Love in Vogue (14 page)

‘She held twenty-seven per cent of the equity, didn’t she?’ asked Miles.

‘That’s right. That leaves her sister Corinne with twenty-seven per cent. Maury has only ten per cent. Yves de Rochemort has fifteen per cent. It doesn’t look very healthy for your girlfriend.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

‘Excellent. You won’t be worried then if we advise Marchand that an agreed takeover might work better for them than trying to fight a hostile bid.’

‘Have you any predators in mind?’

‘Several. Two French. Three, maybe four, foreign. I haven’t got the whole picture yet. As far as I know, Yolande sold her stake to a private equity firm.’

‘Why didn’t she sell to her sister?’

‘Don’t quote me on this – I believe she’s going to bail out a company that’s producing a film starring her boyfriend, and the money was needed fast. Obviously her sister couldn’t raise the cash in time. As you well know, Marchand’s gearing is extremely high.’

‘Thanks, Jacques. Keep me posted, won’t you?’

Miles rang off, then dialled Marchand’s offices on the Avenue Montaigne. No, he couldn’t speak to Corinne. She had only just arrived from London. Besides, calls from Monsieur Corsley would not be put through. He slammed down the receiver and swore loudly.

‘Temper, temper,’ chided James, wagging his finger. ‘You’re still crazy about her, aren’t you?’

‘It was strictly a business call.’

James raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I shouldn’t worry. She’ll just have to hold onto her knickers and fight off the vultures. Think of all the lovely money there could be for us if she loses.’

‘Oh, bugger off.’

Miles tried to contact Corinne later that afternoon, but was outlawed again, and when he called the Avenue Foch in the evening the telephone was off the hook. By then the whole affair had reached the press, and Corinne was under siege.

Corinne sat in an armchair at Georges Maury’s Neuilly home, her eyes almost black with anger. She was furious with herself. She should have returned to Paris as soon as Yolande called to say she wanted to sell her stake in the company. Georges should never have been left to handle the negotiations alone. But she had been extremely busy in London, and it had seemed quite straightforward – desirable too. By buying her sister’s shares Corinne would have commanded the powerful position her father had enjoyed before his death. Yet it had all gone staggeringly wrong. Now she was in danger of losing his company altogether.

Georges paced up and down the salon, a glass of whisky in his hand, hardly able to look Corinne in the face. He’d done everything she had asked; discussed the proposition with Yolande, offered her the market price for her shares, then set about raising the money to pay for them. But before he had secured the capital, Yolande rang him to say she had accepted a higher offer. The treachery of it all was breathtaking.

‘Who made Yolande this offer she couldn’t refuse?’ asked Corinne in a hard voice.

‘I don’t know. They’re bearer shares as you know, and the buyer hasn’t come forward yet. Someone mentioned a private equity company. I’ve got people working on it. We ought to be able to buy them back.’

‘It’s going to cost the earth now. Surely you could have asked Yolande who she sold them to?’

‘I was too busy trying to persuade her to hold on for a while. But she was adamant. She said she needed the money at once, and anyway our offer was too low. I just couldn’t talk sense to her, Corinne. I tried so hard. Believe me, I tried.’

‘I’ll kill her! It’s because of that bastard Patrick. It must be. And where the hell
is
she?’

‘I don’t know. She’s stopped answering her phone.’

Corinne just sat, clenching and unclenching her hands. Georges went over to the sideboard and poured her a Scotch. ‘Calm down, Corinne. I’m sure we’ll be able to get the shares back. After all, what use is twenty-seven per cent to anyone?’

‘A seat on the board for a start. A strategic niche from which to lever us all out of the company.’ She sipped the drink. ‘We’re well and truly screwed. That plan to increase our holding in Elegance Hotels is dead for certain. And you must realise that I can only remain PDG now if you and Yves support me.’

‘We still love you,’ he said, smiling. ‘Come on, try to be positive. As soon as we know who’s bought the shares, we’ll buy them back. It’ll all be settled by Christmas.’

‘I don’t see how we can afford it. Our gearing is unsustainable now – who’s going to lend us any more money? I wouldn’t if I were a bank.’

‘But our profits are rising all the time. I’ll get a report out tomorrow. Now, how about London? Did the launch go well? Paul Dupuy reports excellent reactions from New York.’

