Chapter 54

Pierre turned to the butler. “Close the door, and make sure that we are not disturbed.”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

Sophie looked at Judy. How did he have the face to do it? To bring her here? She bit her lip; rage surged in her chest. But her son was gripping her hand. So she said nothing.

Katherine was the first to speak.

“Welcome,” she said, in ringing tones. “Welcome, welcome, my love—my darling. I never believed you were gone. Never, for one second.”

Pierre walked across the room and took her hand; he gently kissed her cheek.

“My beloved Maman,” he said—and Sophie thought she saw a flash of anger in Katherine’s eyes. But no. It could not be so.

“And my son. Let me see you.”

Tom relinquished his mother’s hand and stood up. He hesitated, then hugged his father.

“My son,” Pierre repeated. “You look exactly like me.” He kissed him on both cheeks, in the French manner. “And, finally, Sophie—my beloved wife.”

Sophie was mindful of Tom. She seethed, she wanted to slap him, but instead, she turned a cool cheek to him, and let him kiss her. Then she quickly stood, and moved back a step.

He was not to touch her, beyond that. She would never again be his.

“Pierre—you are well?”

“I am. And I am refreshed in the soul to see you. I prayed, day and night, that I would see my family again. I know what has happened.” He moved back, towards the fire. “And I want you all to know that I forgive you.”

“Why is she here?”

The question burst from Tom. Sophie’s head lifted; her son’s anger startled her.

“Why is Judy Dean standing like a guest in my mother’s parlour?”

Pierre’s dark eyes narrowed.

“Because she is a guest. She is my friend.”

“She is your lover.” Tom passed a hand through his hair. “Do you know, Papa, how often I have dreamed of this day? Do you know how I have prayed—how I have longed for you? How I would have offered my soul just to have this moment? And then, for it to happen, and for you to—to ruin it. To bring that bitch of a woman into our house.” Tom’s eyes were full of angry tears. “You do not know how she has wrecked this family.”

“Tom, Tom.” Pierre glanced over the Massots; they were not reacting quite as he had expected. Perhaps it had not been a good idea to bring the slut. The boy had grown up. The women, of course, were weak; they did not object.

He tinkered with his approach.