Again I remembered the eyes of that child in the portrait. They had not seemed fearful. Had Reynold Bryce created her as he wanted her to be and not as she was?

“Are you acquainted with Reynold Bryce too? What does he say about this resemblance?”

“I’ve never met him,” she said. “He went to Paris before I was born and he never comes home these days. But I do plan to call on him when I’m in Paris. It should be rather fun to meet a real artist, don’t you think?”

“It should. I have friends who are hoping to be introduced to him. My friend is an artist, or rather wants to be recognized as an artist.”

“How lovely to be able to paint, or to do something exciting. I’ve been to a young ladies academy where all they care about is manners and looking pretty. So boring.” She sounded like a typical girl of her age and rolled her eyes, making me smile.

“Do other family members have such a strong resemblance to your aunt?” I asked. “What about your brothers and sisters?”

“I’m an only child,” she said. “My father died before I was born so I never knew him. For many years it was just Mama and me, but then she married again.”

“Ah, so you have a stepfather?”

“I do, and I hate him.” She spat out the words with venom. “He treats me like a child and won’t let me do anything. I had a nice sum of money settled on me and he won’t let me touch it. He is rude and overbearing and a bully. I can’t wait to escape.”

Ah, I thought. So that was why she was marrying the very proper Bostonian—to escape the domination of a hated stepfather. I was about to tell her not to rush into marriage with someone she didn’t love when a woman came flying down the deck, arms waving. “Ellie, so there you are, you naughty girl,” she called as if the girl was five and not a young woman about to be married. “Again you escape from me. Did I not tell you that it is not seemly to walk on the deck alone. One does not know if you will meet a sailor.”

“Ooh, I do hope so,” Ellie replied with a wink to me. “Besides I have met this charming married lady who is chaperoning me perfectly.”

The Frenchwoman looked me up and down and noted the quality of my dress. “Mille pardons, madame,” she said. “I apologize for my charge. She is headstrong and will come a cropper one day, I think.”

“I suspect Miss Ellie was like me. She needed to breathe some fresh sea air, rather than be stuck in the lounge all day. And as you see, no harm has come of her.”