‘Bel, I can assure you, I have only just begun.’

She buried her head back into his shoulder. ‘What can we do? What can be done?’

There was a pause before Laurent said, ‘Don’t go back to Brazil, Izabela. Stay in Paris with me.’

Bel drew in her breath, hardly believing the words she was hearing.

‘Listen,’ he said as he took her by the hand and dragged her over to the bench before sitting down next to her. ‘You know I can offer you nothing compared to what your rich fiancé can give you. I have only an attic room in Montparnasse, which is like ice in the winter and a furnace in the summer. And only these hands with which to change my circumstances. But I swear I could love you, Izabela, like no other man could.’

Bel, nestled against him, listened to his words as if they were drops of water pouring into her parched mouth. As she sat there with his arm around her, she glimpsed a future with him for the first time . . . and it was so tantalisingly perfect that, despite all he’d said, she knew she must blank out the image from her mind.

‘Laurent, you know that I cannot. It would destroy my parents; my marriage to Gustavo is the pinnacle of my father’s dreams, what he has spent his life working towards. How could I do this to him, and to my sweet mother?’

‘I understand that you can’t, but I need you to understand before you leave how much I want you too.’

‘I’m not like you.’ Bel shook her head. ‘Perhaps it’s because our worlds are so different, or more simply that you are a man and I am a woman. But in my country, family means everything.’

‘I respect that,’ he said. ‘Although it seems to me there is a point at which a person must stop thinking of others and think of themselves. Marrying a man you don’t love and being thrown into a life you don’t desire – in essence, sacrificing your own happiness – seems to me a step too far, even for the most devoted daughter.’

‘I have no choice,’ Bel replied despairingly.

‘I understand why you think that, but as you know, every human being has free will; it’s what differentiates us from the animals. And’ – Laurent paused as he thought about his next sentence – ‘what about your fiancé? You’ve told me he’s in love with you?’

‘Yes, I believe he is.’

‘So how will he cope with being married to a woman who can never have the same feelings for him? Will your indifference, the fact that he is aware that you’re marrying him out of duty, eventually eat into his soul?’

‘My mother says I will grow to love him, and I have to believe her.’

‘Well then.’ Laurent’s arm dropped from around her shoulder. ‘I must wish you luck and a happy life. I think we’re finished here.’ He stood up abruptly and moved away from her back into the main space of the atelier.