The two women hailed a cab and went home, and Isabelle broke into sobs when she saw his room. He had truly been like the Little Prince in Saint-Exupery's book, and now he was gone to his own world, a world he never should have left. But he had given her so much joy during his brief lifetime.

She made Sophie a cup of tea, and then called Gordon, and she sounded amazingly calm. He was stunned when he heard the news. He said he'd be home that night. He didn't cry or tell her he was sorry. He said almost nothing and hung up. And Isabelle thought of calling Bill, but she knew there was no point, he was no longer there for her, and he had never met the boy. She knew she had to let Bill go. She felt she no longer had a right to call him and intrude on his life.

She and Sophie went to the funeral home that afternoon and made arrangements for him. They picked a simple white casket, and Isabelle ordered flowers, lilies of the valley and white roses, and she knew no one would come to his funeral but them, and his nurses. He had never gone to school, had no friends, and Isabelle had led a secluded life for years. They were the only ones who had known and loved him. Isabelle couldn't imagine what she would do without him. He had been not only her life and her heart, but her job for years Isabelle was crying softly, and Sophie was inconsolable when they went home. And Gordon arrived from Rome late that night, looking somber and subdued.

He went to the funeral home with Isabelle and Sophie the next day. Isabelle had asked that the casket be closed. She couldn't bear to see him that way, although he had been as beautiful in death as he had been in life. Gordon had said he didn't want to see him, which Isabelle understood. He had never been able to tolerate Teddy's frailty or illness, and although he was his father, he barely knew him. He had resisted knowing him all his life, and it was too late now.

The three of them had dinner in the dining room that night. Isabelle said nothing as Sophie and Gordon talked. No one spoke of Teddy, it was just too painful. Isabelle went to her room afterward and lay down on the bed, and all she could think of was the child she had borne whose life had always been so fragile. He was like a butterfly who had finally escaped them, and flown away. She was grateful to have loved him and known him at all.

The funeral the next day was in the chapel of their church, and the eulogy was written by a priest who never knew him, and mispronounced his name. But it was the ride to the cemetery that nearly destroyed Isabelle, she couldn't bear to leave him there and she wanted to throw herself on his casket. She touched it a hundred times before she left, and took one of the delicate white roses with her to press in a book. She felt as though she were moving underwater or recovering from another coma. She had no idea how ill she looked by the time they got home. She could hardly breathe or move. Every instant was intolerably painful.

It was late that afternoon when Gordon came into her bedroom, and frowned as he looked down at her. She was lying on her bed and her face was the color of white marble. “I don't know what's wrong with you,” he said, looking more annoyed than concerned. He was beginning to hate being around her. She always looked so ill and had for a while. “You look like we should have buried you today instead of Teddy. What's wrong with you, Isabelle?”

“I just lost my son.” Her eyes were broken as she looked at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“So did I. But you've looked like this for two months.”

“Have I? I'm sorry.” She turned her face away from him. She didn't want to see him, and wished he would leave.

“It's very hard on Sophie to see you looking like that.”

“It's very hard on me to lose my son,” she said without expression in her voice.

“We've expected this for years,” he reminded her, “although I know it's a shock, particularly after the blow to your system you had last year.” He was beginning to think now that she had never regained her health. But she was struck, as she watched him, by how totally cold and unemotional he was. No one would have believed that he had also just lost his son. He seemed more a visitor to the house than a member of the family, and certainly not the child's father. He looked at Isabelle almost with curiosity and asked her a strange question. “What are you going to do now?”

“About what?” His room? Her life? His clothes? She couldn't bear to think of it.

“Taking care of Teddy is all you've done for the past fifteen years. You can't just bury yourself with him now.”

Why not? But she didn't say the words. With any luck at all, she thought, she was truly going to die. After losing Teddy, and Bill, she had very little to live for, except Sophie. But Gordon stunned her with what he said next. “I think you should go to stay with Sophie in Grenoble when she goes back to school in two weeks. I really think it's an excellent idea. You need to get out of this house finally, and it will do you good to be with her.” What Isabelle understood instantly was that he was banishing her to the provinces so he could stay with Louise. It was a very clever plan, and so easily explained because of Teddy's death. He was brilliant.

