The way she spoke made the Countess realise that wherever Paola appeared there would be innumerable young men seeking her out.
They would pay her compliments, send her flowers and undoubtedly lay their hearts at her feet.
She was now, however, being obliged to move in the shadows and she would meet eligible bachelors only by chance rather than as a matter of course.
She would not be able to enjoy the wider view of Society that only London could offer.
She would also, the Countess knew, look wrong in black. The strange Botticelli gold of her hair would be too dramatic framed in crepe.
That would in itself be a mistake.
‘But she will be safe in Italy,’ the Countess told herself.
*
Paola, having hugged her old Nanny, went down to the kitchen to shake hands with the staff.
They were a
