“When I first went to Massot, I didn’t know they were all talking about me and Judy. Judy befriended me. She wanted a kick-back from Gregoire, and she wanted to turn the knife.” Sophie sighed. “And perhaps she was curious. For what it’s worth, I believe that in a sick, obsessive way, she truly loved your father. . . . Or at the very least, was infatuated by him. She is much younger than I am.”

“But she came on to me,” Tom cried, agonized. He had tried to hold it in, but his mother’s words ripped through his heart. “I dated her . . . my father’s mistress ... Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t you see that I couldn’t?” Sophie asked, her eyes filling with tears. “Don’t you see that, Tom? You love your father so much . . . and you were always accusing me of betraying his wishes, and you . . .”

“I’m sorry, Maman.” Tom turned away so he wouldn’t cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.You were loving.You were loyal. I tried to warn you not to date Judy, but I couldn’t give you the true reason without shattering the past . . . the way mine had been.”

He sat down heavily and put his head in his hands.

“She played me like a violin.”

“And me too.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t father her baby.”

Sophie sighed. “Love, the baby is innocent. It’s not the baby’s fault.”

“I know. And it won’t affect how I feel about the child. But you see why I can’t marry her. Not even for the baby’s sake.”

Sophie hugged him.

“Yes, darling, I do see that.” She kissed his hair—such a man now, so strong, but still, and always, her baby. “But we’ll fight for that child, and we’ll get through this. Our little family is still here.”

She pulled away; outside the lead-paned windows she could see Hugh walking under the willow tree.

“And I’m glad, Tom, in a way. I’m glad you know. Because now everything’s out in the open. And at last, there are no more secrets.”

Pierre sat in the warmth of the hired car. And nobody glanced his way. Not one of them: not his son, not his wife, not the Englishman. They emerged, from his château, laughing and smiling; the fat American had already drove off.

He watched his wife and the Englishman bid farewell to his little son. Of course, Thomas had grown up. Tom bore the stamp of his father on every inch of his face.

But there was no loyalty in his soul.

Rage washed through him. The loss of control, the visceral feelings it evoked, shocked him.

He was back. And all those who had betrayed him would soon know it.

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

The day started like any other.