“Are you serious?” She almost laughed at the look on his face. He seemed so solicitous, but so desperate for her to leave. He must have been terrified that, without Teddy to keep her busy, she would try to reclaim her place as his wife. “What on earth do you expect me to do there? I'm sure Sophie would be horrified, justifiably, to have me underfoot.” It was the last thing Isabelle wanted to do now.

“Well, you can't just lie around here,” he said, looking annoyed again.

“Is that what you think I do?” There was an edge to their conversation. Isabelle had had enough of the pretense and the sham they had already played out for too many years, and she wasn't going to be fobbed off now on the pretext that he thought she should be with Sophie. She was devastated by losing Teddy, but she was not going to become a nuisance to her daughter while she grieved him. She had more sense and more dignity than that. And she was too smart not to see through what he had in mind for her.

“I have no idea what you do,” he said unpleasantly, “other than take care of that child.”

“‘ That child’ was your son, and he's dead now. Have a little respect. For him. And for me.” It was the first time she had dared to speak to him like that. And he was not pleased.

“Isabelle, don't tell me how to behave. If you'll recall, I tolerated a great deal of bad behavior from you last year, around the time of your accident. And I'm not going to put up with any more nonsense from you.”

“Really?” Isabelle asked, with dangerously glittering eyes. He was coming across the line of what she could tolerate, and at an astonishing speed. “And what kind of bad behavior was that?”

“You know exactly what I mean. I put up with your affair with Bill Robinson. You were very lucky I didn't divorce you.” The weapons had just been unveiled. But for once, having lost so much, Isabelle was no longer frightened of him. With Teddy's death, Gordon had lost his hold on her. Perhaps forever, and surely for now.

“And you're very lucky that I've put up with the way you've treated me for the past twenty years, and the appalling way you treated your son for the last fifteen.” They were locked in deadly combat, Isabelle hadn't anticipated having this conversation with him so soon after Teddy's death, but she was ready for him. And she remembered what Bill had said when he left, about saving the ammunition until Gordon attacked her again, and he finally had. On the day of Teddy's funeral. It was an appalling cruelty and disrespect, but not surprising from him.

Gordon stood looking at her as though he wanted to slap her, but didn't dare. “I won't tolerate this from you. You'll find yourself in the street with your hat in your hand, Isabelle, if you're not careful.”

“You don't frighten me anymore, Gordon.” She had nothing left to lose. She didn't need to protect Teddy anymore, and she no longer cared if Gordon threw her out. It would be a blessing for her in the end if he did. “You don't frighten me at all.” He could see that she meant it.

“And where will you go if I throw you out?” He spat the words at her, and Isabelle looked remarkably calm, as her eyes met his and held firm.

“Perhaps you and the Comtesse de Ligne would be kind enough to let me stay in your apartment on the rue du Bac? I assume, if you ‘threw me out,’ she would be staying with you here?” She said it in a quiet, ladylike voice, and Gordon let out an irate roar. He sounded like a wounded lion, and he came so close to her, she could see his every pore. He was so angry, he was shaking.

“You don't know what you're talking about!” he shouted at her, stunned by what she had just said. It was a blow he hadn't expected, and for a moment, it knocked him off balance.

“Maybe not, but apparently half of Paris knows, and has for the last ten years. She called here by mistake, on New Year's Eve. I think she was drunk, but it opened my eyes to what I should have seen years ago. So don't speak to me about Bill Robinson, Gordon. He's beside the point.”

“Is he still in your life?” He had no right to know, but she told him anyway. He was staggered that she knew about Louise, and had never said a word to him.

“No, he's not. But I gather the countess is very much in yours. I assume she was in Italy with you.” He didn't admit it to Isabelle, but her assumption was accurate, and a number of people knew it. “I've been told she can't or won't marry you until her husband dies. That must be difficult for you. And what were you planning to do with me then, Gordon? How were you planning to get rid of me, other than shipping me off to Grenoble to stay with Sophie?”