“I have an appointment,” I insisted.
Mr.Griffin, the secretary seated behind an elevated counter, peered down at me with a raised brow.“As you did the past two times?”
“I have arealone this time,” I said, my face heating.“Check your schedule, if you must.”
Mr.Griffin frowned and flipped through his papers.“Miss Giselle...”
“Phula,” I supplied.I had already given my name the past two visits, but it seemed it didn’t stick with the secretary.
Mr.Griffin sighed.“You have a slot for ten minutes.”
I exhaled a relieved breath.I had asked Narcissa for a favor this month; it seemed that a note emblazoned with the Greenwood insignia had done wonders in squeezing me into Mr.de Clare’s busy schedule.
A pair of massive double doors loomed at my right, flanked by small windows that provided glimpses into the room—Mr.de Clare’s office.I pushed the doors open and entered, letting them shut ominously behind me.
“Who is it?”A broad man with graying blond hair and a curled mustache sat behind a magnificent mahogany desk that dominated the space.
“Miss Giselle Phula, sir,” I said, shifting my weight on the lush carpet beneath my feet.
“Who la?”He squinted down at me.Recognition slowly spread over his paunchy face.“Ah.You’re the chit who waved madly at me through my office window last week.”
I glanced guiltily behind me at the window in question, which had since been polished of my palm prints.I was surprised to be recognized.
“I’m honored to have your attention, Mr.de Clare,” I said politely.“You refused to see me last time.”
Mr.de Clare looked at me pityingly.“Surely a young lady such as yourself would be more interested in exploring the other floors.There are no fripperies here, my dear.”He gave me a condescending smile.
“You’ve received the letter of recommendation from Lady Narcissa?”I asked.
“Yes of course.The royals’ charity work has been interesting, hasn’t it?”
“I’m here to ask about a business venture,” I continued.
Mr.de Clare laughed.It would’ve been a jolly laugh in any other context, but at this moment, it grated.“And what do you know of business, young miss?”
I had gone about this all wrong.I should’ve begun with my credentials before he went off belittling me.
“I was the royal seamstress last winter during the crown prince’s engagement tour,” I said.“I have a dress shop and I would be interested in moving it into Blanche de Clare.”
Mr.de Clare raised his pale brows.“Indeed?And do you have any proof of your previous employment?”
There never had been any paperwork when I was hired as the royal seamstress.Only records of my position in the Witch Committee.“I’m sure I can get it at the palace, but there was a fashion publication last winter—”
“And this shop of yours, what is it called?”
I’d never named it.Mrs.Lewis forbade any permanent signage on the glass or walls, claiming it was unsightly property damage.I could only depend on my display window, hoping the garments behind it was enough to convey that the establishment was a dress shop.“It’s just called, er...dress shop.”
“Pity.Never heard of it.Do you have any ledgers or reports showing that this place of yours is profitable?”
I opened my mouth and closed it.I had so few patrons I didn’t see a point in keeping ledgers.Even if I had, it would only show that my shop was not profitable in the slightest.
Mr.de Clare shrugged.“I’m afraid I cannot offer you anything if you do not have a legitimate business.”
“I have the business license for witches,” I countered.The license was given to any witch who wished to take their business aboveground, and also signaled to potential customers that the establishment was witch-owned.It was all relatively new, but as far as I knew, it was still proof that my shop was legitimate.
“Ah.A witch business.Disorganized things, I hear,” Mr.de Clare said.“I am sympathetic to your kind, Miss Hoola, but even if I wanted to help you, there are no vacancies in my department store.You may find better luck elsewhere.I hear landlords of South Delibera are renting.”
I clenched my fists.That I already knew.After all, I was renting from one of them.
