“Having met the girl, I understand the appeal,” she said softly. Geneviève had no problems staying angry at her oldest son, but there was something about her youngest child, who so clearly took after her with his good looks and mischievous spirit, that made it impossible for her to give him the tough love he needed. She had been sent a video of the crazed Anna K. running out onto the field after Vronsky’s fall from the horse, and even though she couldn’t see the young girl’s face, Anna’s anguish was apparent in her stricken posture and gait.

Geneviève had always known Alexia would grow up to be a heartbreaker, but she never expected he’d be such an accomplished lothario by the tender age of sixteen. Anna K. was quite a trophy for his wall, and while she respected what it probably took for him to get her, it was her job as his mother to make sure he understood that her notch should be carved on a bedpost, not in the chamber of his heart.

Hearing her son use the word “love” for another woman was not to her liking. She wanted to be the sole owner of his deepest affections for his entire life, and she had no plans to let go of him so easily. Geneviève knew she should send him away to school and that geographical distance was what was required in this case, but looking across the table at him, she knew he wouldn’t go. His older brother Kiril only lasted two days without money, but she knew Alexia was made of stronger mettle than his brother and was crafty enough to get by for much longer. She needed to handle this situation very delicately, using all the wisdom and savvy she had accrued in her own life. One wrong move on her part could drive a wedge between her and her favorite son, which was not her intention. “Alexia, darling, the whole ugly business has become too public. Stop seeing her for a while, and if you still feel the same way about her in a year, I’ll be the first one to offer you both my blessing.”

“I haven’t seen her in nine days, Mother,” he said, as if nine days was nine years.

“That’s a great start! Only three hundred and fifty-six left to go…”

“It’s killing me!” Vronsky continued, ignoring his mother. “And it’s not by my choice. She promised Alexander she’d take some time to decide what she wants.”

“You’re certainly the better man, my darling,” his mother conceded. “But she’s a young woman and Alexander W. could secure her entire future. He’d be a wonderful first husband.” Geneviève was tired of the glumness, and too much talk always made her tea go cold. It was time for her to bring a little levity to the discussion.