‘What I would like,’ she said, putting her daydream into words for the first time, ‘is not to return to London at all. I would like to continue living in Florence. I would like Florence to be my home, not just for a year or two while my parents are here, but for always.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘But surely such a thing is not possible? It would never be allowed for any young unmarried woman – and certainly not one who addresses Queen Victoria as “Aunt Queen”!’

‘It might be allowed, if I have a suitable lady companion living with me. Someone similar to Miss Light, for instance.’

They had reached the far side of the piazza, and a cafe with outdoor tables set beneath an awning. Waiters hurried over. Chairs were pulled out for them. Careful to make enough room for her bustle, May sat down.

Shocked at the realization of how serious she was, Thaddeus suppressed the desire for a large whiskey and said to the young man waiting for their order, ‘Due limonate con ghiaccio, per favore.’

The waiter nodded and hurried away and Thaddeus said, concerned, ‘I’m sorry, May. I’m afraid not even Miss Light’s presence would make the situation you are envisaging possible.’

She bit her lip and looked away from him, but not before he had seen that he had dashed something she had been seriously hoping for. After a few moments she said bleakly, ‘I’m sorry. At heart, I always knew it was impossible. It would have been so nice, though, if it hadn’t been.’

‘But why?’ He was mystified. Although he had always been sensible enough not to show it and to embarrass either May or himself, he was deeply attracted to her. He liked her quiet manner, her natural dignity, her sense of fun and quick intelligence. He liked the way her hair was neither blonde nor brown, but a tantalizing mixture of both shades, and the way it was shot through with strands of dark gold. He liked the way she had become so passionate about Renaissance art, and how her eyes shone with enthusiasm whenever it was under discussion.

The waiter served them their lemonades and May replied, ‘In London, being royal means I live a very different kind of life from that which I live here. Friendships can only be made within the family – and no one within the family is interested in the kind of things that I’m interested in.’

‘Which are?’

‘Art and history, and making visits to galleries and museums.’

He frowned. ‘But some of them must be, surely? In their palaces and castles the British royal family is surrounded by some of the greatest paintings in the world.’