Page 141 of Perfume Girl

I caught her subtle nod as she walked into a room. I followed her, feeling like this encounter might in some way vindicate me. A woman who had endured life’s cruelest blows would have empathy for others…an ability to see both sides.

She’d led me into a spacious bedroom. Though the drinks trolley was out of place.

“My son informed me you are no longer together.” She walked over to the drinks trolley and poured herself a Scotch. “Want one?”

“No, thank you.” Saying it was too early would be rude. “I need to speak with Astor,” I said. “I want to explain something.”

Her gaze settled on my ledger. “My daughter told me you stole something from them.” She took a sip from her glass.

“It’s a misunderstanding.”

“I see.”

“Astor grew up here?” I asked softly.

“Of course.”

“You have a beautiful home.”

Her expression changed. “Circumstances were not kind to us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I looked around wondering if this was where it had happened. It wasn’t just the chill in the air…it was the way Mrs. Beauregard glanced at me, as though sensing I knew more. She’d stayed in this house, in this room, prolonging the agony.

What happened in here?

“Why was Astor sent away?” The words slipped out in a whisper.

“When you have children, Raquel, you do whatever it takes to protect them. But when one of them falters you are left with a dilemma that will affect you for the rest of your life. Everyone suffers.”

“I’m sorry you went through that.”

She swallowed, hiding the pain. “I was powerless.”

“Astor…”

“My beautiful boy was taken from me. I should have protected him. Should have told them what really happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I failed him. That’s why I refused to sell this place all the time he was away. I believed he’d come home and I would make up for his lost childhood. I was forbidden to have any contact with him. With myownson.” Bitterness weighed heavily in her words. “And I agreed to it for his sake.”

My heart ached for her.

“When he did return he was not the boy who had slipped from my arms. He was changed irrevocably.” She shook her head. “He refuses to come into this house.” Her sadness was reflected in her gaze. “He’ll visit his beloved horses and then he always asks me to meet him in the garden.”

“What happened in here, Mrs. Beauregard?” I stepped closer.

“When you marry someone you’re not thinking of the children you’ll have, you’re thinking of yourself and how the other person makes you feel.”

“That makes sense,” I said softly.

“I didn’t know he was violent. After we married…”

“Your husband hurt you?”

Her sorrowful gaze rose to meet mine. “I never thought I’d become so lonely.”

I looked around her self-imposed prison.