tonight. They must have changed the seating.’

‘Really?’ His laughing dark eyes met hers full on.

All at once Victoria’s stomach lurched. ‘Uh-oh,’ she murmured, turning bright red as she leaned forward and peered beyond his plate at the name card. Her worst expectations were fulfilled. Sitting back, she took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m dreadfully sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. If I’d known it was you I never would have—Oh, dear, how embarrassing.’

‘Signorina,’ he said, slipping his hand over hers, ‘please don’t be upset. I assure you there is no need to be distressed. I’ve never been described as a potentate before, but it has a certain ring to it. I must remember to tell my PR people to slip it into the next brochure we do for Malvarina. In fact, the only bit I objected to was your certainty that I am trying to create a theme park.’

His hand was still laid over hers, warm and reassuring, and Victoria felt a delicious shiver run up her arm. She looked up at him. Their eyes met and she smiled apologetically. ‘I’m always putting my foot in it. I’m truly sorry.’

He gave her fingers a light squeeze. ‘The only way I shall forgive you is if you personally visit Malvarina and allow me to dispel what I truly believe to be your false image of the island. I certainly intend for it to be very different from what you describe.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, drawing her hand away. ‘I suppose I should be fair and give the place a chance before judging it so arbitrarily. I’m sure it’s lovely. I just don’t want to move anywhere.’

‘I understand. But if you have to move, Malvarina may not be such a bad spot as you think. But then I’m prejudiced.’

AN HOUR LATER, VICTORIA was surprised at how quickly the dinner had gone by. Before she knew it, the guests were being ushered into the ballroom where an orchestra was striking up. The Prince was still at her side, and Victoria realised that she was far more at ease in his presence than she had been while meeting Hollywood moguls and stars. There was something easy and natural about him. Amazingly, he felt like the only real person she’d met here.

‘Would you like to dance?’ Rodolfo smiled down into her eyes, and for a moment Victoria’s pulse missed a beat. There was something very charming about this handsome man, she acknowledged.

She accepted the offer and accompanied him onto the floor. As his arms encircled her she felt a thrill course up her spine. She told herself to stop it immediately. He was just being polite, just trying to get people to go and live on his island—that was why he was being so nice to her. She must not lose sight of that. But it was hard not to feel light-headed as they twirled about the room and the musky scent of his aftershave reached her.

She could see Anne watching approvingly from the sidelines and groaned inwardly. She could imagine all the directives the woman would be giving her shortly. As the music subsided and they walked off the dance floor a flash went off in their faces and Victoria cringed involuntarily. At the same moment Rodolfo’s arm slipped protectively about her and she felt herself being guided quickly out of the ballroom and through the French doors that led onto the terrace.

‘Damn photographers,’ he exclaimed as they stepped outside. ‘They never give one any peace.’

‘No, they don’t,’ she murmured, shuddering.

‘I would have thought you would be used to that by now? Don’t all movie stars crave the limelight?’ He regarded her critically from under dark brows.

‘Not me,’ she replied with a half-smile, crossing her arms and staring out across the Croisette and the twinkling lights of the yachts beyond.

‘Victoria?’ Anne’s voice at the French window made her turn around. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ she said apologetically, smiling at the Prince, ‘but that top Paris magazine I told you about wants to interview you.’

‘Now?’ Victoria grimaced.

‘Right away, I’m afraid. It was the only available time.’ Anne flashed a quick smile at Rodolfo.

‘Okay. I guess I don’t have a choice. Goodnight,’ Victoria said, stretching her hand out towards the Prince.

‘Goodnight.’ He raised her fingers to his lips. ‘And, please, don’t forget your promise.’ Their eyes met, his full of laughter and challenge, hers tentative.

‘Right,’ Victoria mumbled, aware of Anne’s interested eyes upon her.

Seconds later the actress and the agent were hurrying down the corridor back to Victoria’s suite for the interview.

