“Au revoir, Marie,” Judy said.

“Il faut dire ‘adieu,’ ” Françoise sneered.

“Pas du tout,” Judy corrected her. “Je reviens.”

Marie started to say something, but her gloating friend dragged her away. Judy pulled the grille and pressed the button for the top floor; she could hear the breathless gossiping starting, a low hum, as the creaking machinery began to haul her upwards.

Oh yes, there was no doubt about it. Sophie knew. The little chit of a girl, Celine Bousset, was sitting bolt upright in front of her office, a look of defiance on her unimpressive face. Judy wanted to ask her if she had been the one to tell, but decided against it. She would not waste time, would not be caught bandying words with secretaries while security was summoned to haul her from Pierre’s company.

There was only one woman worth speaking to.

Judy opened the door to Sophie’s office without bothering to knock; she closed it behind her, and then stood in the middle of the room, facing her.

Sophie Massot looked her over, taking in the coat and handbag.

“Sit down,” she said.

Judy stayed where she was; she tilted out her chin.

“I think not,” she said. “Let’s make it short, shall we? I’ve got things to do.”

“And that’s all you’ve got to say? No apology? No excuse?”

Judy laughed. “Apology? For what?”

“For sleeping with somebody else’s husband, for a start,” Sophie said coldly. “Of course, I now know you were nothing special, just one in a long line of girls. I daresay he had you on a schedule. Did you have to coordinate dates with the other women?”

Judy’s face flamed; the barb struck home.

“At least none of us coordinated with you,” she said.

“I’m disappointed, Judy.” Sophie thought she was such a cool cucumber; Judy loathed her. “I would have thought you would have too much spirit, too much individuality to be part of such a production line. Being in a harem is so terribly dull.”

Judy fought back.

“Maybe there were others—”

“Apparently there’s no maybe about it.”

“At the time, I didn’t know.” Her lip curled. “I was as in the dark as you, Sophie—well, almost.”

“You certainly knew there was a wife and child.”

“Don’t come over all virtuous with me,” Judy snapped. “Please. You married him when you knew next to nothing about him. Oh, I’m sure it was his sparkling personality that attracted you. Nothing to do with the huge castle and millions of francs.”

“Pierre had a family.”

“I loved him,” Judy said, drawing herself up. She spoke proudly, looking Sophie full in the face. “That’s what you don’t seem to get. I loved him. We had passion. And I wasn’t just another girl. I was with him for years. He gave me my flat. . . .”