1
Florian had not been entirely honest with Margot. Seigneur Chanteraine did not choose to share all his thoughts with me, he had told her, which was undoubtedly true as far as it went. But the enigmatic master of the emporium had shared one or two more musings with his employee than Florian had imparted to Margot.
Chanteraine had been troubled that morning, and visibly so, which was unlike him; so adept was he at maintaining a consistently calm, composed demeanour, Florian was used to having to guess at his master’s true feelings. But today was different.
Florian always arrived at the emporium very early. By the time the pink light of sunrise spilled across the skies, he was already at work: in the storeroom taking stock of the shop’s supplies, or packing the first orders of the day fo
