How can he be here? Why has he come?

But of course, Laurent had been with Senhor Levy, so she could only presume he’d been sent by Landowski as his envoy to oversee the Cristo project for him.

Yes, thought Bel, climbing out of the car and walking reluctantly up the front steps, that was it. Laurent’s presence in Rio was nothing more mysterious than that. She made her way straight upstairs to her bedroom, knowing that Gustavo wouldn’t be home from his club for at least a couple of hours and feeling relieved at the prospect.

Lying on the bed, Bel breathed deeply and tried to think rationally. The chances were that she would never set eyes on him here. It was unlikely their paths would cross in Rio, as the engineer Senhor Levy was not part of their social circle and Heitor da Silva Costa was still in Paris. It was simply a cruel twist of fate that she’d seen him today. And with all her heart, as she remembered the sweet smile he’d given her as they’d stared at each other for that split second, she wished she hadn’t.

The following evening, Gustavo arrived home early from his club and told her she was not to enter the drawing room until he gave the word. She could see from his expression that whatever it was he’d bought her as a wedding gift had pleased him. She prepared to show her appreciation for whatever it might be.

‘Your parents are joining us for dinner tonight, as well as another surprise guest, so put on your most beautiful gown,’ her husband suggested.

Laurent too had been moved and unsettled by his glimpse of Izabela standing in the viewing pavilion. The sun had been behind her as he had looked up, which had made her appear almost angelic; her whole being lit up. In the days since he’d heard from Levy of her wedding, the excitement he’d felt when he first arrived in Rio had been tempered with misery. He’d decided the best thing he could do was to view the construction project as soon as possible, so at least he could tell Landowski all was looking well for his sculpture. Then he would also see a little more of the land he’d travelled so far to reach, and afterwards, return home to France. Now he knew for certain Izabela could never be his, there was nothing here for him. He’d berated himself for his impetuous decision to board the ship in the first place. However, he had stayed for the past month, fuelled by the knowledge that at some point Izabela would return to Rio from her honeymoon, and by a blind belief that they would meet by chance.

And then yesterday, Monsieur Levy had told him that Monsieur da Silva Costa had contacted him, asking for Laurent’s telephone number.