“But I am forgetting my manners.” Herr Brandt bowed to Hugh. “Herr Montfort, you are welcome here, also. If Mme Massot trusts you . . .”

He didn’t sound wildly enthusiastic.

“Thank you, sir. May I sit down?”

Hugh was waved to a seat; Sophie sat with him on a low-slung leather couch, which he found uncomfortable. On the other hand, Frau Brandt’s coffee was delicious—strong, and with a hint of cardamom. The Brandts nestled together opposite them, across a table of smoked glass; Hugh saw them clutching each others’ withered hands, and hoped that he and Sophie would wind up like that; other than the decor, perhaps, it was an engaging picture.

“We have come to make you a business proposal,” he said.

“I feared as much.”

Sophie and Hugh exchanged glances.

“The answer is no, Herr Montfort.”

“I see. May I ask why?”

The old man shook his head. “I have taken to reading the papers, sir, in the last couple of years. I have read of you, and your firm. And I have seen pictures of some of the . . . pieces,” he added disdainfully. “You will excuse me, but Gertrud and I do not wish to be involved in selling—forgive me—such ugliness. There are many women in the world today who do not even know what a parure is, who will wear tin alloys that masquerade as gold. . . .”

“Some of those necklaces were made of chicken wire,” Gertrud added, appalled. “Really, Mr. Montfort—how could you sell such things?”

Hugh was slightly taken aback. They made it sound like he’d been selling drugs.

“I wanted to make money,” he said flatly. “And I divorced my job from my personal taste in jewellery, such as it is. Mayberry reflected my wish to make money for my shareholders, some of them pensioners relying on dividend income.”

They seemed unconvinced. But he was relaxing; this was, after all, a meeting, and meetings were what he was good at.

“My personal taste and yours may differ,” he said. “My home, for example, uses more antiques. . . .”

Gertrud giggled, a little shamefacedly.

“We used to, but now we want comfort,” she said. “But never does it hurt our jewels, Mr. Montfort.”

“And my own taste there is entirely the same as yours. In fact, I believe that you are the preeminent artists working in stones and precious metals today.”

“We are,” Heinrich said simply. “There is no question.”

Hugh bowed slightly. “When I wanted to buy House Massot, I visited the showrooms that Sophie had redesigned. I knew of the quality of your designs, of course, but once I saw them properly displayed, I was entranced. I bought a piece myself, even though I took a significant risk that it might make it into the business press and hurt my bid. And even though . . . ,” his eyes slid towards Sophie, “I had no woman in my life to give it to.”

Their eyes lit up with interest.

“Which piece?” Heinrich asked.