She nearly said, ‘Not even when we’re married?’ but the words wouldn’t come. Everything that had seemed certain a moment ago had vanished into illusion. She no longer knew him.

She made one last try. ‘Moods aren’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe people shouldn’t be polite all the time. I wasn’t very polite to you last night and you-’

‘Overreacted I’m afraid. But it won’t happen again. Now, can we leave it?’

He rubbed his stubbled jaw. ‘I’d better get inside and put myself right. I don’t want my mother to see me like this. I’d prefer that you didn’t tell her.’

‘Of course not.’

They walked back in silence. Within sight of the house he said, ‘Take a look first, and signal me if it’s clear. No, wait!’

He grasped her arm and pulled her back into the trees as Lucia appeared at the rear door. Her voice reached them.

‘Who left this door unlocked? Surely it hasn’t been like this all night?’

‘It’s all right,’ Harriet said, advancing so that Lucia could see her. ‘I opened it. I’ve been out for an early-morning walk.’

She ran up the steps, kissed Lucia and drew her inside, chattering, apparently aimlessly, but actually manoeuvring her deep into the house. She resisted the temptation to look back, but she thought she heard the faint sound of footsteps going up the stairs.

Half an hour later Marco joined them for breakfast, showered, impeccably dressed and apparently his normal self. He thanked his mother charmingly for the successful party and complimented Harriet on her successful debut in society. He made no mention of anything else.

A few days later an invitation arrived to a party at the Palazzo Manelli.

‘We’ve never been invited there before,’ Lucia observed in surprise.

‘It’s Harriet he really wants, Mamma,’ Marco said. ‘She’s after his collection.’ He gave Harriet a brief smile. ‘This will make your name. Nobody’s ever been so privileged before. Of course we must accept.’

Nobody could have faulted his manner, which was charming, but impenetrable.

Life at the villa had settled into a contented routine. Lucia, whose days were filled with committees, was happy for her guest to spend her time in museums and art galleries. They would meet in the evening for a meal sometimes at home, sometimes at a restaurant before going to the opera. On these occasions Marco would usually join them after the meal, and Harriet realised that he loved opera. Comedies didn’t interest him, but he was drawn to the emotional melodramas, and would sit through the music in a kind of brooding trance, emerging reluctantly.

She’d found the ring and slipped it back onto her finger for public occasions, explaining to Lucia that at other times she was afraid of losing it. She wore it when Marco invited her to lunch again at the bank. He was delightful, even amusing, but she felt he was sending her a silent message that there was no way back to the brief closeness they’d known.

‘You’re afraid I’ll make trouble at Manelli’s party, but I’ve already promised not to,’ he said smoothly. ‘And nobody will think anything of it if such a noted antiquarian as yourself goes off to explore. No, don’t look so sceptical. I’m learning about your international reputation. Several of my colleagues here recognised your name and have asked to meet you.’ He raised his glass. ‘I’m very proud of my fiancée.’

Of his fiancée, she noted, not of herself. There was no way past such implacable charm.

The Palazzo Manelli was in the heart of Rome’s old quarter, near St Peter’s. The lights were already blazing forth from wide windows and doors as their car glided up. The Baron was there to greet them.

Harriet enjoyed herself from the first moment. She knew she was looking at her best in a dress of deep gold silk, with Marco’s gift of rubies about her neck, and she was already acquainted with many of the people here.

Marco squired her conscientiously at first, introducing her to the few strangers, making clear his pride and admiration. Then, true to his promise, he faded away and turned his attention to other guests. These were his old friends and could keep him happily occupied all evening. All his fiancée required was the occasional glance to see if she needed his help. Which she never did.

As Harriet’s confidence grew her wit flowered. Manelli’s guests included several nationalities, and her ability to riposte quickly in each of their languages was making heads turn. This, plus her physical transformation, had made her into a ‘figure’, a slightly exotic personality. She wasn’t pretty, but she was magnificent, and every man in the place seemed increasingly aware of it.

‘Marco, what are you doing neglecting poor Harriet?’ Lucia chided him.

‘“Poor” Harriet is doing very well without me.’ Marco said calmly. ‘Does she look neglected?’

‘She looks submerged in men,’ Lucia retorted tartly. ‘One of them is positively drooling over her hand, and the other keeps trying to see down her dress.’

