“So he married someone he didn’t love, just for business reasons?”

“That is how it goes.”

“Not any more, surely? You didn’t marry for business reasons?”

“Ah, but I did. That was part of the problem,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I ever really loved her. Everyone said, ‘She’s so suitable, she’s so accomplished, what a good wife she will make.’ But she didn’t. She drank too much, even at twenty-four. Our life was always in turmoil. And it sounds awful now, but in a way I was relieved when she died.”

“I’m so sorry, Luca.”

“I’m not. It took me a while, but I’m ready to move on.”

“To find the next suitable bride?” she asked, teasing now.

He shook his head. “My father dared to defy family and marry my mother, although her family is not without money and connections. And we no longer have the power we used to have before the war. So I don’t think it matters as much anymore.”

A squall of rain peppered the window. Luca looked up. “It seems the rain has set in for the night. And the aqua alta, too. I do not think I want to go all the way across to the Lido in this weather,” he said. “In fact it would be quite foolishly dangerous.” His voice became softer. “You are not going to turn me out into the storm, are you?” His hand moved down her arm, his finger tracing a line over her hand. “I think I should like to make love to you. Would that be so wrong? Even if I am your cousin.”

“Would that be wise?” Caroline asked, although she had to admit she felt a thrill of arousal. “After all, look what happened to my aunt Lettie.”

“Will not happen to you, I promise.” His eyes were challenging hers. “And you would not be cruel enough to send me out into the aqua alta, would you?” His finger was caressing the back of her hand. “But only if you want to. I think you do.”

Caroline returned his smile. “Why not?” she said.

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 34

Juliet, Venice, December 26, 1939

My first Christmas away from home. How strange and empty it seemed, and yet some good things have happened, too. I moved into my new home—a home that I own, at least for the next ninety-nine years, on December 16. I found there were new rugs on the floor, a new water heater in the bathroom (like my landlady’s, but not so prone to exploding) and a new bed made up with clean sheets and a huge fluffy eiderdown. There were lined velvet drapes at the windows. The place was warm; there was coal beside the stove. It was a bright, sparkling day, and I gazed out at that view, feeling a great swelling of happiness for the first time in months. It was perfect.