“Um.” I shifted over on the bench to give him room. “The south, probably Marseille. But I’m not sure.”

“I apologize. I should have told you there is a Huguenot Memorial on Ile Saint Marguerite.”

“Where we just were a few days ago?” I asked, dismay lacing my tone. I quickly schooled my features and hoped I hadn’t come off as annoyed. This was not my vacation after all. But I was annoyed. I couldn’t help it. Suddenly I asked myself why I was still working for a man who didn’t even like me half the time. But then I thought of Dauphine. She’d told me she loved me when I was putting her to bed the other night. And I surprised myself my returning the sentiment.

“What was all that Huguenot stuff about anyway?” asked Evan. “Wasn’t much for history in school.”

“People being persecuted for being protestant, so hundreds of thousands fled the country,” I supplied as he steered the vessel past the quay and toward our huge floating home.

“So you’re technically protestant,” Evan mused, eyeing me. “And Xavier here is Catholic. Interesting. Destined to be at odds.”

I kicked Evan’s shin, acting like I was being playful, while inside I was asking what the hell? “And what are you?” I asked Evan, trying to brush over the weird vibe.

“Thirsty. Hey, the crew is all going out when we get to St Tropez. You should come with us.”

I glanced at my employer, who was staring very hard at his phone. “Sure,” I said. “That’d be fun. As long as Dauphine doesn’t need me.”

“She’ll be seeing her grandmother for a bit,” Xavier responded, letting us know he had, indeed, been listening.

“Oh,” I responded. Surprised. “How long for?” What was I supposed to do when I wasn’t watching Dauphine?

“I’m not sure yet. Evan?” He turned his head toward his bodyguard. “When are we due in St. Tropez?”

“Day after next. Why?”

He switched to French, and they spoke so rapidly that between that and the sound of the tender motor, I let their conversation go and drifted into feeling the sun and wind on my face. Turning toward the elements, I breathed in deeply.