Corinne managed to give a rational account of what had, in fact, been a very successful trip to London, but she kept returning to Yolande’s treachery.

‘I still don’t understand, Georges. Why did she need so much money? And so soon? She only told me it was for something important.’

He stared at his feet, afraid to look her in the eye. ‘She’s buying an American company that’s producing a film starring Patrick.’

‘
What
! She’s mad! I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it!’

‘I’m afraid it’s true. She told me herself, and I’ve never found her out in a lie.’

Corinne rose to leave. ‘I’m going home. See you in the morning, Georges.’

As he kissed her goodbye he asked what she intended to do about Yolande.

‘I never want to see her again. I hate her!’

‘But St Xavier and the apartment – she still owns half of everything.’

‘I’ll buy her out as soon as I can drag her out from under Dubuisson for five minutes. And after that, as far as I’m concerned I have no sister.’

Chapter Eight

‘I really don’t know why you’re so upset, Corinne,’ said Toinette Brozard, lighting a cigarette. ‘It’s just a storm in a teacup.’

Corinne was struggling to keep her cool. Toinette was so calm, so self-assured, sitting in the salon of the Marchand apartment on the Avenue Foch with the unshakable ease of one perfectly at home. Dressed in classic Hervy, with black-stockinged legs and dainty feet neatly encased in black court shoes, she looked every inch the society hostess who had reigned there so magnificently when Jean-Claude was alive.

‘I’m glad you haven’t changed anything,’ she remarked. ‘I always loved this room.’

‘Perhaps you were fonder of it than you were of Papa,’ suggested Corinne icily. ‘Otherwise I don’t know how you could threaten the very existence of his company.’

‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’

‘How
could
you? I know you don’t like me, but …’

‘That’s not true,’ interjected Toinette.

‘It was a perfect opportunity for revenge, wasn’t it? Buying Yolande’s shares behind my back, breaking the family control of Marchand’

‘Really, Corinne, if you haven’t anything reasonable to say, I’ll go. I thought this was a business meeting.’

‘What price do you want for Yolande’s shares?’

Toinette drew on her cigarette. At length she sighed and settled back in her armchair. ‘There’s a slight problem. They aren’t for sale. You see, Corinne, I don’t own them. I received a telephone call instructing me to buy Yolande’s shares for UVS – and I haven’t been given instructions to sell them again. You aren’t the only person who’s approached me, you know.’

Corinne glowered at her. ‘Who gave you your instructions? How did anyone know Yolande was looking for a buyer?’

‘I’m sure you’ll find out. You seem to run a very efficient pack of bloodhounds. I was astonished at how quickly they tracked me down.’

‘Laurent Dobry was the first to break the story. You ought to rotate your friends now and again, Toinette.’

So Yolande had sold her stake to UVS, the same company that had acquired Philippe’s shares three years before – and presumably still owned them. As with all bearer shares, it was sometimes impossible to ferret out the owner. It was a minor miracle that Corinne had managed to trace the threat this far, but she had a gut feeling that Toinette wasn’t her real enemy. Of course she’d be in on the action for some personal gain, but she would hardly want to take control of Marchand – that was too much like hard work. Corinne was left with a chain of businesses to run on a high amount of debt and ripe for a hostile takeover. Deadlock.

‘You own thirty per cent of UVS, don’t you?’ she asked Toinette.

‘Yes. And we’re private, so if you were thinking of a reverse takeover, it’s not going to happen.’

‘Perhaps you’d tell me what UVS intends to do with its holding in Marchand?’

‘Well, it’s not up to me,’ said Toinette, stubbing out her cigarette and immediately lighting another. She wasn’t enjoying herself; her nerves were shot, and sitting here brought back too many memories of Jean-Claude. ‘I only manage the Paris end of things, and we operate on a very loose basis. I just buy and sell as instructed. As far as I know, UVS has no plans to lobby for a seat on your board, but I’ll attend the next meeting as usual. On my own account, of course.’

  Corinne bit her lip, wishing there were some way Toinette could be removed from Marchand’s board for good.

‘Will UVS give me first option on Yolande’s shares if it decides to sell?’

‘They aren’t Yolande’s shares now,’ corrected Toinette. ‘But I’ll certainly ask for you.’

