“Shall we walk to the car?” Hugh offered her his arm. He wanted to prolong every second. She was standing right next to him, and he was already missing her.

“Thank you.” Sophie smiled at him, her gentle smile, radiant and kind; it danced behind her eyes, and seemed to come up from her very soul. “I’d like that.”

Hugh leaned forward and kissed her.

There was no question in his mind. He had to do it. She was so gorgeous, and hot, and sweet—and Hugh had wanted her for so long. Her mouth, her lips were inches from his. Hugh did not think about it. He took her in his arms, and kissed her, hard. And Sophie melted against him—didn’t struggle; just for that moment, she abandoned herself.

It was that moment that told him he had fallen in love.

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Katherine tensed; every cell in her aging body felt vital and alive. Her hands tightened on the receiver.

“Are you sure?” she said. Then she added, “Very good,” and hung up.

For a moment she sat there, revelling in it. The stupidity of the girl. To bring him here, to Pierre’s own home, to Pierre’s village. As though Katherine would not find out.

Sophie had never been right for him; that much, she was sure of.

Now, at last, the boy would know it too.

She grasped the armrest of her eighteenth-century chair and, carefully, hauled herself up. Faubert, her butler, materialized from nowhere.

“May I assist you in some way, Madame?”

“Yes,” Katherine said. “Call my driver. I am going to visit my grandson.”

Judy exchanged smiles with Katherine as the old lady swept into the drawing room. They were the thin, unpleasant grimaces of women who would never trust each other. But this was a strategic alliance, and Judy thought of herself as a careful player. Katherine Massot was fond of the grand gesture—Sophie’s party had demonstrated that—and she instinctively knew that this was something important. She moved behind Tom, possessively stroking his shoulder.

“It’s so good to see you, Katherine,” Judy said. “But do tell me—is this family business? I really wouldn’t want to intrude.”

The old woman arched her neck, a ghost of coquettishness in the motion.

“I—I really don’t know,” she said uncertainly. “It seems to bear both on the family and on the business. You’re advising us on the matter of Tom’s company, Judy . . . perhaps you ought to stay. . . .”

What an actress, Judy thought.

“If you think so,” she said lightly.

“What’s the matter, Grandmother? You look upset,” Tom said. He had an ugly sense of foreboding. His grandmother normally never stirred from the dower house before noon.

“I don’t think there’s anything for it but to say it, darling; your mother has formed an alliance with Hugh Montfort.”

“Nonsense,” Tom said, flatly.