She was fussed over, pampered, as per doctor’s orders, and put to bed by the Bissets’ old nanny. The woman who had cared for Alexander’s mother, for him and his brother and sister, and now for the third generation, clucked and muttered and had hands as gentle as a baby’s. They were curled with arthritis, yellowed and spotted with age, but she undressed Eve and slipped her into nightclothes effortlessly.

“When your dinner tray comes, you will eat.”

“Yes, Nanny,” Eve said meekly as her pillows were fluffed and piled behind her.

The old woman settled beside her and picked up a cup of tea. “And now you will drink this. All of this. It’s my own mixture and will put the color back in your cheeks. All my children drink it when they are sick.”

“Yes, Nanny.” Even Prince Armand had never awed her as much as the silver-haired, black-clad old woman with the Slavic accent. Eve sipped at the mixture, expecting the worst, and was surprised by a nutty herbal taste.

“There.” Pleased with herself, Nanny nodded. “Children always think medicine will taste nasty and find tricks to keep from taking it. I know tricks of my own.” Her stiff skirts rustled as she shifted. “Even little Dorian asks for Nanny’s drink when he’s feeling poorly. When Alexander was ten, Franco took out his tonsils. He wanted my tea more than the ice cream.”

She tried to picture Alexander as a child, and only saw the man, so tall and straight and proud. “What was he like, Nanny, when he was little?”

“Reckless. Thunderous.” She smiled and the symphony of wrinkles on her face deepened. “Such a temper. But the responsibility was always there. He learned it in the cradle. He seemed to understand even as a baby that he would always have more than other men. And less.” As she spoke, she rose to tidy Eve’s clothes. “He was obedient. Though you could see the defiance in his eyes, he was obedient. He studied hard. He learned well. Both he and Bennett were fortunate that their personalities were so markedly different. They fought, of course. Brothers must, after all. But they became fond of each other early as people.”

She kept a sharp eye on her patient, and noted the tea was nearly finished. “He has the intensity of his father, sometimes more. But, then, the prince had my Elizabeth to share with him, to soothe him, to make him laugh at himself. My Alexander needs a wife.”

Eve’s gaze rose slowly over the rim of her cup. She was warm and growing drowsy, but she recognized the look in Nanny’s eyes. “He’ll have to decide that for himself.”

“For himself. And for Cordina. The woman he chooses will have to be strong, and willing to share the burdens.” Nanny took the empty cup. “Most of all, I hope she is capable of making him laugh.”