‘Mamma, the man trying to see down her dress owns an original Michelangelo piece of sculpture,’ Marco said, as if that explained everything. ‘I can’t compete with that. And it’s all perfectly innocent.’

‘Hmph! Manelli isn’t innocent. He’s one of the worst lechers in Rome.’

‘But Harriet is innocent, which is what counts.’ Then he drew a sharp breath.

‘What is it? My dear boy, why do you look like that?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, pulling himself together. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself about this, Mamma. It’s the modern way. Engaged couples don’t live in each other’s pockets. Will you excuse me for a moment?’

He moved away quickly, feeling that if he couldn’t be alone soon he would suffocate. In the garden he managed to evade the lights and laughter and find solitude under the dark trees. His forehead was damp with the strain of what had just happened to him.

He’d said, ‘Harriet is innocent,’ and the word ‘innocent’ had been like a bullet, shattering the glass wall he kept between himself and the past.

She’s innocent-innocent. That was what he’d said when they had tried to warn him about the woman to whom he’d given his heart once and for all time, with nothing held back. No defences. No suspicions, even when he heard the rumours. Just blind love. Blind and stupid. A mistake, never to be repeated. For she hadn’t been innocent, and he’d found out in a way so brutal that it had almost destroyed him. Memory returned to him now, leaving him shaking like a man in the grip of fever.

But Harriet was different, not merely innocent but guileless and blinkered, as only the truly honest were. And there lay his safety, he reasoned. In the long run it was more reliable than trusting to her, or any woman’s, heart.

After a while he pulled himself together. When he was sure he could appear his normal self he returned to the party, smiling broadly, not letting his eyes search for her.

Harriet was relishing her success. After squiring her around at first Marco had turned away with a smile, leaving her to her own devices, and thereafter he entertained himself with all the most beautiful women. Which suited her fine, she thought. Just fine.

And then she saw someone who drove all other thoughts out of her mind.

‘Olympia!’

Her sister had just arrived, now she came sweeping across the floor, arms open to envelope Harriet, pretty face full of glee.

‘I’ve been hearing so much about you,’ she cried, managing to whisper under cover of their embrace. ‘Are you really engaged to Marco?’

‘I’m not sure,’ Harriet said wryly.

Olympia stood back and regarded her. ‘There’s my cautious Harriet. If only I could learn from you!’

‘Then you wouldn’t be Olympia,’ Harriet laughed. ‘Where have you been all this time?’

‘In America, with Mamma and Poppa. They’re still there, but I came home today, and rushed here because I heard “Marco and his bride” were going to be at the party. Oh, you clever, clever sister. You got your own terms, then?’

‘Well-’

‘But of course you did. My dear, that ring! It must have cost-’

‘Don’t be vulgar,’ Harriet chuckled.

‘You’re right. Play it cool. Keep him guessing. That’s the way with Marco. And the others as well. They say you’ve got Manelli eating out of your hand.’

‘He’s going to show me around.’

Manelli appeared at that very moment and swept both women off for a tour of his mansion. He talked well and informatively, and Olympia’s eyes were soon glazing with boredom. She made a desperate excuse and escaped, barely noticed by either of them.

Returning to the party, she was immediately claimed by admirers, and worked her way through them until she found Marco. He hadn’t seen her since the day he’d made his proposition and she’d rejected him in five seconds. They greeted each other amiably.

‘I didn’t know what I was starting when I suggested Harriet, did I?’ she teased. ‘Did I do you a bad turn?’

‘Not at all. Harriet is an excellent choice, barring her habit of vanishing with other men at parties.’

‘Oh, Manelli’s just showing her his pictures. No need to be jealous.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m not jealous.’

‘All right, don’t snap at me. Harriet’s a very unexpected person, as I dare say you know by now. I must admit I only suggested her to tease a rise out of you.’

‘The sort of prank I’d have expected from you,’ he said coldly. ‘You haven’t grown up since you were a child and I used to rescue you from trees when you’d climbed too far. I can take care of myself, but did you ever think you were being unfair to Harriet?’

‘You mean she might have fallen for you?’ Olympia asked with a trill of laughter. ‘Nonsense, caro. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought she might get hurt. I know you’re incapable of falling in love, but so is she. Haven’t you found that out yet?’