Hugh kept his tone neutral. He was taking a risk. A real risk, not a business one. He was about to gamble with his heart, and if Sophie was going to shoot him down, he preferred to be as little exposed as possible.

“Please.” She waved him to a seat and sat behind the desk. “You do realize that your coming to see me will be everywhere in the next ten minutes. It’s hardly appropriate behaviour for somebody determined to mount a hostile bid.”

“It would be, if I were such a person.”

Again, Hugh delighted in the freedom of it.

“I don’t understand.”

“I told you I was not here as a representative of Mayberry. I was fired this morning.”

“What?”

He loved that look of confusion on her face.

“I was fired.”

“Is this some kind of a joke, Mr. Montfort? Because it’s in very poor taste.”

“No joke, I assure you. I was fired. I have called my broker and had him liquidate my entire holding of Mayberry stock. All intercourse between that company and myself is now at an end.”

Hugh shrugged. “So you see, I’m not here on some nefarious purpose.”

“But why?” Sophie asked. “What possible reason . . . ?”

“The excuse was your party, in fact. That I should have prevented it.”

“And how could you?”

“That, they didn’t say.” Hugh inclined his head towards her. “The party was a wonderful idea, as was your identification of your core customers; had it been a little further from the date of the shareholders’ meeting I think it would have caused me real problems. As it was, I did not anticipate any.”

“You think you would still have got the votes?”

“I would have. I must tell you, I think they still will. Although Mayberry’s own stock, my broker informs me, dropped a point on the rumour I’d been dismissed.”

He watched her bristle. She was a fighter; he loved that animal courage.

“Then thank God they fired you,” Sophie cried.

“Why, thank you.”

“Excuse me.” Sophie stood up, agitated. “I don’t mean to be discourteous, Mr. Montfort. But if our revival wouldn’t have been enough, perhaps your firing will. I can use it. I can run stories about the chaos at Mayberry, persuade the small holders that long-term their shares will suffer—”

“Of course you must try everything.” Hugh tried to let her down gently.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I believe they have already mopped up enough votes for a majority stake.”

“But that’s impossible. They’d need almost the entire independent float.”

“Yes. So perhaps I’m wrong. I hope so.” He smiled at Sophie. “For your sake, Mme Massot.”

“So you came here to let me know that you’d been sacked? So I could use it?” Sophie stopped pacing, sat down again. “Thank you, I’m most grateful.”

“No.” He shook his head.

She stared. “There’s more?”