‘Not always. Among my banking colleagues I have the reputation of sometimes getting carried away.’

‘You?’ she asked with an involuntary emphasis.

‘I have been known to thrown caution to the winds,’ he said gravely.

‘Profitably, of course.’

‘Of course.’

She studied his face, trying to see if he was joking or not, unable to decide. He guessed what she was doing and regarded her wryly, eyebrows raised as if to ask whether she’d worked it out yet. The moment stretched on and he grew uncomfortably aware of something transfixed in her manner.

‘Would you like some more wine?’ he asked, to bring her back to earth.

‘I’m sorry, what was that?’

‘Wine.’

‘Oh, no-no, thank you. You know your face really is familiar. I wish I could remember-’

‘Perhaps I remind you of a boyfriend,’ he suggested delicately. ‘Past or present?’

‘Oh, no, I haven’t had a boyfriend for ages,’ she murmured, still regarding him.

What was the matter with her he wondered? Sophisticated one minute, gauche the next. Still, it told him what he needed to know.

As they were eating he asked, ‘How do you and Olympia come to have different nationalities?’

‘We don’t,’ Harriet said quickly. ‘We’re both Italian.’

‘Well, yes, in a sense-’

‘In every sense,’ she interrupted with a touch of defiance. ‘I was born in Italy, my father is Italian and my name is Italian.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Marco said, seeing the glint of anger in her large eyes and thinking how well it suited her. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘Hasn’t Olympia told you the story?’

‘Only vaguely. I know your father married twice, but naturally Olympia knows very little about his first wife.’

‘My mother loved him terribly and he just dumped her. I remember when I was five years old, finding her crying her eyes out. She told me he was throwing us out of the house.’

‘Your mother told you that?’ he echoed, genuinely shocked. ‘A child?’