There was an awkward silence before Napoleon coughed. ‘Well, I suppose I had better take my leave.’

‘Oh . . .’ Her smile faded.

‘Unless—’

‘Please take some refreshment with me,’ Josephine gushed. ‘I mean, if you can spare me the time.’

Napoleon nodded. ‘I will, thank you.’

Josephine glanced at the sword, looked round and then quickly lowered it, with a clatter, on to a marble-topped side table.Then she thrust open a door into a small, sparsely furnished parlour. ‘In here, if you please.’

Napoleon entered the room and crossed to one of the pair of softly upholstered two-seater couches and eased himself down. It was even softer than it looked and he sank into the cushions. Josephine turned to face down the hall and called out, ‘Hesther! Coffee in the small parlour.’

Then she entered the room and closed the door behind her, before crossing to the same couch as her guest and taking the spare cushion, so that their thighs were almost touching.

She looked at him with a concerned expression. ‘General, are you quite well?’

‘Yes. Fine. Why?’

‘It’s just that you look a little feverish.’

‘I’m very well, thank you. It’s warm in here.’

‘So? That must be it.’ She patted his knee. ‘No need for me to worry then.’

He shook his head and forced a smile; then, aware that his gaze was lingering on her body for longer than was seemly, he glanced away, around the room, and saw a miniature portrait in a frame on the mantelpiece. He stood up and approached it.

‘Isn’t that Paul Barras?’

‘Yes. He’s a good friend of mine.’

‘I thought I recognised the face,’ Napoleon responded. In truth the miniature flattered Barras. ‘Your friend, you say?’

‘Paul has been good to me. Since my husband was executed, he has been my gallant protector. It was Barras who returned most of the property that was confiscated after Alexandre’s death. I owe him a lot. And now he owes you far more, it seems.’

‘Nonsense. I was just doing my duty.’

‘Of course. But that does not change the fact that without your intervention it was more than likely that Paul would have lost his head.’

Napoleon shrugged.

The door opened and Hesther entered the room with a silver tray bearing two steaming cups of coffee. She set the tray down on a side table and left the room. Josephine patted the cushion next to her.

‘Come. Sit down and have your coffee. I have it made strong and sweetened with two spoons of sugar. Black as the devil and sweet as a stolen kiss, as they say in Martinique. I hope you like it.’

Easing his back into the cushions, Napoleon took the proffered cup and cautiously sipped the dark contents. It was hot, but not too hot, and the flavour was surprisingly smooth and pleasing.

‘It’s good.Very good.’