Glitter (Glitter Duology #1)(58)

“Are you certain you can’t accept account credits for your Glitter? It’d be so much more convenient,” the duchess says.

Not yet good or bad, but I don’t have the answer she wants. “I do wish I could, Your Grace. Certainly it would be easier for me as well. But you know how the French are. They’ll have nothing to do with our”—I look about, then lean forward in a show of secrecy, though I don’t lower my voice at all—“dirty money.”

“Indeed,” the duchess says, rolling her eyes. “I’m simply having trouble getting my hands on the cash. It’s not the funds, of course—Sonoma Inc. has had a banner year and bonuses this quarter were healthy. But I was lunching with His Grace, Duke Florentine—the CFO, you understand—and he commented that the palace bank has been exchanging euros for palace residents at a far higher rate than usual. He’s concerned that if it keeps up, they’ll have to raise the exchange rate. Certainly I wouldn’t want to be part of that problem.”

My mouth is as dry as a desert and an ocean of blood roars in my ears. Without knowing of the scope of my business, the duchess can’t have put the pieces together—despite mentioning them in the same sentence—but my siphoning of over a million euros from the economy of Sonoman-Versailles has been noticed. It’s not enough to truly disrupt it—but even that notice makes my fingers tremble.

I need to pull out an additional four million in the next month, and I’ve already attracted the CFO’s attention. This couldn’t even have happened if the exchange rate of credits hadn’t already been so damnably inflated, but that’s another problem entirely. In my mind I see my profits draining away, like ink splashed by water, trickling down the page. I cannot let this happen.

But the duchess hasn’t finished. “Perhaps…perhaps you can think of a way to solve this little dilemma. Merely until the market stabilizes, of course.” There’s an edge of desperation in her voice, a pleading in her eyes, and I realize exactly why she’s asking me.

She’s hooked.

The chill that engulfed me a moment ago ignites into a wave of heat so quickly I fear I might faint dead away.

But the answer emerges with startling clarity as I remember my first attempt to raise money. I laugh casually, and before I’ve spoken at all, the mood around me lightens. It seems Duchess Darzi isn’t the only one paranoid about her ability to get her fix. “It’s ever so simple,” I say. “I used to do this as a child in Versailles, and I can’t imagine it would be any more difficult here. You’ve a secretary, no? Or a trusted maid?”

“I do,” the duchess says, the hope shining in her eyes making a sickening sludge of shame well up in my belly.

“Send her or him on an errand to Paris. And then give them a piece of jewelry you no longer want. There’re all sorts of shops in Paris that will buy used jewels. A decent diamond necklace would set you up for weeks, wouldn’t it? Surely the exchange rate will have settled by then.” I reach out to grasp her gloved hands and pull her a little closer. “Neither His Grace Duke Florentine nor His Grace your husband need ever know. And on top of that,” I add with a devious smile, “you can claim to have lost the piece and get your husband to buy you a new one, more suited to your tastes. Economic stimulation.”

The duchess looks at me with wide eyes, and for a moment, I think she’s appalled. I freeze, holding very still as I will her to accept this rather underhanded method. Then she breaks into a grin and waggles her finger at me. “Shameless,” she says. “I absolutely adore it.”

“And, of course,” I say, reaching into my pannier pocket, “I fully trust in your ability to carry out such an endeavor, so you may have double today, and pay me next week.”

“Bien s?r!” she says, seriously now. “I’m always timely with my accounts.”

“I would never think otherwise,” I say with a smile, my heart easing back toward its regular cadence. “That reminds me, I suppose you should all hear this,” I say, stepping back to allow all of the ladies present to join our tête-à-tête. “At any time, you may settle your account with my new man of affairs, Saber.”

“Is that the luscious thing who’s been trailing you all evening?” I nearly blanch at Lady Cabral, who has stepped forward and looks rather…hungry.

“Unless there’s a second man I’m unaware of,” I say stiffly.

She doesn’t seem to notice. “What sort of staff is he?” she asks, plumping up her cleavage in the mirror.

I’ve never liked Lady Cabral much, but I now find that I’m holding myself back to keep from flying at her, fingernails first. “He’s my secretary.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She turns and gives me a suggestive grin. “Is one allowed to partake?”

What? “No! No, indeed not,” I snap. “You’re married,” I add softly, as though that were the substance of my dismay.

“As though that matters. So you’re partaking exclusively?”

“No. I—of course not.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Your Grace. We all do it. What good is having a handsome young man at your beck and call if you can’t have first dibs?” She straightens and twitches her skirts back into place. “Don’t let His Highness find out,” she says, plucking a pot of rouge from my hand and sweeping toward the door. “I think I’ll go settle up now.” About half of the inhabitants of the retiring room exit in a rush of whispers.