Une liaison dangereuse?

"These pockets are very full," said my uncle Chris, of the coat I'd lent him as protection against the biting London evening air.

"Yes," I replied, "there's all sorts in there. I should really clear them out."

So it was that I found a reminder of an evening in America almost 10 years past: a bracelet, an accidental memento of a girl with whom I had a brief, entirely unexpected but very enjoyable liaison. A night which my inexperienced and panicking mind then sought to ensure was unique by scaring the young woman in question with a very intense, confused letter.

I remember the bracelet because after our tryst, she'd expressed concern about it having gone missing. It had no value other than sentimental, she told me. I swore I'd look for it.

It wasn't until months later that I found it quite by chance, hiding in a suitcase pocket. By then I'd lost all nerve and decided to hang on to it as a keepsake. The wrong decision, I know.

But I thought I'd lost the bracelet years ago, and its sudden reappearance presents me with a problem. I'm not entirely sure what to do with it. Because I know I'm highly likely to meet the girl again in the autumn, for the first time since that night in October '96.

Except she's now, to the best of my knowledge, a married woman. A New York lady married to a Geordie. One with bad teeth, by all accounts, probably obtained by being very protective about his women.

I have to give the bracelet back, that much is clear. The question is how do I it while preserving as much face as possible.

And more importantly, how do I avoid causing a scene at a large Italian-American wedding? Not that I wish to bandy about stereotypes, but knowing the family as I do I don't want to spoil the bride's big day.

Please help me do the right thing. Or at the very least get out of this with all limbs and senses intact.