Amazingly, Laura sketched a graceful curtsy, her hands even holding out the folds of her short dress as she dipped slightly. Franco matched his sister’s gracious gesture with a brief bow from the waist, and his gaze was just as frank.

“Bonjour, madame,” he said, the French words smooth and fluid on his tongue, an obvious challenge to his sister. Green eyes flecked with gold regarded her gravely from beneath his lashes.

“Bonjour,” Ginny replied just as solemnly. “It is very nice to see you both again.”

She restrained the urge to go to her knees and gather them into her arms, uncertain how they would respond. Did they not remember her at all? Had they completely forgotten their mother?

Then Laura took a step forward, placing her hands on Ginny’s knees, dark-blue eyes so much like her father’s staring up earnestly.

“Madame, I do know you, is it not so?”

“Yes, Laura, you do.” Ginny took a deep breath and put her hand over the child’s. “Though it has been some time since I was able to see you, or hold you…you and Franco have always been in my heart.”

But will they understand why I was not with them, why it was better for them to stay in Mexico with Don Francisco than to be with me, when I am not certain I understand it myself?

“But I have seen you—I know! You look just like the portrait that Papa has hung in his study.”

Stricken, Ginny glanced up to meet Steve’s amused gaze, her first thought of the painting so recently done by Alma-Tadema that hung in the Royal Academy. Surely Laura had not seen that painting, the one of her as The Sultan’s Captive where she wore practically nothing save a few wisps of strategic gauze! Why had she not thought that one day her own children might see the painting?

“Don’t worry,” Steve drawled, his amusement evident in the grooves that bracketed his mouth, “the miniature in my study is not too—revealing. It’s quite suitable for young children, and a good enough likeness. I had no idea Renaldo was an artist of sorts. It must be Missie’s influence.”

Of course! His cousin Renaldo was a gentle, kind man who had been very generous to Ginny, and worried so that his wild cousin Esteban would actually kill her one day. It must have been his idea to send the painting to remind the twins they had a mother. How like him to be so thoughtful.

“Did you like the painting?” Ginny asked, and Laura studied her with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Yes, very much. But the painting is of our mother, Papa said. Did you know her?”