“Oh, I am afraid we will get a little wet,” Luca said. “Come under my umbrella. My boat is not too far away.” He put an arm around her, as if this was a most natural thing to do, and led her through a narrow gap between buildings until he reached the launch, which was tied to a gondola post. Then he walked across the prow, balancing precariously, and hauled the boat closer in to shore for Caroline to step in.

“Sorry, we can’t go fast this time,” he said. “Grand Canal has a slow speed, so that the buildings are not damaged. But you will get a little shelter from the rain in the cabin.”

“But you will be soaked.”

He shrugged. “No matter. See, the rain is already easing. And we shall be back in Dorsoduro soon.”

“I’ll hold the umbrella over you,” she said.

“That’s not necessary. I like the rain in my face. Besides, the wind would soon blow it away.”

He revved the engine and reversed the boat into the Grand Canal. There was almost no traffic. Caroline came to stand beside him, staring out as wind and rain blew into her face.

“Don’t you want to sit where you can be dry?” he asked.

She shook her head, wondering how to tell him her suspicion.

“What is wrong?” Luca asked, looking at her. “I noticed this evening that you seem preoccupied and upset.”

Caroline hesitated. “I don’t know if I should tell you this,” she said. “And we probably should never mention it to your father, but I think my great-aunt Juliet was his mother.”

He gave her an astonished look, then shook his head, laughing uneasily. “But no. This cannot be. He had a mother. My grandmother. You met her.”

“A mother who rarely visited his nursery. That’s what your father said. A mother who reacted with such anger when she saw me. She recognized a family resemblance, Luca, as I did. Your father looked at me in exactly the same way my aunt used to. There was something about his eyes. It’s uncanny. That’s why there were so many sketches of him as a baby—because she was forced to give him up.”

He gave an embarrassed cough. “Caroline, don’t you think you are maybe going too far? Maybe you want this to be true? I know my grandmother. I remember her before she became this sad old woman. She was never warm, I agree. She never showed affection, but she was a person who liked to be adored. We had to gather around her at her birthday and give her lavish gifts. Completely self-centred, always. Can you imagine such a person welcoming another woman’s child? A woman who had betrayed her with her husband?”