Tom was trying not to worry about his mother; he could lose himself in Judy’s taut, tight body. And Judy was trying to shake off that slightly dirty feeling. Tom’s remark didn’t help, nor how much he looked like Pierre; what had attracted her, now repelled her. As soon as Tom was more than theory, she had recoiled from him.

And what did he mean by “perform”? She was good at PR! She deserved half a million, and not because she was somebody’s girlfriend. . . . Pierre’s, or now Tom’s.

But that led her back in a circle. Judy could not afford those thoughts. Yes, Pierre had lied to her. Judy was not his only other woman. He had demeaned her, why should she care? And so what if Tom was his son? She was not related to Tom, and she owed Pierre less than nothing.

But her feelings . . .

No. Judy physically shook her head as she moved on top of Tom. She wouldn’t go there. She had set her course, against smug Sophie and that bastard Hugh Montfort, and even against the memory of Pierre. In the end, she would triumph. She would be mistress of Château des Étoiles. She’d win, and they’d all choke. And serve them right, too.

Judy bucked against Tom. She gritted her teeth and arched her neck in an approximation of passion—that way, she didn’t have to look at him. Instead, she took in the elegance of her surroundings.

She’d made it to the château!

Sophie had been chatelaine here, and soon she, Judy, would replace her. It was a revenge she’d waited years for.

Worth a few sacrifices!

“Have another cup of tea,” Père Sabin pressed her.

“Thank you, mon Père, but no,” Sophie said, delicately trying to get rid of her PG Tips bag without him noticing.

“A biscuit then?” he asked. “Garibaldi? Rich Tea? McVities?”

She shook her head, suppressing a smile. The old priest was so determined to make her feel at home, but for him, Britain was still stuck in 1981.

“What is the trouble this time, then, my dear?” he asked.

Sophie sighed. She didn’t really know where to start. She felt somewhat foolish.

“Perhaps I can help,” Fr. Sabin said. “You are distressed because your son and Mme Katherine have sold Pierre’s company, and because you want to start a romance with M. Montfort.You fear this will further estrange your son from you. Is it not so, Sophie?”

She was shocked, but when she looked up, Sabin’s eyes were calm, and there was an analytical glint to them. She forebore to ask him how he knew. He’d reminded her before; this was a small village, and she had taken Hugh to Fruits de la Mer. . . .

“Yes. I know I can’t give Tom a veto power over my love life.”

Her old friend nodded.