‘What was that all about?’ Anne enquired. ‘What did you promise? I hope it wasn’t a press interview, because I gave exclusive rights to the Parisian Magazine. You can’t negotiate these things on your own, you know, and—’

‘Oh, do stop it, Anne. Don’t you ever think of anything but business?’ Victoria complained, exasperated. ‘He only asked me to get in touch with him if I ever went to that wretched island of his. And, since you’re so keen for me to move there, I should have thought you’d be pleased.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ Anne muttered, taken aback. The Prince wanted to see Vic again. That could be great PR. Better not discourage her. On the contrary, the more she thought about it the more the idea appealed. By the time they’d reached the suite door she was forming a plan. ‘Right, you go ahead, and I’ll tell them you’re ready.’

‘Just a sec,’ Victoria said, feeling the capsule in her pocket. ‘I need to go to the loo.’

‘Okay, but don’t be long. They’re waiting, and we’re running late.’

Feeling like a prisoner, Victoria slipped into the marble bathroom. It was empty, and she leaned a moment against the sink and took a deep breath. How long would all this socialising go on? Why couldn’t she just get on with the next film instead of having to go through all this agony?

But there was no way out.

Taking out the pill, she popped it in her mouth and drank a glass of water, then closed her eyes and waited for it to take effect. Ah! There. A minute or two later she raised her head, dragged her fingers through her hair, checked her lipgloss and braced herself. It was show-time once more. Still, as she stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the salon where the interview was to take place, a vision of the Prince flashed before her. She’d felt strangely reassured in his company.

AFTER VICTORIA HAD DEPARTED, Rodolfo stood for a few more minutes on the terrace, contemplating the night. In the background he heard the buzz of the party, the music, the laughter, the exaggerated exclamations and the smooth conversation. He had no desire to return inside. Something about Victoria had left him thoughtful, intrigued. Not just her ethereal beauty, which was without a doubt staggering, but the natural way in which she responded. There was no artifice in her manner, no guile. It was deliciously refreshing.

He must make a point of seeing her movie. Was she as good as was being made out? Perhaps. There was definitely something special about her. He thought of her now, upstairs, answering a battery of questions from journalists, and wished he could have helped prevent it, detained her longer.

Then, all at once, he caught his breath as finally his memory jolted and he remembered who she reminded him of. How could he have forgotten or even hesitated? How had he not caught the likeness at once?

As Giada’s face materialised before him he closed his eyes. When would it ever fade? Seven years had passed, and he’d had so many women since. But Giada’s image and all she’d represented in his life remained firmly imprinted in his mind. And tonight, for the first time, he’d met someone who reminded him of her as never before.

Banishing the memory and turning on his heel, the Prince quickly reminded himself why he was there and returned to the ballroom, where he was immediately accosted by a fat lady who glittered with jewels and who owned a huge fortune in oil. She was interested in learning more about Malvarina.

Rodolfo replied politely, but recalled Victoria’s words. Was he turning the principality into a theme park for the nouveau riche? He had wanted to preserve it as naturally and beautifully as possible. He needed to think about this initiative further.

After being buttonholed for twenty minutes he managed to make his escape and make his way upstairs. For a moment he hesitated, thought of phoning Victoria and seeing if she would like to have a drink with him. Then, realising she was probably exhausted, with a gruelling day ahead of her tomorrow, he decided against it and went to his suite.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE’D WON. BEST ACTRESS.

As she stood on the stage the following evening, receiving the trophy, Victoria was overwhelmed. She had made it, was being given one of the most prestigious prizes in film. Everyone was clapping, encouraging her, and tonight she felt good. This was recognition of her acting skills, not her beauty or her charisma, just her work. And for that she was grateful.

After a short speech she sat down next to Ed, who hugged her, while Anne glowed with pride on her other side. She knew she owed them a lot—everything, in a way. Had it not been for them, their patience and knowing how to get the best out of her as an actress, this would never have happened. But there was still all the press to face—more interviews, more emotion, another exhausting evening of being on show. And tonight she’d left her pills behind in the bathroom, hadn’t slipped one into her pocket as she normally did.

