Margerite smiled fleetingly. “But certainly not an admirable one when I find myself eaten up with envy to see that a man I’d hoped to, well, enchant, was instead enchanted by my daughter. I regret, very much, my behavior and my words. There,” she said on a puff of breath. “Will you forgive me?”

“Of course I will. And I’ll apologize, too, for speaking to you the way I did.”

Margerite took a little square of lace from her bag and dabbed at her eyes. “You surprised me, I admit. I’ve never seen you so passionate about anything. He’s a beautiful man, dear. I won’t say I approve of a relationship between you, but I can certainly understand it.” She sighed as she tucked the handkerchief back into her bag. “Your happiness is important to me, Sydney.”

“I know that.”

Her eyes still glistened when she looked at her daughter. “I’m so glad we cleared the air. And I want to do something for you, something to make up for all of this.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to, really. Have dinner with me tonight.”

Sydney thought of the dozens of things she had to do, of the quiet meal she’d hoped for at the end of it all with Mikhail. Then she looked at her mother’s anxious eyes. “I’d love to.”

“Wonderful.” The spring was back in her step as Margerite got to her feet. “Eight o’clock. Le Cirque.” She gave Sydney a quick and genuine hug before she strolled out.

By eight, Sydney would have preferred a long, solitary nap, but stepped from her car dressed for the evening in a sleeveless silk jumpsuit of icy blue.

“My mother’s driver will take me home, Donald.”

“Very good, Ms. Hayward. Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you.”

The maître d’ recognized her the moment she walked in and gracefully led her to her table himself. As she passed through the elegant restaurant filled with sparkling people and exotic scents, she imagined Mikhail, sitting at his scarred workbench with a bottle of beer and a bowl of goulash.

She tried not to sigh in envy.

When she spotted her mother—with Channing—at the corner table, she tried not to grit her teeth.

“There you are, darling.” So certain her surprise was just what her daughter needed, Margerite didn’t notice the lights of war in Sydney’s eyes. “Isn’t this lovely?”

“Lovely.” Sydney’s voice was flat as Channing rose to pull out her chair. She said nothing when he bent close to kiss her cheek.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sydney.”

The champagne was already chilled and open. She waited while hers was poured, but the first sip did nothing to clear the anger from her throat. “Mother didn’t mention you’d be joining us tonight.”