“Make sure he knows it is secret; he is not to go running to Maman,” Tom said bitterly. “Foche is the one who gave her those papers and let her declare Papa dead.”

“Your mother was determined; Foche had no choice. It is foolish to blame him; he is nothing but a functionary,” Katherine said with contempt. “And what will you do with a seat on the board?”

“I was thinking of lawsuits. But there are some already, enough to delay her plans.”

“The law is a start.”

“And although I will not gain control of the shares until my twenty-first birthday, on the board I can force Maman to resign.”

Katherine smiled. “How, pray, will you do that?”

“I will show her how damaging her actions are, and if she will not resign, then I will go to the shareholders and ask them to pass a vote of no confidence. She would not be able to stay then. The stock would plunge.”

The old lady’s arm tightened on his support.

“Yes, that might work,” she said, quietly. “You are, of course, very young.”

“Young does not mean stupid,” he said.

“I know, my dear. It is convincing other people that will be harder. But not, of course, impossible.” The fan stilled; she concentrated; he was amazed at how roused she was, how far from her usual torpor.

“I know Pierre would have wanted that,” she said, with complete certainty. “And I will see to it his will is not overcome. You are his son.”

“His heir,” Tom said righteously. “Me—not Maman.”

“I prefer to say his steward.” Katherine looked sharply at the young man. “Or have you also given up on him?”

“Never,” Tom vowed. His voice trembled a little. “Never. Till I see his body.”

Katherine nodded, satisfied, and walked on. She wore custom-made pointed buckle shoes, very old-fashioned; they crunched on the gravel. His grandmother was so light he thought a slight breeze might have knocked her over. Yet when she spoke, her voice was iron.

“Our task is to ensure that you appear credible,” she said. “From now on, you must be a man, Thomas; nothing you say, nothing you do, must distract from it.”

They had turned past a wall of gloriously flowering clematis and were back at the house.

“You are staying at a hotel?”

“Yes,” he replied, surprised at the question.

“Take an apartment; something magnificent,” she said. “I will pay for it. You are not a guest in Paris, no tourist. Call me this afternoon when you have found somewhere; I will speak to Foche.”

She smiled radiantly at him.

“And after that,” she said sweetly, “you and I will go out to dinner.”

“Somewhere very public.”

“Exactly.” Katherine nodded. “You are learning, my dear.”

“I trust it meets your approval, Monsieur?”