Never mind, she assured herself. Tonight was different. She would make it through the evening without mishap.

As they filed out of the theatre where the award ceremony was taking place, Victoria caught sight of Rodolfo in the distance. Across the crowd their eyes met and he smiled. For a moment she wished she could go to him, spend the rest of the evening in some quiet spot chatting. All at once she remembered his mention that he liked to cook. A vision of him tossing pasta in the kitchen of his own castle surfaced and made her want to laugh. But as she smiled back at him a flash went off in her face, reminding her of exactly where she was.

SHE CERTAINLY HAD tremendous talent, Rodolfo realised, watching Victoria move through the hall surrounded by paparazzi and moguls. He had seen her movie earlier that day and had come out impressed. There was something magical in her performance, something that reminded him of a young Audrey Hepburn in the way she floated across the screen—an ethereal quality coupled with a shining talent. Yet there was a vital and deeply emotional side to her that became apparent in her performance, and that had gripped him, stirred something deep within.

He glanced at his watch. The party would go on for a while yet. He was planning to leave tomorrow and return to Malvarina, but something made him hesitate. Perhaps he would wait and see if an opportunity to lunch with Victoria presented itself. He would really like to see her again before he departed.

SHE KNEW THAT if she was going to make it through the rest of the evening she simply had to disappear upstairs and take another capsule. She seemed to have increased the amount over the last few days. But that was okay. It was just for now. When she got home she would stop taking them completely. She glanced about her. She had to go, even if that meant displeasing Anne and the others.

Slipping away unseen, she dashed to the lift and rode it up to her floor. Then she hastened down the corridor and inserted the key in the lock of her suite. To her amazement the door was open. Had one of the hotel staff been in her room? She shrugged, threw her evening purse on the sofa and headed for the bathroom. The meds were where she’d left them, on the shelf in the bathroom cupboard in a little brown pharmaceutical plastic vial. Reaching thankfully for the bottle, she tipped one out.

She was holding it in her hand when suddenly a figure jumped from behind the curtains. A flash went off, then another, and another. Victoria stood in silent mesmerised horror, like a rabbit caught in headlights, unable to react. It took several minutes for her to take stock of the situation, for the full reality of it to grip her. She had seen the woman quite clearly—a photographer who had dressed up as one of the hotel maids and invaded her privacy.

She’d been caught in the act.

What was she to do? In panic she rushed to the phone and got Reception to page Anne. Minutes later she was pouring out the truth to her agent in person.

‘How could you, Vic? Why didn’t you tell me? It’s all gonna hit the fan.’

‘Can’t you do anything? Try and stop it? Not that there is any harm in me taking these pills—I mean they must be all right since the doctor gave them to me.’

‘Oh, Victoria. Are you really that innocent? Goodness only knows what your Dr Browne has put in this cocktail.’

‘But how did anyone know that I was taking anything at all?’

‘I don’t know. These paparazzi nose out everything. Maybe you were seen visiting the doctor’s office and that tipped one of them off. We’ll never know.’

‘Can’t you stop them publishing the pictures?’

‘I don’t know. This is France, not the US. They have different laws. I’ll have to tell Ed. He’ll be furious, and it’ll be my ass on the line. Oh, Vic. Why did you do it, for heaven’s sake? And if you were going to, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you out.’ Anne paced the room agitatedly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria whispered, slouched on the sofa, her head thrown back against the velvet cushions. Right now she couldn’t think, couldn’t register. Had she mucked up her career? Was this the end? What had she done?

Next morning the answer came loud and clear, as Anne slapped the French newspapers down on the table.

‘Just look at what you’ve achieved,’ she threw. ‘Front-page headlines! Bravo! “Best Actress High On Drugs.” All the details of how you frequented the offices of that sleazy doctor in L.A. They’ve dug up the whole damn story. Wonderful. Ed is so mad, I can’t begin to tell you. He’s talking about dropping you from his next movie. And if you thought the press were on top of you before, babe, you ain’t seen nothing yet. They’re swarming all over the goddamn lobby. I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of here.’

‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry, okay? What else do you expect me to do? I can’t make it un-happen.’ Victoria placed her cup back in the saucer with a snap, all desire for coffee disappearing.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t know,’ Anne said, dragging her fingers through her short spiky hair. ‘But we’ll have to come up with something mighty quick if we’re gonna scotch this thing. Nip it in the bud. That’s the only way. Maybe putting you into rehab is the answer…’ She shook her head and kept on muttering.

‘I am not a drug addict,’ Victoria protested, ‘I just took a few pills to help me through all this hype. I never would have touched them otherwise. I didn’t even know they were drugs in the real sense of the word.’

‘Well, guess what? It’s too late for that now. We’ll just have to see how to repair the damage and hope it isn’t too late.’

Victoria got up and left the room, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

She could bear it no longer.

RODOLFO SAW THE HEADLINES at breakfast and, putting down his glass of orange juice, read them, horrified. Was it possible? He read the details, then stared, eyes narrowed, at the picture of Victoria, one hand in mid-air, a bottle of pills in the other, her face a mask of terrified horror.

He experienced a rush of anger. At Victoria for indulging in this deplorable habit. At those around her who hadn’t given her a break and had probably driven her to it. And at the photographers who had hounded her night and day, giving her no privacy. It was scandalous.

Rodolfo rose and paced the salon of his suite, agitated. He knew he must do something for the girl—must help her if he could. Who knew what kind of a time Ed Banes and the others were giving her? Not that that was an excuse for her behaviour, he realised. But still…

Picking up his mobile, he dialled his assistant and told him to find out the number of Victoria’s suite. Minutes later the man called back to tell him she wasn’t taking any calls. He wasn’t surprised. Minutes later, as he entered the lobby, he got a good idea why. The place was abuzz with reporters, vultures agog with curiosity, avid to get a glimpse of their prey. Rodolfo watched them, disgusted. He was certain Victoria was hiding up in her suite.

Suddenly he took a decision. Heading up the stairs, he went to Ed Banes’s suite and knocked. A bodyguard answered.

‘Tell Mr Banes, His Majesty Prince Rodolfo of Malvarina wants to speak to him,’ he announced haughtily.

‘He can’t see you right now,’ the burly shaven-headed man answered in a Southern drawl.

‘He will. Tell him I’m here to help out Victoria.’

The man shrugged and continued chewing gum. ‘Okay. Wait here, sir.’

Rodolfo stepped inside. He could hear raised voices beyond the closed door. His determination to remove her from this place and these people’s company increased tenfold.

When the door opened and Ed Banes appeared he seemed choleric. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and he looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a while.

‘Hi,’ he said curtly. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Actually, it’s what I can do for you,’ Rodolfo replied coldly. ‘I came here to see how I can help you in this tricky situation Victoria’s got herself entangled in,’ he said calmly.

‘Nothing you can do, I’m afraid. The kid’s blown it. Come on in. Might as well, since you’re here.’ He showed Rodolfo into the salon, where Anne was pacing the floor and two other women stood by the window busily talking on cellphones. ‘Trying to do some damage control,’ he said, jerking his head at the two. ‘What a stupid little fool. I can’t believe she didn’t even tell Anne what she was taking. We could’ve kept it all under wraps, gotten her the stuff ourselves, dealt with business.’

Rodolfo sent the man a withering glance.

‘Personally, I think Victoria’s health should be of primary concern,’ he replied coldly. ‘What I propose is that you create a diversion in the lobby—give a press conference or something. In the meantime I’ll spirit her out the back way. Nobody is going to imagine that she would be with me. Perhaps you could provide a disguise?’ he added, turning to Anne. ‘I shall take her on my private jet to Malvarina, where I can assure you she will be looked after. And not badgered by any members of the press, or given any more drugs,’ he added curtly.

