He held it out to her: a circle of gold, now gleaming dully in his palm. “Your mother’s wedding ring. It’s too big for her now, but see?” He took her right hand and pushed it onto her ring finger. “As I thought. It fits you well.”

The ring was warm against her skin. He took her hand in both of his, lifted it to kiss her palm, and then, his head bowed low, pressed her hand against his cheek.

“I don’t understand. Why are you giving me Mamma’s ring?”

“You will need it.” He did not let go of her hand. “You and Signor Gerardi will be traveling as man and wife.”

She turned to the stranger who hovered an arm’s length away, not bothering to hide her surprise and discomfort. He flushed, a flare of color beneath his boyish freckles.

“It is a fiction to keep you safe,” he promised. “No more than that.”

“This is all so sudden. An hour ago I was sitting with Mamma, and now . . .” Now she was the one who had to blink back her tears.

“I know. I know, and I am sorry. But you will be safe with Signor Gerardi and his family. I would not send you with him if I thought otherwise.”

“If it helps, Antonina, we aren’t leaving until the morning,” Niccolò said. “You don’t have to say goodbye just yet.” She nodded, and managed to twist her mouth into a smile, but then she had to blink hard to keep back her tears. If she remained in the study any longer, she would break down, and that would only make things harder for her father.

“I think I’ll go to bed now,” she said, and was surprised by the steadiness of her voice. “Good night, Papà.” She came forward to kiss her father’s cheek, and only just managed not to throw her arms around him and beg that he reconsider. That he keep her close, no matter what lay ahead.

Instead she stepped back and, after nodding politely to Niccolò, retreated to the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth and spent far too long examining her wan face in the mirror. As she tiptoed along the corridor to her room she could hear the sound of her father talking; and though his words were too faint to make out, the underlying timbre of his voice didn’t seem at all distressed.

That slight comfort carried her through the minutes it took to close the shutters, to undress and change into her nightgown, which she had to retrieve from the bottom of the rucksack, and to crawl into bed.