The Baby Who Chose a Stranger

Chapter 1 - The Face Above the Candles

The little boy's crying rose above the music.

Adrian Vale shifted him against the gold embroidery of his jacket. He had tried walking, whispering, and the familiar wooden rattle tucked in his pocket. Nothing helped.

Then the child saw the maid.

He leaned toward her so suddenly that Adrian tightened his hold. Small hands opened and closed in the air.

Lena stopped beside the flower table.

“May I hold him? Sir?”

“He never lets strangers hold him.”

But Oliver had caught her sleeve. Adrian looked down at the determined little fist, then nodded.

Lena supported the boy's back and settled her other hand beneath him. Only when he was secure did Adrian release him.

Oliver pressed his wet cheek against her shoulder.

Two small sobs. A shuddering breath.

Silence.

Lena rubbed his back without thinking. Her hand moved in a slow circle, then stopped as something tightened in her chest.

“He seems to know you,” Adrian said.

She looked up.

His expression had changed. He was staring past her at the portrait surrounded by white flowers and candles.

Lena turned carefully, keeping Oliver supported.

The woman in the painting wore a black gown and a delicate coronet. Her eyes, her mouth, even the slight unevenness of her eyebrows were Lena's own.

“She died two years ago,” Adrian said.

Lena faced him again.

“Then why does she look like me?”

Behind them, a glass struck the marble floor.

Adrian's aunt stood beside the doorway, one empty hand trembling at her side.