“I can do whatever I like.” She withdrew a packet of Gauloises from her Donna Karan jacket, enjoying his consternation, and lit up, daring Tom to say a word. It was a new habit, forced on her from stress at work. Now, Judy watched with relish as he shrank back, dismayed.

“That’s not good for the baby,” he muttered.

“That’s none of your concern.” She turned away. “You weren’t so bloody solicitous last time I saw you. Before you ran off to your maman.”

Tom struggled with his anger and fear. Now that he was here, he absolutely loathed her. She was threatening to kill their child. And this was the woman he was meant to marry?

“I just needed a little time to think. Judy—be reasonable.” He couldn’t stand to beg her, yet he must. “Isn’t this what you wanted—didn’t you tell me, I’d led you on?” Each word ripped at him. “So—I can offer you everything. Marriage, the name, the house.” He weakly attempted levity. “All the jewels you can wear.”

“And what does your precious mother think of that?”

Tom gritted his teeth and ignored the insult. “She spoke warmly of her grandchild. She tells me there is nothing that cannot be patched up—you and I, you and her—she wanted me to propose. For the child’s sake, we can make a family.” He paused. “Judy, she said the past was in the past.”

Judy laughed, wildly. Tom wondered if she were a little drunk.

“If you don’t want to marry me, I can still look after you. You can move into the château permanently; I will assign you an entire wing and set up a trust fund. You could live off that income. We will share custody of our baby and at least we could live in the same house. . . .”

“And parties?” Judy flashed him a lazy, contemptuous smile. “Would I be the hostess? What’s the precedence at Château des Étoiles? You’re the young king ... and if I don’t want to wed you? I won’t stand behind that old bitch Katherine. Or Sophie Massot.”

“Don’t speak of my grandmother in that way, Judy, and it’s Sophie Montfort now.”

“So it is.” She tossed her head. “And I could be the new Mme Massot.”

“If you want to,” Tom said, clearly hoping the answer was no.

“You know, Tom, your grandmother has been a bitch to me. She’s certainly been a bitch to Sophie. Something you don’t choose to notice, I suppose.”

He recoiled.

“So I’ll call her whatever the hell I please. And if you want to stop me from aborting your brat, you’re not exactly in any position to lay down the law. Are you?” Judy was laughing. “It seems that for once, in this fucked-up family, I hold all the cards.”