Silence. They stared at her, mockingly; there was a low hum of derision. Surely the woman had finally lost her mind?

And then the door swung open, and he walked confidently down the aisle to the podium.

For the first second there was nothing but shock. And then, pandemonium.

“Yes, you in the front,” Pierre said. He saw Judy in his peripheral vision, hands folded demurely in her lap. She had done a good job. The thin crowd had filled, as more and more reporters burst into the conference. He had taken question after question, deftly fielding them all. Kidnap. Imprisonment. Torture. Escape. He had no idea what had happened to poor Gregoire, perhaps it was Russian mafia revenge. Yes, he would cooperate with the gendarmes. He wanted answers as to why they had not protected his dear friend.

Judy smiled softly; it was her Pierre again, the man she had known and worshipped—distinguished, battle-scarred, but utterly in control. He was even enjoying himself.

“Why did you stay at Miss Dean’s? Is it true you two were having a relationship?”

“That’s a scurrilous rumour. I have been faithful to my wife. There are those who take great pleasure in spreading lies about those who are not there to defend themselves.” He glanced at Judy, sitting there prim as a nun. “Miss Dean is one of the few people I trust.”

“Why didn’t you go back to your château?”

Ah, the moment he had been waiting for. Pierre lowered his head and spoke in a heavy, hopeless tone.

“All that sustained me in those dark years was the thought of my wife and my little boy,” he said. “I loved and believed in them, and I waited for the day when I could be close to them again. I knew they would stay strong for me.” He allowed his eyes to brim, then brushed away a tear as if angry. “That didn’t happen. I discover that my wife had me declared dead, and has married again. My son has sold my company. I may wind up in a court battle with my own family. It hurt me so much that at first I didn’t know if I could face them.”

The press went berserk; he could not hear through the shouting match of questions, and he selected one man at the front. “Yes.”

“Are you going to try to get your wife back?”

“Well, that’s up to her, of course. I gather people have told Sophie lies about my conduct while we were married.” Pierre looked soulfully into the camera. “If you can hear this, darling, it’s still true. I pray we can rebuild our family. I married you in the eyes of God, and I am still here. Sophie—it’s time to come home.”