Judy’s eyes widened. The shock of it rushed through the pit of her stomach. So . . . she was right? Montfort, too—Montfort, who’d rejected her . . . loved Sophie?

“My father hated Hugh Montfort. Mother would never do that.”

While Tom blustered, Judy tried to collect her emotions. If Sophie would date Hugh, she really hadn’t loved Pierre.

“It’s quite true. They dined in the village last night.”

“In St.-Aude?”

“It was a romantic engagement,” Katherine added relentlessly. “They were holding hands. Courting.”

Tom didn’t want to believe her. He felt sick.

“Who told you such a thing?”

“The proprietor of the restaurant. And my friend Mme de Gres, who happened to be there that night with her daughter.”

Katherine’s reedy voice spoke with total certainty.

“Tom—if she would bring him to your father’s village, and parade him before your father’s friends—how long before she moves him into his house? Into my son’s house?” she added for good measure. She walked across the room to him. “You are his heir, his protector.” Katherine placed her hand on his arm. “You must do something. . . .”

Judy watched in fascination as Tom shrugged it off. The disbelief in his face had shifted to rage. He was like Sophie in that, she thought detachedly; Pierre would never let his emotions show.

“Oh, I will do something.” His young voice, so angry. So hurt. “Watch.”

Katherine sank into a chair in the corner of the apartment as her grandson picked up the phone.

“Room 612,” he snapped when it was answered. “Stockton? This is Tom Massot. I agree to your terms. Fax the contract to me at the apartment. Yes, right away. I want to be installed in that office this afternoon. Can you do it that fast? Good.”

Judy exchanged a glance with Katherine; the old lady never flinched, but her eyes were glittering with excitement. She almost shuddered; one wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of that woman.

Tom was punching more buttons.

“Delors? This is M. Massot. I will be taking possession of the château today, Delors. Mme Massot will be moving out. Have all the staff start packing her personal effects immediately.” There was a pause; he reddened. “Do as I say, damn your eyes, if you want to keep your position! Do you understand me . . . ? Very well. The moving vans will arrive at six p.m. Be sure that none of Mme Massot’s things remain behind, not so much as a locket.”

He slammed the receiver down.

“Judy, can you arrange the removal vans?”

“But . . .” She thought it behooved her to say something. “Honey, didn’t you say she’d been to see you? That she was trying to reconcile?”

“She’s dating my father’s rival,” Tom said flatly. “A man he hated. If she wanted to reconcile with me, that was not the way to go about it.”