Ed hesitated, rubbed his bald head and turned to Anne. ‘What d’ya think?’ he growled.

‘I think it’s a great idea. We were thinking of rehab, but this is a better option. What time do you want to do this, uh, Prince?’

‘Right away,’ Rodolfo snapped, taking the decision. ‘The sooner we get her out of here, the better.’

‘Hey, wait,’ Ed said, eyeing him curiously. ‘What happens if the press get hold of your ass?’

‘I am very well able to cope, Mr Banes. Right now I would advise you to concern yourself with Victoria and containing this awkward set of circumstances. I’m well able to take care of myself—and Victoria, too, for that matter.’

‘Fine by me.’ Ed shrugged and flopped into an oversized armchair. ‘Let’s get through this and move on. I have a movie starting in six weeks’ time. The kid’s under contract. I need her. But I can’t have this kind of crap flying around my set.’

‘Uh, right. Ed, let me deal with this,’ Anne said quickly, taking Rodolfo’s arm and guiding him to the door. ‘I’ll go up to Victoria with you. She’s pretty upset, as you can imagine. This is really nice of you to help out.’

‘Any time,’ Rodolfo murmured, casting a final withering glance at Ed, disgusted at his attitude and his lack of concern for Victoria’s wellbeing. Only dollars and cents seemed to count for Ed Banes.

Slipping into a service lift, Anne and Rodolfo managed to slip into the suite unnoticed.

‘Vic, there’s someone here to see you,’ Anne said, opening the door of the salon, where Victoria sat huddled in the corner of the large sofa, her feet tucked under her.

She looked like a waif, wearing jeans and a tiny white T-shirt, her hair falling straight over her shoulders and her eyes red from crying. Rodolfo’s words of censure died on his lips. There was a reason why she’d resorted to pills to help her through all this. For a moment he wanted to reach out, take her in his arms and offer comfort. But he knew that was impossible. Instead he looked at her hard.

‘I’m very sorry that you are having problems, signorina,’ he said curtly, stepping towards her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Victoria said in a shaky voice. ‘Why did you come? To criticise me? Well, let me tell you something—’ her voice trembled and she balled her fists ‘—I don’t care if it was wrong, and I didn’t know those pills were considered bad. The truth is that at least they helped me get through all those awful interviews and all that hype.’

‘Maybe. That is still no excuse for your behaviour,’ he said, sitting down next to her.

‘And what right do you have to come barging in here, judging me?’ she threw angrily.

‘None,’ he replied, taking one of her hands in his. ‘Except that I realise how hard it has been for you, that you aren’t cut out for this; you aren’t the kind of person who enjoys the sort of publicity you’ve been exposed to. I have come to help you, that’s all.’

His calm, low voice and his caressing hand soothed her. Victoria swallowed. She felt confused by his presence. For a moment she wondered if he’d come with some ulterior motive. Most people around her lately seemed to have one. But his mere presence was so comforting that she just accepted it. ‘What do you think I should do?’ she whispered shakily.

‘If you agree to come back with me to Malvarina for a while, there you can get proper medical assistance, relax, and get away from all this. I think that would be the best. I guarantee complete privacy.’ He squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

‘Ed’ll give a press conference in the lobby, and you and the Prince can escape the back way,’ Anne urged. ‘Here, put on this dark wig and these sunglasses. That should help. And go as you are. You look much younger, and no one will recognise you like that. Anyway, they’ll never think that you and the Prince would be together.’

Victoria took a deep breath and looked from one to the other. It seemed like a good plan, and there really wasn’t any other option. The thought of being able to escape the paparazzi seemed heavenly. She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, smiling waveringly at Rodolfo.

‘It’s nothing.’ He gave a dismissive wave of a hand. ‘Leave your luggage. Anne can have it sent on to you. Take only your handbag and passport.’

Silently Victoria rose and obeyed. She wished for a moment she could take her pills with her. But then she realised that she must put a stop to her habit immediately. It would be hard, but she couldn’t abuse Rodolfo’s trust when he was being so generous and saving her from herself.

