Josephine nodded, clutching both hands to her breast.The tears were already welling up in her eyes as she watched her husband fearfully. For a moment Napoleon glared back; then he let out a deep sigh and reached down and gently took her hands in his.

‘I am sorry. My temper is not what it was. I have much on my mind. I have little patience for the small details that every husband must attend to. Forgive me.’ He lowered his head and kissed her fingers.

Josephine nodded, and her chest heaved a little as she strove to control her tears. ‘It’s my fault. I know I should show her more respect, but . . . she hates me. As do all your family. They have always hated me. I can’t bear it.’

‘Hush.’ Napoleon cupped her cheek in his hand. ‘No one hates you. They’re Corsicans with Corsican morals.’ Napoleon’s mind momentarily flicked to his sister Pauline and the scandalous manner in which she conducted herself. Her numerous affairs were public knowledge. But she had always been promiscuous. Napoleon winced at the memory of catching her with a grenadier behind a screen in his map room during his first campaign in Italy, nine years ago. He shook his head. ‘Most of them, at least. Anyway, you will not have to endure my family for much longer.’

‘Oh?’

Napoleon smiled. ‘We’re leaving France for two, perhaps three, months.’

‘Leaving France?’ Josephine responded warily.‘Not another campaign?’

‘Not unless Britain has decided to invade Italy.’

‘Italy!’ Josephine’s expression lightened at once as she recalled the days of Napoleon’s first army command, the almost regal court at the palace at Montebello where her days had been carefree and she had been surrounded by the brightest minds and most vivacious personalities of the Italian kingdoms. ‘When do we leave?’

‘Within the month.’ Napoleon smiled. ‘Just be sure not to order any new clothes for the journey that you can’t afford.’

‘Swine!’ Josephine swatted him on the shoulder, then her expression became serious for a moment. She wrapped her arms round his neck and drew him down on to the chair and kissed him full on the mouth. Her pulse quickened and then his hands were on the straps that fastened her bodice.

‘It will be like last time,’ she breathed. ‘No, better than last time we were together in Italy. I swear it.’

Napoleon softly grazed his lips down the arc of her neck towards the soft mound of her breast, and out of the corner of his eye he saw from the clock ticking above the fire that there would be time to make love before dressing for dinner with his family.