“If you will back Mayberry’s offer for the stock, we will now no longer dissolve Massot. Our plan was simply to occupy your stores and use your supply pipelines. However, after what I have seen, I am now prepared to guarantee Massot’s survival, for five years at least, as a division of Mayberry jewels—our high-end division. Massot will have a corner in every Mayberry store, selling a few select pieces. We would continue to employ your talented designers. And I can find a position for you, yourself, in terms of design and decor for our worldwide stores. Thus your family would still be involved with House Massot.”

Montfort sat back.

“Well,” Sophie said. “Let me make you a counteroffer, Mr. Montfort.”

He spread his hands. “I don’t think I can do any better, Mme Massot. . . .”

“I will buy Mayberry,” Sophie said. “I’m sure I can get financing for such a bid after our successful relaunch. I will turn Mayberry into our young adult brand, because I feel the company is greatly overvalued. It’s a fad, and fads change. Mayberry may, however, provide us with a good network for future lower-end jewellery, or any ready-to-wear mass lines we may produce under another name than Massot. Or our perfumes, perhaps.” She smiled briskly. “You should take me up on it now. After you fail at the stockholders’ meeting, your reputation, and your company’s share price, will suffer. Market psychology, you see.”

Hugh laughed. “You are very bold, Madame. I admire your spirit.”

“Thank you.”

He stood. “Thank you for your time.”

Sophie nodded; the exquisite pendant at her neck glinted against her warm skin. She was no green girl with no ideas of her own, no experience of life.To him she was the picture of elegance and bravery.

He paused. “I would want you to believe that I came here today because I was impressed. Because I admire what you are trying to do. In fact, once we have taken over this company, I can do what I like with it, including keeping the Massot brand active, as I just described. But I wanted to offer you something, you personally.”

“And I thank you for the kind thought.” Sophie, at last, gave him a very small smile. “But I think you will find we can take care of ourselves.”

She opened her drawer and took out an envelope, an invitation to the party, with the name left blank. There were thirty of those, just in case, for extras, or employees who wanted to attend.

Sophie removed the top from her Montblanc pen and carefully wrote in Montfort’s name. He saw she had it correct, The Hon. Hugh Montfort, and written in a delicate, cursive hand.

“What is this?” he asked.

“If you are free, a little party we are having on Friday evening. In the rue Faubourg showroom.” Sophie smiled. “I think it may surprise you.”