“He blames himself for Arriette.” Madame’s patrician profile was silhouetted as we sped along the highway, streetlights glowing amber, casting her in sharp relief.

“Yes,” I agreed, and after a brief hesitation, added, “I got the impression from him you did not approve of her.”

“I should have been better about accepting Arriette when she was alive. I always thought he was too good for her. Perhaps a mother’s pride. But in the end I was right. He had to fight that battle alone. He didn’t feel he had my support when things got bad. And of course when she died he probably thought I was saying … I told you so …” She shook her head.

“Have—have you told him your regrets?”

“Not in so many words. Besides, their union produced Dauphine.”

“I think he probably needs to hear it. Maybe not the part about where you think you were right. I think he already knows that.”

She gave a humorless laugh, then sighed. “I have not been the best mother. And with the terrible example his own parents set, it’s no wonder he chose poorly.”

My chest squeezed. “He loves you. And no one is perfect. We all do the best we can,” I soothed. And suddenly I ached for my own mom. She’d said similar things to me growing up when she and I had crossed wires, about how she was just doing the best she could. And she did. I never doubted her devotion. Even when she chose Nicholas De La Costa as my stepfather.

Madame patted my knee. “Yes. I hope you will remember your own words of wisdom when you and Xavier are working out your differences. When this is all over and my granddaughter is safe. We all do the best we can.”

I narrowed my eyes at her emotional outmaneuvering, but she pretended not to notice. “He accused me of being involved in what happened today,” I said instead.

Her inhale was sharp. “Non.”

“Oui,” I responded.

She flicked her hand through the air. “Ridiculous!”

“Oui,” I repeated, waiting for the inevitable question of why he might have thought that with a hint of suspicion. None came. Instead she said, “He is looking for an excuse to set you away from his heart. And that tells me all I need to know.”

She picked up my hand in hers again. “After we have Dauphine back in our arms, please … please give him a chance. Love is … true and real. And deep love is … so rare. I am only just discovering it myself. I saw the way my son looked at you yesterday when he thought none of us would notice and,” she caught my eyes and held them, “and the way you looked at him. You have been … healing for him. For Dauphine. Real love from the right person will do that.”