‘As long as they don’t say it too loud, or to too many people.’

Napoleon sighed. ‘Who has been slinging the mud this time? Your friend Barras? Or that jumped-up perfume platform, Madame de Staël?’

Josephine was quiet for a moment before she continued. ‘Did you have to banish her from Paris?’

‘I didn’t. That was the decision of the Minister of Police.’

‘That dog Fouché.’ Josephine sneered. ‘He’s little more than your pet.’

‘He’s a lot more than that. If Fouché exiled de Staël then you can be sure he had a good reason to do so.’

‘Really? Are you sure? There have been quite a few people disappearing from Paris society in recent months, none of whom I’d describe as a dangerous enemy.’

‘They had to go. For the public good.’ Napoleon reached for some grapes and popped one into his mouth. ‘They’ll be allowed back, once they’ve seen reason and can keep their opinions to themselves. Who knows how far they would take their conspiracies if we permitted them to remain in Paris?’

‘Oh, come on. How many of them do you suppose are actually dangerous?’

‘I don’t know. But the men who tried to kill me and you, and injured Hortense, came from somewhere.’

It was a harsh reminder, and Napoleon felt guilty about his words almost as soon as he had uttered them. Josephine turned away from him indignantly, but he saw through the gesture as she quickly wiped a tear away on her sleeve.

‘I’m sorry, my love. I did not mean to upset you.’ He reached out and gently placed his hand across her shoulder. ‘Really I didn’t.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she replied, her voice catching. ‘You are probably right. You usually are.’ She turned back towards him, and forced herself to smile. Then her expression froze as her gaze swept over his shoulder. ‘Here comes your nasty little policeman.’

Napoleon swivelled round and rose to his feet as he saw Fouché striding across the gardens towards the picnic guests. As soon as he saw Napoleon he broke into a smile and quickened his pace.

‘The result?’ Napoleon asked at once. ‘Is it in?’

‘Yes, citizen.’ Fouché laughed lightly. ‘Or should I say, First Consul for life?’

Napoleon grasped his arm. ‘The numbers. Tell me the numbers.’

‘Three and a half million votes in favour . . . eight thousand against.’

‘Good God,’ Napoleon muttered. ‘Is that true?’

‘Trust me, if it had been rigged they wouldn’t even have got eight hundred votes.’

‘That’s it then. France is as good as mine.’

Chapter 65

Chapter 65