“So, what was the quarrel you had with Judy?” he repeated. “You can understand that I need to know.”

Sophie hesitated. “Well—that she felt I was usurping your place in the office,” she lied. “She didn’t think it was right that I took over, being just a wife. She was jealous because she was a professional woman, and I’d just inherited the corner office.” Like all the best lies, that one had an element of the truth to it.

“I can get over it. And I’m sure she will too.” She allowed herself to feel one moment more of anger—how Judy would triumph ... grabbing the son where she’d failed with the father, and Sophie would be forced to help her.

But I won’t let Judy dictate my actions, she decided; I don’t want to give her that power. The child was Tom’s baby. She would love it as she would love any child he might have.

In the end, Judy would learn—a baby changes everything. And if she loved it, she would stop mentioning its grandfather. It’d be weird; Sophie almost laughed—when had her family not been weird?

“That’s everything?” He looked skeptical.

“That’s enough, don’t you think?” Sophie deflected the question. “Tom, you should go home tonight. Talk to Judy. Decide what the two of you are going to do. Even if you don’t get married, you’ll want joint custody, and you should offer her complete financial support, her own apartments in the château . . .”

Tom thought of Polly—and his baby.

“I’ll propose,” he said, heavily. “I want my baby to know his father.”

“Talk it through with her first.” Sophie kissed him on the cheek. “And I will go home and tell your grandmother my good news.”

“Good luck with that.” Tom grinned.

“It has to be done. And we must remember her attitude is only from loyalty to her son. You’ll understand that love—soon.”

“I’ll get a taxi. I’ll go straight back home.”

“I think that’s best; call me when you two have discussed things.”

Tom hugged his mother. “I love you, Maman.”

“I love you too,” Sophie said, and her heart soared with happiness. Never mind Katherine, never mind Judy Dean. She had her child back—with Tom and Hugh, Sophie felt she could take on anything.

Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Judy savoured the moment. It was finally happening. A Massot was offering her the world. His hand—his name. Her gaze on Tom was feverish, bitter, and triumphant.

“Judy, please.” He was pleading with her, the little bastard—begging. I despise him, she thought; he’s not Pierre, he’s nothing. “We’re going to have a child . . .”

“I’m going to have a child.” She shrugged. “Or maybe an abortion. I haven’t decided yet.”

“My God, you can’t,” he said.