‘Like Marie Antoinette’s play house,’ she said, smiling at the memory of the lush film. ‘I loved that movie.’

‘Very much like that, yes. There’s nothing new under the sun.’

A playful glance. ‘When it comes to sex.’

He smiled. ‘Particularly when it comes to sex. Would you like a menu?’

‘For?’

‘Ah, finally, I have your attention. I have both kinds of menus, Miss Hart. Which would you prefer first?’

‘Need you ask?’

‘I would have said no until recently.’ An infinitesimal lift of his brow.

She leaned over, stretched and licked a path up his throat. ‘Show me this antique bed.’

At Miss Hart’s express order, he tossed the strap of her bag over his shoulder, lifted her onto his lap, opened the door and smoothly exited the car.

‘You’re strong,’ she murmured, her arms around his neck as he crossed the cobblestone drive. ‘All that virility and power. I like that.’

‘You’re soft and delicate,’ he said, smiling. ‘The perfect match.’ Nudging the unlatched door open with his foot, he stepped into a scented foyer, perfumed by an enormous vase of white lilies set on a black lacquer table.

Light from an open courtyard illuminated the space, the illusion of some mythical Xanadu stunning. ‘It’s like a storybook house,’ Kate whispered, the interior the equivalent of every romanticized Chinese palace she’d ever seen in books or movies. The furniture was colourful, including some in a bizarre interpretation of European rococo, the carpets were muted, the walls embellished with gilded panels hung with silk scroll landscape paintings and the occasional gold-framed weeping face of Jesus.

‘The decorator was faithful to the original owner’s eccentric tastes. She found some old diaries. He wanted a hide-away. I couldn’t agree more.’

‘I’m not going to ask why.’

‘It’s not necessarily about anything disreputable.’ Although there were times. ‘Mostly, I like the privacy. My life is filled with people wanting things from me. Here, I can be alone.’

‘Oh dear,’ she said in playful despair. ‘I’m intruding.’

He grinned. ‘I might be able to make room in my schedule, Miss Hart. If you ask me nicely.’

‘Would you please fuck me, Mr Knight. I promise not to say a word if you’d prefer.’

He laughed. ‘I must have died and gone to heaven.’

‘Or paradise.’

‘Sounds even better, Miss Hart. Let me take you there.’

He carried her through two of the jewel-like rooms filled with precious objects and came to a stop at a closed door. ‘Shut your eyes,’ he said softly.

The blue flame in his gaze, the deep resonance of his voice, set her heart racing. She took a small breath, shut her eyes and as Dominic moved into the room, she inhaled a cloud of sweet fragrance.

She heard him suck in his breath and opened her eyes.

‘I think Leo did this for you.’ His voice was amused. ‘He must have cleaned out every flower shop in the city.’

‘But to very nice effect. We’ll have to thank him. Fucking in this room will definitely go into my book of memories.’ The bedroom had been transformed into a magnificent flowery bower, the profusion of blossoms entirely white, enchanting backdrop to the brilliant colour in the room. Had a decorator helped Leo with the flowers? Kate wondered. How many more people knew of her sexual holiday with Dominic Knight?

‘It’s a little over the top, but Leo meant well.’

‘It was sweet of him, really.’

‘What do you think of the bed?’

The four-poster bed on the ornamental platform was huge: scarlet lacquer, resplendently filigreed, hung with sheer, metallic gold tissue silk tied back with red braided and tasselled cords. The bedspread was a brilliant emerald green silk, embroidered with red dragons, white peonies and humming birds.

‘The decorator recreated a watercolour sketch of Mr Mendosa’s bedroom from 1799.’

‘It’s dazzling – like a beautiful stage set. I’m not sure I dare lie on that embroidered quilt. A team of seamstresses must have worked a year on it.’

‘Close. Eight months. But everything’s usable.’ He dropped her on her feet, tossed her bag on a chair and waved towards the bed. ‘Please, make yourself comfortable.’

‘I’d love to text a picture to Nana,’ Kate said, moving toward the outrageously theatrical bed. ‘But she’d ask questions.’

‘I agree, it wouldn’t be wise. You don’t want to be personally linked with me.’ He smiled. ‘In terms of your reputation. Other than that, I’m interested in any and all personal links with you.’

She smiled back. ‘I have noticed.’

‘Good, because I’ve been doing my best to keep you interested,’ he drawled. ‘Careful with those stairs.’ He indicated a three-step platform in mother-of-pearl offering access to the bed. ‘I’ll be right with you.’ Turning away, he disposed of his robe in two economical movements – untying it and shrugging it off his shoulders. He walked a few steps to a long, low dresser with two banks of drawers, embossed brass fittings decorating the corners. Pulling several drawers open, he surveyed the contents, then returning to one of the drawers he lifted out a white lace bra with a front closing and blue ribbons woven through the laced-trimmed cups.