“What is it?”

“A sample invitation. They are being hand-delivered right now, across Paris, to four hundred of the most aristocratic ladies in the city. Old money, and the best families.”

Judy flushed. Was her department working behind her back?

“Who gave you that list of names?” she asked casually.

Sophie shrugged. “Oh—they are just out of my address book, you know.”

“Of course,” Judy acknowledged, hating her.

“Contacts of Pierre’s,” Sophie said, making it worse.

Judy broke open the envelope, which was sealed with red wax, bearing the logo of House Massot, the eagle and diamond. A stiff cream card, with embossed black letters, requesting the pleasure of the company of Baron and Baronne de Chantilly. Inside the envelope there was also a small package wrapped in pale green tissue paper, shot through with tiny eagles in gold. It was addressed, with a tiny handwritten label, in beautiful calligraphy, to Madame la Baronne.

“Our new wrapping paper,” Sophie said. She sounded childishly excited, Judy thought. “You like it?”

“Very nice.”

“Open it up.”

Judy obediently peeled off the label and unwrapped the tissue paper. A glittering object fell out; it was a brooch, a beautiful piece shaped like a leaf, the rich, almost orange colour of twenty-four-karat gold, effortlessly chic and simple. Judy admired the workmanship; it was impossible not to. There was a bale on the reverse, discreetly hidden, so it could be turned into a pendant.

She could think of hundreds of ways to wear the design. Conventionally, or round the hat; holding an Hermès scarf in place; funky, in the band of a hat, or on a belt. It was a gorgeous and very practical piece of jewellery.

“And . . . you have sent every one of these ladies a twenty-four-karat brooch?” Judy asked, disbelievingly.

Sophie nodded proudly. “Of course, not everybody has got a leaf. The Brandts created twenty different moulds; each piece is a limited edition of twenty. Every design is nature-themed. We have bees, lilies, roses, moons, suns, fish. . . .”

Judy made herself say “Everything classic.”

“Absolutely. I think the swan is my favourite.”

“That’s quite an invitation,” Judy said. Her mouth felt dry. “How much did it cost?”

Sophie winced. “You don’t want to know.”

Oh, but I do, Judy thought.

“I suppose you must have your secrets,” she said lightly. “But, Sophie . . . all this stuff has to be costing a bomb.”

“We must spend money to make money.” Sophie Massot’s eyes were determined. “The company was falling apart.”

And I think you just pushed it over the edge, Judy mused.

“I wonder . . . I have a crunching migraine today.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Would you mind if I took a few hours off?”

“Go ahead.” Sophie nodded. “We’ll need you rested.”

“Thank you.” Judy’s hand hovered over the leaf. “May I borrow this? It might be useful for PR.”