“Party last month? At the ambassador’s residence? You were there with Harry and your sister. Of course you don’t remember. It was the end of the evening before I introduced myself. I guess we all had a little too much champagne.”

Iris tried to recall the party, but Mr. Digby was right. She had drunk a lot of champagne that night, and she wasn’t used to it. Her memories of the evening were . . . well, kaleidoscopic was a nice way to put it.

“I’m awfully sorry. I should remember you.”

He laughed. “Yes, I do stick out in a crowd, don’t I?”

“It’s just that I don’t usually have so much to drink. They kept refilling my glass when I wasn’t looking.”

“Ah, well, they do it on purpose. Without wine there would be no diplomacy. Anyway, I should have introduced myself earlier.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m shy, Miss Macallister.”

“No, you’re not! Didn’t you just walk up to me and introduce yourself?”

“Only after spending an hour wandering around after you, working up the nerve.”

“Oh,” Iris said.

Mr. Digby looked at his watch. “Say, I’d ask you to coffee, but I’ve got a silly appointment coming up.”

“Then you shouldn’t be late.”

“No, I can’t, I’m afraid. But I’m glad I spotted you here. I mean, I’m not surprised to see you in a place like this. I knew there was something different about you.”

His ears were pink. A bright raspberry stain covered his cheekbones.

“I’m glad too, Mr. Digby,” she said.

“Sasha.”

“Sasha. I’m Iris.”

“I know.” He glanced again at his watch. “I’m late. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Go. Don’t be late.”

“You’ll remember me at the next party?”

She shook his hand a second time. “I certainly will.”

AFTER SASHA DIGBY RUSHED off, Iris floated upstairs to the first floor. (Not to be confused with the ground floor—this was Italy, after all.) Because marble was so extraordinarily heavy, you didn’t find any mesmerizing Bernini statuary up there, just paintings and ancient Roman artifacts and some splendidly decorated rooms. Iris knew them all well. She came here often. A gallery like that was like an opium den for her, packed with pleasure and revelation.