‘Indeed he is not,’ a plummy elderly male voice said from behind them. ‘How nice to run into you so unexpectedly, Bianca. Would your young friends mind if I stole your company for a half-hour or so, in order to catch up on family gossip?’

Miss Light was kissed on either cheek, introductions were made and it was agreed that Miss Light and her cousin, a gentleman who was relying heavily on a walking stick, would spend some time sitting companionably together in the coolness of the Duomo.

May and Thaddeus watched them make their way towards the nave and a pew, and then Thaddeus quirked an eyebrow. ‘As we are both so familiar with the Duomo, would you like to spend the next half an hour having an iced lemonade at one of the cafes in the piazza?’

It was a loaded question. Even though he had become so close a friend of the family that her parents regarded him almost as if he were family, convention ensured that she had never been alone with him. When he came to I Cedri to paint her portrait, her mother always joined them. On countryside excursions, when Rowena and Belinda were also with them, so was Miss Light – a chaperone, even though she was never openly referred to as such. In the many months they had known each other, this was the first time they been alone together.

May knew what her response should be. She should decline the invitation and instead remain with Mr Thaddy in the Duomo, admiring artworks long familiar to both of them and keeping well within sight of Miss Light and her cousin.

Instead she said, ‘Thank you, Mr Thaddy. Iced lemonade would be most welcome.’

He proffered his arm. She slid her net-gloved hand into its crook and, before Miss Light could remember her duties as a chaperone and hastily re-join them, they walked briskly together out of the Duomo and into the still-strong sunlight.

‘The heat doesn’t seem to trouble you as much as it does your mother,’ he commented as they began crossing the crowded piazza.

‘No, it doesn’t. At I Cedri I can nearly always find a cool place to sit, and I enjoy Florence’s heat. It’s far preferable to an often-chill English summer.’

He shot her a quick smile. ‘Or a distinctly wet Irish one, which is why I like living here.’

‘I like living here as well.’ She was relieved that he was as easy to talk to when they were on their own as he was when they were with other people. ‘I like it so much I never want to live anywhere else.’

‘Where Florence is concerned, I feel like that, too, although I suppose I will eventually return to Dublin.’ They sidestepped a man selling toy monkeys-on-a-stick from a tray. ‘Your father tells me you have another year – perhaps even another two years – before you all return to London.’