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Caroline Addams, not knowing that she had been treated by Pierre to a greater degree of friendliness than almost every other female in England, was also without knowledge of Pierre’s reputation. She only knew that he was extremely handsome, curiously reticent and maddeningly intriguing.
“Human,” she said aloud, walking into the drawing room. “That’s what I want to see. Some sort of human emotion. I want to see him off his stride. And I want to be the one who causes his dishevelment.”
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Pierre smiled wanly, then returned to the drinks table to refill his glass. “All this time, wasted.” He turned to his father. “If you knew what I was thinking all these years—and how you knew I shall not be so silly as to ask, considering that you know everything—why didn’t you tell me? All these long years I’ve been warring with myself, trying to banish my love for my mother, trying to understand how human beings can be so fickle, so devious. And you knew—you knew!”
André put his arm around his son. “I must confess, I have known the whole truth for less than two years. It took me that long to figure out the reason for your defection, as I had taught you to hide your tracks very successfully. I had thought to tell you the truth then, but deep inside I was just the least bit put out that you could believe Quinton’s obvious lies, and I made up my mind to wait until you came to your senses. And, never fear, you never stopped loving your mother. I see the flowers you order placed on her grave every week, and I’ve watched you when you visit the cemetery.
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