‘Do you have to be so friendly?’ snapped Corinne.

‘Darling, I rather think you’re the one who’s being hostile. I’ve just told you I’ll help if I can.’

‘You could have helped by not buying the shares in the first place. And
don’t
call me darling.’

Toinette stood up and approached her. ‘Corinne, really! No one can take Marchand over with twenty-seven per cent, and I can assure you that I have absolutely no desire to step into your shoes. Just relax and enjoy Christmas.’

‘Christmas!’ Corinne shuddered. ‘With everyone looking over their shoulders for predators, it’s going to be simply wonderful, isn’t it?’

‘You don’t care what happens to me. This will be my first Christmas without Jean-Claude.’

‘You’re not the only one.’

‘I miss him so much.’

‘So do I.’ Corinne was annoyed that the conversation had taken this turn but her voice was gentler. She was surprised that Toinette seemed to be genuinely upset.

‘May I look in his room?’

‘Of course – we haven’t touched a thing.’

As though he was going to come back and put everything right, she thought. They went quickly down the hall. Corinne waited at the door to her father’s room while Toinette looked around, touching odd items on the dressing table; his hairbrush, cologne, cufflinks. She lingered some while, her back to Corinne. The slight movement of her shoulders suggested that she was crying.

‘What do you really want, Toinette?’

‘Him,’ was the muffled reply. ‘God, I want him!’

Corinne swiftly moved across the room, and involuntarily put an arm around her. Toinette leaned against her for a moment, wiping her eyes.

‘Is there anything of his you’d like?’

Toinette sniffed loudly. Corinne moved away. ‘Could I – would you let me have that photograph?’ She pointed to the mantelpiece.

‘Of course. Haven’t you got one?’

‘I didn’t have much time when he died. I only have snapshots. And memories.’

Corinne handed her a large fiftieth birthday studio portrait of her father which had claimed pride of place on the mantelpiece. She and Yolande both had copies in their rooms. Toinette tucked the photograph under her arm and walked slowly to the door.

‘Thank you very much, Corinne. Are you spending Christmas at St Xavier?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to my brother’s in Strasbourg. Perhaps I’ll give you a call?’

She expected a definite answer. Corinne couldn’t understand what was going on, or how the ground had shifted. They had met to discuss business. Toinette had bought Yolande’s shares and refused to sell them back, yet somehow Corinne found herself comforting her and promising to accept a call at Christmas. It was crazy.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Toinette, as they said goodbye. ‘Your father wouldn’t have let it get him down.’ Then she leaned forward and kissed Corinne on both cheeks. ‘Take care of yourself, darling.
Au revoir
.’

‘I don’t get it, Yves. What on earth is she playing at?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘She absolutely refused to sell you the shares?’

‘I don’t think she can. It seems to me she was a very conveniently placed agent for someone else who targeted us for takeover some while ago and was on the lookout for an opening. Whoever it is also knows about Yolande’s involvement with Patrick Dubuisson and this bloody film.’

Yves winced at Patrick’s name. ‘Someone in the States?’

‘Has to be.’

They were in his office at the Château de Rochemort on a cold late November afternoon, a tray of coffee on the large, venerable walnut desk between them. It was their usual venue for business talks, where the atmosphere seemed to encourage constructive thinking. Like the whole château, Yves’ office exuded an air of confident grandeur.

‘We traced the parent company, by the way,’ continued Corinne. ‘It’s a very elaborate set-up. It’s registered in London, but that’s only a decoy. I’m having it investigated at the moment to see if we can unmask the villain of the piece by Christmas.’

‘Toinette must know.’

‘She’s not telling. I wish I knew what she really wants, then she’d help. But that’s obviously part of her little game.’

Yves stuck his hands behind his head and stretched out his long legs. Stylishly cut jeans, a plain cashmere sweater – he was a living advert for Hervy’s new menswear range, and Corinne thought he looked fabulous in it. How could Yolande have dumped him for a louse like Patrick Dubuisson?

‘I should give it a rest until the New Year, Corinne. Whoever this predator is, he’s obviously waiting for the share price to fall once takeover fever has died down. Nothing will happen for several weeks now.’

She smiled. ‘Don’t bank on that. I could do a deal with Toinette.’

‘Is she ready for one?’ he asked.