“I understand,” Ben says. “That’s how I felt when I was studying art in Florence. Being immersed in it, surrounded by so much knowledge and expertise and trying to take some small part of that for yourself, to improve, to do better… It’s a powerful thing.”

I look at him in surprise. He does understand. At least, more than anyone else ever has.

“So why don’t you go and study?” Ben asks. “At university, I mean?”

“My family would never approve.” I twist my fingers together.

“You don’t strike me as someone who seeks approval,” Ben says dryly.

I shake my head. I could never explain to him what it’s like at home. “We couldn’t afford it anyway,” I say instead. “University is expensive, and any money my parents have goes straight into the estate.”

“What about a scholarship?” Ben presses.

“A scholarship?”

“Yes,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “You’re clearly clever enough. I mean, you’re the most intelligent person I know.” He grins. “That head of yours contains so much knowledge I’m surprised it doesn’t weigh you down.”

“It doesn’t feel possible.” Saying the words aloud I realize that they aren’t exactly true any more. What seemed completely impossible in the insular world of Langton Hall doesn’t seem as unlikely here.

“You could make it happen, Bea,” he says with total confidence. He lies back and laces his fingers together behind his head, closing his eyes against the sunshine.

Impulsively, I lean over him and press a quick kiss on his cheek. The sweet, cut-grass smell of his skin is heady, making my limbs tingle, and I find myself thinking that if I could bottle it I might make a fortune. His eyes flicker open.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I just felt like it. Do you think that marks a new stage in our romance? I should probably record that.”

Ben smiles, a slow, sleepy smile. “Oh, I don’t know, Bea.” He reaches up and pulls me towards him. “I feel like kissing you all the time.”

By the time we get back to the villa the sun is starting to go down and I feel loose-limbed, drugged on kisses. Ben holds my hand the whole way back and I can feel myself grinning inanely at nothing in particular. This whole summer romance thing really is quite enjoyable.

When we get to the terrace Klaus is sitting with a drink. He looks up as we approach.

“Bea,” he calls. “Your uncle is back.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” I can’t keep a hollow note from my voice. Uncle Leo being back feels like the end of something and I wonder why.

“He’s not alone,” Klaus murmurs. “He has brought with him an English woman … Lady Frances somebody.” He glances at Ben. “And he has brought Sir Hugh.”