“Only thing missing is Rossano Brazzi,” said Driffield.

“Who’s he?” asked Fen.

“He was in Three Coins in the Fountain. Christ, you must be young. Do you think,” he added, looking at his loose change, “an Irish penny would work?”

“No, it’s bad luck,” said Rupert, chucking in a fifty-pence piece. “I expect you’ll sneak back at dusk and fish that out, Driffield.”

Fen threw in a ten-pence piece.

“Please, Fountain,” she prayed, “when I come back, let it be with a really nice man who loves me as much as I love him.”

Opening her eyes, she found Billy beside her. He had also tossed a fifty-pence piece into the fountain, watching it float down, to land on the bronze and silver floor. His lips were moving, his face haggard, his hair even grayer in the sunlight.

He’s wishing he’ll come back to Rome with Janey, thought Fen. Oh poor, poor Billy.

Back at the show in the afternoon, she hadn’t fared any better. And now she’d been packed off to bed at eleven o’clock, with soothing reassurances from Malise that she was not to worry, she’d soon find her feet and to get a good night’s sleep. How could she possibly sleep with all that din and merrymaking in the streets below?

Her mood was not helped by the fact that Sarah and Dizzy had been asked out by two American tennis stars, over for the tournament which ran concurrently with the horse show. Both grooms had come and had used Fen’s room to bath and wash their hair and change, then had gone off in raging spirits looking gorgeous.

Fen went out on the balcony. Here I am in the most beautiful city in the world, she thought, with the spring in its green prime, with the streets and parks filled with lovers kissing, holding hands, necking in traffic jams, lying on the grass. Everywhere she went, gorgeous Italian men, with hot, pansy-dark eyes, followed her, wolf whistling, and pinching her bottom, but Rupert and Billy and Malise chaperoned her so fiercely she wasn’t allowed near them. Only that evening at a drinks’ party she’d been chatted up by a fantastic-looking French tennis player, who was just asking her out to dinner when Rupert came up and told him to piss off.

“What’s that you say?” asked the Frenchman.

So Rupert told him in French, even more forcibly, and the Frenchman had gone very white and backed off. That was another thing. Rupert had made terrific verbal passes at her at the World Championship, but now he was treating her as though she was a very boring nine-year-old child he was expected to look after. And that night, no doubt, he and Billy had gone off on the tiles.

She knew she ought to undress and try to sleep. But it was so hot and stuffy she stayed on the balcony watching the lights twinkling in the grounds of the Villa Borghese. Even the moon was wrapped in a gold lurex shawl of cloud, as though she was going out for the evening.

“Nothing in excess,” Apollo’s motto, was carved over the door at the entrance to the hotel. I’m obviously not going to get a chance even to have anything in moderation, Fen thought sulkily.

“Please, Apollo,” she pleaded, “I promise I won’t be excessive. Just let me have a bit of fun.” As if in answer to her prayer, the telephone rang. Fen sprang on it. “Buona notte.”

“Hi,” said a soft voice, “is that Fen?”

“Who’s that?” she squeaked, her heart hammering.

“It’s Dino, Dino Ferranti.”

Fen sat down suddenly on the bed.

“Hello, hello,” he said when she couldn’t speak. “Fen?”

“Yes,” she stammered. “Oh, how blissful to hear you.”

“I sure missed you, baby. Did you get my telegram?”

“Oh, yes. It was so sweet of you. How did you know?”

“I’ve had my spies out. How are you getting on?”

“Not great, I haven’t won a thing.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a helluva course. Has Rupert been leaping on you?”

“On the contrary, they’re all treating me as if I was a typhoid carrier.”

“This is a godawful line,” said Dino.

“Where are you?”

“In Rome.”

“Rome!” She knew she should be cool, but she couldn’t keep the squeak of delight out of her voice.

“Just dropped by to look at a horse. I’m flying out tomorrow. I guess it’s late, but you wouldn’t like to come out, would you?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“I’ll pick you up in half an hour.”

She’d never washed her hair or bathed so quickly. Thank God, she hadn’t worn her new pink dress and pink shoes yet. She’d been saving them for a special occasion. “Everything in excess,” she told her radiant reflection as she sprayed duty-free perfume, bought on the boat, everywhere: in her shoes, behind her knees and ears and on her bush.

She hoped Dino wouldn’t go off her because she’d cut her hair. She wished she had time to paint her toenails.

