“I suspected you were with the American.” She sniffed a little. “A pity his blood isn’t as blue as his eyes, but you could do worse.”

The diamond weighed heavily on her finger. “It’s still just a dream, isn’t it?”

“You don’t dream enough,” Nanny said briskly. “So I brought you milk and found you’d looked for a different kind of comfort.”

This time Brie laughed. “Would you scold me if I said I much preferred it?”

“I’d simply advise you to keep your preferences from your father for a while yet.” Nanny’s voice was dry and amused as Brie grinned up at her. “Perhaps you have no more use for the other comfort I brought you.” Reaching beside her, she pulled out a plain, round-faced rag doll in a tattered pinafore. “When you were a child and were restless in the night, you’d reach for this.”

“Poor ugly thing,” Brie murmured as she took it in her hands.

“You called her ‘Henrietta Homely.’”

“I hope she didn’t mind,” Brie began as she ran a hand over the doll’s hair. Then she went stiff and very still.

A young girl in a small bed with pink hangings, pink sheets, pink spread. White frills on a vanity table. Rosebuds on the wallpaper. Music drifting up from far away. A waltz, slow and romantic. And there was a woman, the woman from the portrait, smiling, murmuring, laughing a little as she leaned over the bed, so that the emeralds in her ears caught the low light. Her dress was like the emeralds, green and rich. It rustled musically as the best of silks do. She smelled of apple blossoms, of spring, of youth.

“Gabriella.” Nanny put a hand to Brie’s shoulder and squeezed. Beneath the thin robe, she could feel the skin, icy. “Gabriella.”

“My room,” Brie whispered as she continued to stare down at the doll. “My room when I was a girl—what color?”

“Pink,” Nanny said haltingly. “It was all pink and white, like a pastry.”

“And my mother.” Brie’s fingers dug into the rag doll, but she didn’t know it. Sweat pearled on her forehead, but she didn’t know that, either. As long as she pushed, as long as she held on, she could see and remember. “Did she have a green silk dress? Emerald green. A ball gown?”

“Strapless.” With an effort, the old woman kept her voice calm and quiet. “The waist was very snug. The skirt was very full.”

“And her scent was like apple blossoms. She was so beautiful.”

“Yes.” Nanny’s strong fingers held her shoulder firmly. “Do you remember?”

“I— She came to see me. There was music, a waltz playing. She came to tuck me in.”

“She would always. First you, then Alexander, then Bennett. Your father would come up if he could slip away, but they’d both come to the nursery before they went to bed. I’ll go get your father now.”

“No.” Brie pressed the doll close. She couldn’t hold the image any longer. It left her weak and breathless. “No, not yet. That’s all there is. Just that one picture, and I need so much more. Nanny …” Eyes brimming, Brie looked up again. “I did love her. Finally I can feel it. I loved her so much. Now, remembering that, it’s like losing her again.”