“What, mother? You think that somehow you were qualified to come in and take over the company, but I wasn’t? You don’t have any business experience; you didn’t even go to university.”

Sophie flushed deeply.

“I was studying at Oxford. What made you think that you would be my superior?”

“Well,” she said, carefully, wounded. “You weren’t exactly studying very hard, sweetheart. I didn’t think you were mature enough . . .”

“If anybody’s showed immaturity, it’s you.” Tom struggled to control himself; he ticked off the points on his fingers. “You declare him dead. You defy his wishes. You denigrate me. You embarrass the family. While you’re still in mourning you start an affair—no, don’t say anything, I know it all.”

“I didn’t sleep with him!”

Tom winced. “Please. As if I want to know. You romanced him while wearing black for Papa. And then, then,” he said, “as soon as six months ticks off the clock, off goes the black. I suppose my father isn’t worth a year’s respect? He gave you everything.”

“Tom—”

“I’m not finished.” He looked at her and his eyes were flint. “You then crown it all by debasing House Massot with that little party. You give our jewels away for free, and you show up, in front of all Paris, in pink—pink! Like Father didn’t matter. And you are wearing a dress that’s practically indecent.”

“Indecent?”

“Designed to show off your cleavage. Mother, you’re thirty-nine ,” he said with withering distaste.

“It most certainly was not indecent. It was empire waisted—”

“Well, you embarrassed me. Again. As though you hadn’t learned from the disaster of your last lover. You laid us open to all of it.”

Sophie struggled with herself and regained a little control.

“Tom, I love you,” she said. “I did all this for you. You have to believe that.”

He sighed. “I wish I could, Maman, I really do. But I think this was some kind of midlife crisis on your part.” Tom sat down in a chair opposite her and looked at her gravely.

“I want you to come home. Back to the château. Your rooms are waiting.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea right now,” he said.

“But why isn’t it, Tom?” The tears were threatening again. “We can work this out.”

“I don’t think we can. Whatever you may believe, I am an adult, Maman. I am going to look after my interests and Father’s interests, where House Massot is concerned.”

“There’s another three years—”

“No, there isn’t. It will shortly be no longer your concern.”

Sophie blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tom shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Look, of course I love you. I’ll always love you,” he said. “But at the moment I’m afraid I don’t like you very much.”