She decided not to take the lift, in case she ran into Malise. Instead crept down the huge staircase, clinging onto the banisters for support. Her knees kept giving way. In two minutes she’d see Dino.

Blast! There were Rupert and Driffield in the lobby, apparently examining some expensive jerseys in a glass case. She shot back upstairs, peering through the banisters. Hell! They were still there. She’d just have to brazen it out. Why shouldn’t she go and have a drink with Dino? She reached the bottom of the stairs and was just tiptoeing across the marble floor to the front door, when Rupert and Driffield turned around, both doubled up with laughter.

“What’s the matter?” asked Fen, walking past them, her nose in the air.

“April fool,” said Rupert.

Ignoring them, Fen walked on.

Catching up, Rupert tapped her on the shoulder. “April fool.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I sure missed you, kid. This is Dino Ferranti.”

Fen looked at him, bewildered.

“Is he here already? Where is he?”

Rupert looked down at her, his eyes narrowed to slits, that mocking, cruel smile on his beautiful face.

“In America, as far as I know.”

“He’s not,” said Fen patiently. “He’s in Rome. I’ve just talked to him on the telephone.”

“And he’s come to look at a horse and all the British team are treating you as if you were a typhoid carrier.”

The color drained from Fen’s face.

“It was you,” she whispered.

“Sure was. Don’t you think I’ve picked up quite a good American accent from my wife?”

Fen looked at him with contempt. “You bastard. How could you?”

Rupert shrugged. “New girl’s tease.” He ruffled her hair. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“You bloody won’t,” and, bursting into tears, she ran back upstairs. As she panted, sobbing, up to the second floor Rupert came out of the lift.

“Come on, it was a joke.”

“Not to me, it wasn’t.” She fled down the passage, but as she scrabbled desperately in her bag for her key, Rupert caught up with her.

“Angel, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would upset you that much.”

“Go away,” she sobbed. “I hate you.”

“Shush, shush,” he said, taking her in her arms. “You’ll wake up Griselda from her ugly sleep.”

“Stop it,” she said, hammering her fists against his chest as tears spilled down her cheeks. But he was far too strong for her.

Next moment he was kissing her quivering mouth. For a second she clenched her teeth together. Then, suddenly aware of his warmth and vitality, she melted and began to kiss him back. Her hands, against her will, crept up over the powerful shoulders, her fingers entwining in the sleek thick hair.

“What the hell are you two doing?” said a voice.

Fen nearly went through the ceiling. Rupert didn’t move.

“What does it look as though we’re doing?” snapped Rupert.

He stopped kissing Fen, but still shielded her in his arms. “Look, Malise, this is entirely my fault, not Fen’s. I enticed her out as a practical joke, pretending to be someone else. Then I followed her upstairs and — er — forced my attentions on her.”

“She didn’t appear to be putting up much resistance,” said Malise coldly.

“That’s my irresistible charm,” said Rupert. Releasing Fen, he opened her door and gave her her bag which had fallen on the carpet. “Go to bed, darling. I’ll sort this out.”

Malise, in a dinner jacket, had been to the theater. Rupert and he glared at each other.

“Well,” said Rupert softly, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing, this time,” said Malise, “but you can thank your lucky stars, albeit interpreted by Patric Walker, that I caught you outside the bedroom. If this happens again, I’ll leave you out of the team for the rest of the year.”

Rupert looked unrepentant. “She’s so adorable, it’s almost worth it,” he said.

Billy, who’d forgotten to declare for the following day and had just returned from the show offices, was absolutely livid when he heard what had happened.

“You rotten sod,” he shouted at Rupert. “Didn’t you see the way her little face lit up when the cable arrived? She’s obviously mad about him. How could you do such a fucking awful thing to her? You don’t understand anything about people’s feelings. You’re like a bloody Boy Scout in reverse. You have to do a bad deed every day,” and he walked into his bedroom, slamming the door. Immediately he dialed Fen’s number.

“If that’s Rupert, you can bugger off.”

“It isn’t. Are you okay?”

“Perfectly,” said Fen in a choked voice.

“Do you want a shoulder to cry on?”

“And get into more trouble with Malise! No, thank you very much,” said Fen with a stifled sob, and hung up.

By morning, misery had hardened into cold rage against Rupert. How could she have betrayed Jake and let herself kiss him back like that and, even worse, have enjoyed it? She was a nymphomaniac virgin. She went out to work the horses, boot-faced, with dark glasses covering her swollen eyes.