"You're finally here," she noticed us first, rising with fluid grace. Her tone was gentle, proper—the voice of a woman who had already won and saw no need to gloat. "We were beginning to worry."
I looked at Giorgio. "Was this your arrangement?"
He did not answer. He walked past me without a glance and nodded to her with something that might have been relief. "Was the journey smooth?"
"Of course." Her smile was perfectly measured, warm enough to seem genuine, cool enough to remind everyone present of her breeding. "Uncle and Aunt were kind enough to invite me early. They wanted to discuss the... transition."
Only then did Donna Diana cast a glance in my direction. Brief. Cool. The kind of look one might give a servant who had arrived late to pour the wine.
"Since you're here," she said, "sit down."
No introduction. No welcome. No acknowledgment that I was the woman her son had been contracted to marry.
The conversation that followed had nothing to do with me.