‘MY DEAR boy, have you really thought this through?’

Signora Lucia Calvani’s face was full of concern as she watched her son lock the suitcase. He gave her a brief smile, warmer for her than for anyone else, but he didn’t pause.

‘What is there to think through, Mamma? In any case, I’m doing what you required of me.’

‘Nonsense! You never do anything except to suit yourself,’ she retorted with motherly scepticism.

‘True, but it suits me to please you,’ Marco replied smoothly. ‘You wanted a union between myself and the granddaughter of your old friend, and I consider it suitable.’

‘If you mean that you like the idea, kindly say so, and don’t address your mother like a board meeting,’ Lucia said severely.

‘I’m sorry.’ He kissed her cheek with a touch of genuine contrition. ‘But since I’m doing as you wished I don’t understand your concern.’

‘When I said I’d like to see you marry Etta’s granddaughter I was thinking of Olympia, as you well know. She’s elegant, sophisticated, knows all the right people in Rome, and would have been an admirable wife.’

‘I disagree. She’s frivolous and immature. Her sister is older and, I gather, has a serious mind.’

‘She’s been raised English. She may not even speak Italian.’

‘Olympia assures me that she does. Her pursuits are intellectual, and she sounds as if she might well suit my requirements.’

‘Suit your requirements?’ his mother echoed, aghast. ‘This is a woman you’re discussing, not a block of shares.’

‘It’s just a way of talking,’ Marco said with a shrug. ‘Have I forgotten to pack anything?’