“I think we are past that stage, Grandmother,” Tom said flatly. “And so, now there is, what? A lovers’ quarrel?”

“One can only presume so.”

“And she dismisses him.” He brooded on it for a while. The man—he was disposed to loathe him, but how much more to hate his mother.This man saw only a death certificate. Meanwhile his mother had been twice a traitor: taking a lover, and then dismissing from his post the man his father had selected to run Massot while Tom came of age.

“It is almost as if she wants rid of every trace of my father,” he said aloud.

“You must try to forgive her,” Katherine said, without conviction. “But my Pierre—how this hurts, Thomas. And there is nothing we can do about it.”

He spun on his heels on the Manchu-dynasty silk rug and faced her.

“Ah, no, that is where you are wrong,” Tom said. “If you will help me, Grandmother, I think we shall be able to act.”

He persuaded her to take a walk with him on the grounds of the dower house; there was a fine walled garden, mostly laid to lawn, with gravel walks lined with rose bushes, lavender, and other formal plantings. The day was very hot for May, but Tom offered his arm and promised they would walk slowly. He did not want the servants eavesdropping on family business.

“Ah, yes . . . my shares.” Katherine had insisted on bringing her fan, an antique made of ivory, exquisitely carved with a filigree pattern; she swayed it quickly back and forth against the languor of the heat. “I hadn’t considered them for years. Finance is incredibly boring.”

Her white eyelashes flickered, almost as if she were batting them at him. “My Pierre took care of that sort of thing.”

“But there are rather a lot. I have half that amount myself, that I can use now. If, Grandmother—if you would trust me with your shares . . .”

Tom felt nervous; his entire plan depended on this. At Lin coln’s Inn it had seemed the natural and proper outcome; now it came to the point, he felt he was asking for a great deal.

“You want me to give you my shares? But of course, if you need the money. All I have is yours.”

He started. “No—not give them to me. Assign me your votes—make me your proxy. With fifteen percent of shareholder votes I would receive an automatic seat on the board of directors. Even Maman could not remove me.”

Katherine turned her snowy head. The rheumy eyes regarded him appraisingly.

“Well, well,” she said softly. “Perhaps after all there is something of your father in you.”

Tom squared his shoulders. “More than something, Grandmother,” he said proudly.

“I will summon M. Foche and draw up the papers today.”