“I’ve spent over a month here with Hugh. We—we’re in love, darling. Last night he proposed to me.”

“And you accepted.”

“Yes.”

“And you were going to tell me—when?”

“I wanted you to call me. If you hadn’t—in a day or so.”

The happiness of a few moments earlier seeped away from him. Tom thought of his father, and felt a black pit of despair come up from nowhere and engulf him. A chill wind blew through the plum orchard, and he shivered.

“I can’t accept him, Mum.”

“I understand that. But you will.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come—right now.”

“Oh, Tom!”

There was the disappointment in her voice. He struggled with himself.

“Look—I don’t want you to see this bloke, much less marry him. I still think Papa might be alive.”

“Darling—”

“We won’t get into that now. But I do know one thing. Even if you do marry him, I’ll still love you. You’ll always be my mum. And we’ll see each other some time soon. Just—just not now.” A tear rolled down Tom’s cheek, and he brushed it off, angrily, glad he was alone. “That good enough?” he asked, gruffly. No way did he want his mother to hear his voice crack.

“Yes.” She was teary, too. “Yes, sweetheart—my darling. That’s fine, for now. I love you, Tom.”

“Me too, Mum,” Tom said, hanging up. Then he put his head in his hands, and surrendered to his private grief.

Judy sighed with relief. It had been a long and brutal day, and she was thankful to be turning into the long drive of the château. The last golden leaves of the oaks were tumbling to the ground; the real cold of winter was setting in, and she was looking forward to a hot bath and a blazing fire in the drawing room.

Tom was being extra-polite lately. She was starting to feel hopeful on that front. All the humiliation would be worth it if she could come out of this Mrs. Tom Massot.

Judy indulged in a pleasant little daydream as the tires of her BMW crunched on the gravel of the château’s drive.Yes.That was perfect. It was the way she’d finally be revenged on the lot of them. She’d marry the son, take over the business—Tom was supremely easy to manipulate. Once the honeymoon period was over, she could do it, no problem.

Let that old bitch Katherine gnash her teeth; she’d be dead soon anyway.

No more humiliation. No more being the loser in love.

Judy was sick of second place.

I’m going to do it, she told herself. I’m going to make him propose. It’s going to happen tonight.