Lorenzo ushered her inside. Almost immediately a

soigne.e, pencil-thin, immaculately groomed young

woman who looked more like a model than a sales

assistant glided towards them, her attention focused

on Lorenzo rather than Jodie. Of course Jodie

couldn’t understand what Lorenzo was saying to her,

but there was no mistaking its impact. They were ushered

towards the back of the store and into an enclosed

private area, where Ms Soigne.e disappeared

and was replaced by a slightly older, even more

dauntingly stunning woman, who quickly introduced

herself as the direttrice of the store.

"I received your message and conveyed it to the

maestro," she informed them reverently in English.

"The designer has himself selected several gowns for

your consideration, and they have been couriered here

from Milano."

They were being left in no doubt as to the great

honour being bestowed on them, Jodie reflected, but

she had to admit that it was equally obvious that the

direttrice was very impressed by Lorenzo.

She turned to look anxiously at Jodie and then exhaled

slightly. "Bene, your fiance.e is not tall, it is true,

but she has the right slenderness for our clothes. If

you will come with me…"

"I am afraid that I have several business appointments

I must keep," Lorenzo apologised. "But I know

I can leave my fiance.e safely in your hands. I shall

return for her in two hours."

The direttrice looked disappointed, but resigned,

whilst Jodie watched Lorenzo leave and told herself

that it was ridiculous for her to feel somehow abandoned.

She was taken to a private room, where she perched

on a small gilt chair as label-clad acolytes reverently

presented her with a selection of wedding gowns from

what she understood from the direttrice was the very

latest collection.

Jodie was no designer label junkie, but these were

very special, and she was forced to admit that she

was in danger of losing her heart to them all. But in

the end there could only be one choice, and she made

it, rebelliously selecting a gown that was in fact a

tightly fitting corset bodice with an elegantly draped

skirt that fitted it so perfectly it looked as though it

were actually a dress and not two pieces.

The direttrice beamed her approval.

"Yes, that is the one I would have chosen for you.

It is very simple, but very elegant, very regal — truly

a wedding gown for a princess. We have guessed your

size from the Duce’s description of you. So many

times a man tells us one thing and we discover…"

She gave a small resigned shrug. "But fortunately the

Duce was correct."

Half an hour later, Jodie faced her own reflection

in the mirror. A young woman who was almost a

stranger to her looked back. Jodie blinked and felt her

eyes blur with emotional tears. If only her parents,

her mother, could have seen her dressed like this. The

gown made her look taller, and emphasised her tiny

waist. A fitted lace jacket with three-quarter sleeves

concealed any bare flesh. The train was so long and

so heavy that Jodie worried that she wouldn’t be able

to manage it.

"It is perfect for you," the direttrice sighed ecstatically.

"The maestro will be so pleased. Now, for the

other things you will need…"

It was another hour before the direttrice finally declared

herself satisfied, by which time Jodie had been

provided with a deliciously curvy suit that could be

dressed up for evening or worn more simply during

the daytime, along with a selection of tops to go with

it, two pairs of impossibly flatteringly cut trousers, a

summer-weight coat with a matching skirt, two pretty

silky dresses, plus shoes and handbags, and what

seemed like an enormous amount of "everyday

things", as the direttrice had called them, from the

designer"s more casual jeans-based range. The only

way she could assuage her guilt over such blatant

consumerism would be to insist that Lorenzo made

good his promise to make a charity donation equivalent

to the cost of her new clothes, Jodie reflected.

She was just beginning to get tired, and felt relieved

when the door to the private room opened and

Lorenzo walked in.

"You have everything you need?" he asked her.

Jodie nodded her head.

Thanking the direttrice, who promised that those

items that were in need of small alterations would be

delivered to the apartment by the following afternoon,

Lorenzo ushered her back out onto the now dark

street.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Very," Jodie admitted.

"There is a restaurant a short distance from here

where they serve simple but excellent local food."

The restaurant was down a narrow street, its tables

set out on the pavement, and they had to edge their

way to one of the few tables that was empty.

"If you would like me to recommend something for

you?" Lorenzo offered once they were seated and the

waiter had brought menus.

"Yes, please — but nothing too heavy," Jodie begged

him, "otherwise I won’t be able to sleep."

"Very well, then. Perhaps not the affettati misti to

start with, which is a traditional selection of cold

meats, but instead pinzimonio, which is fresh vegetables

with olive oil?"

"That sounds perfect," Jodie agreed.

"Then, if it will not be too heavy for you, you

should try the lasagne al forno — it is a speciality of

Florence and like no other lasagne you will ever have

tasted," he assured her.

Smiling, Jodie nodded her head. "What are you going

to have?" she asked him.

"I shall start with the affettati misti and then I think

calamari in zimino — stewed squid," he explained, and

Jodie pulled a face.

All around them other diners were talking and

laughing, whole families eating together, Jodie noticed

slightly enviously. Her only family were her

cousin David and his wife Andrea, and though she

and David had always got on well, there was a nine-

year gap between them. David had already been married

when her parents had been killed, and his parents—

her father"s brother and his wife — had returned

to her aunt"s home country of Canada.

"Tomorrow morning I have arranged for us to visit

my bank," Lorenzo was telling her. "There are some

papers there it is necessary for you to sign. I have

opened a bank account for you, and the family betrothal

ring is in the bank"s vaults, along with certain

other pieces of jewellery. The ring will have to be

cleaned, and possibly resized — although, like you, my

mother had very slender fingers."

Their first course had arrived, but Jodie discovered

that she had lost her appetite a little.

"what’s wrong?" Lorenzo asked her.

"I Don’t feel happy about the idea of wearing a

valuable piece of jewellery," she told him truthfully.

"Especially not some kind of family heirloom. What

if I were to lose it?"

"I am the head of my family and you are to be my

bride. It will be expected that you will wear the family

betrothal ring," Lorenzo told her firmly.

"couldn’t you have a copy made or something?"

Jodie persisted.

Lorenzo started to frown. "If it concerns you so

much, then I shall think about it. Now, eat your dinner—

otherwise Carlo will think that you do not like

his food, and to a Florentine that is a very great insult."

The next morning Lorenzo allowed Jodie a little more