Minutes later Rodolfo had grabbed her hand and they were heading down in the service lift to the garage level of the hotel, then slipping through the work stations and kitchens and out into a back street, where a Bentley stood waiting. Hastily they jumped in and the driver accelerated swiftly away.

‘Thanks,’ Victoria muttered, letting out a long sigh of relief as she leaned back in the soft plush leather.

And for the first time in months she felt safe.

TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER she was staring out of the window of Rodolfo’s Gulfstream jet as it circled over the Mediterranean. Down below she could see the contours of Malvarina, its rich vegetation encircled by cerulean blue sea, rocky cliffs giving way to smooth, white, sandy beaches. She could distinguish what looked like large properties up in the hills and down by the water. Then a small town appeared and to the left, up on high overlooking the sea, stood a medieval fortress.

‘That is the Castello Constanza,’ Rodolfo said pointing down. ‘The fortress and the island have belonged to my family since they conquered it in the tenth century. It has been through many wars and difficulties. We fought the Saracens, and the Ottomans. But in the end we prevailed, and today I hope to make Malvarina into a modern, well-run, financially solvent society.’

Victoria looked over at him, surprised at the passion and intensity she detected in his tone. She’d thought of him as a sophisticated playboy, simply trying to extract as much as possible from his inheritance. Yet now she sensed there was far more at stake for Rodolfo than mere money. This was about honour, about the wellbeing of his people. She smiled, glad that she’d taken the decision to flee Cannes and join him here in what looked like an enclave of peace.

Soon they had landed at the island’s small airport and were swooped off in the Rolls Royce that awaited them on the tarmac. The car swerved through the sleepy little town of Malvaritza, and on and up towards the fortress. Peasants with well-loaded donkeys stopped by the roadside and waved. Victoria noted that Rodolfo always returned the waves, smiled and acknowledged them. She had the feeling he would always do this, however tired or absorbed by other worries he might be.

Then the vehicle slowed as they approached the castle and its portcullis entrance that stood just over an ancient bridge. The castle walls stood high, and Victoria experienced a moment’s doubt: what had she got herself into? After all, she had no way of knowing what this man was really like. Once she was inside those walls she would be virtually at his mercy.

As though sensing her unease, Rodolfo turned and smiled at her. ‘A bit daunting, isn’t it? But don’t worry. Inside we have all the mod cons. My grandfather, although quite antiquated in many respects, was determined to have the place modernised. I’m very thankful he did. It was quite a job to get everything shipshape.’

‘I’m sure it must have been,’ Victoria agreed as the car purred into a cobbled courtyard and immediately several members of the Prince’s staff, dressed in traditional costume, moved to open the doors.

‘Welcome to Malvarina and the Castello Constanza,’ Rodolfo said, slipping her hand through his arm and moving forward. ‘Let me show you around.’

‘I’d love to see the castle,’ she said. Though she still felt a little shaky, the dreadful episode of the night before began to fade from her mind as she looked around at her magical surroundings—at the worn stone walls topped with small turrets, the crooked windows and gables.

As they walked, she took a deep breath and exclaimed, ‘What a lovely scent.’

‘That’s jasmine. It blooms most of the year here. We have quite a few tropical plants as well. This is bougainvillea,’ he remarked, pointing to the lovely purple and white flowers creeping up the southern wall of the façade. ‘My mother planted most of it.’

‘Does she live here?’ Victoria enquired, as they headed into what appeared to be a great hall.

‘Both my parents died in an accident when I was twelve,’ he replied briefly, moving towards the window. ‘Please, come over here and take a look at the view. It is magnificent from this vantage point.’

How sad that he’d been orphaned, Victoria reflected, as she stepped over and joined him by huge French windows that gave onto a vine-trellised terrace overlooking the tranquil sea. A yacht glided across the clear blue stretch of water, leaving a pristine white trail rippling in its wake.