‘Well, yes, I suppose it has.’ Josephine nodded. ‘But times are hard when the nation is at war and death sweeps up everyone in its embrace, regardless of age, gender and innocence. And if the death of Robespierre had come much later, then I would surely have gone the way of my dear Alexandre, leaving my children helpless orphans.’

The woman had an artful turn of phrase, Napoleon decided. There was a very nicely worked huskiness to her last words. Unless it was genuine. He felt a flush of shame at his ungallant thoughts, and tried to cover his feelings by hurrying round the desk to pull out a chair for his guest. ‘Please, madame, take a seat.’

‘Thank you, General,’ she replied, with a small catch in her voice. ‘I’m sorry to appear before you like this. I assure you that I am not in the habit of being so . . . emotional.’ She lowered her head, and Napoleon saw her shoulders trembling. As she leaned forward his eyes fell upon the smooth white flesh of her cleavage and as her chest heaved slightly with a sob he forced his embarrassed gaze away and stared fixedly at the top of her neatly pinned hair.

‘Madame, please. There is no need to apologise. Not after all that you must have been through.’

‘No, no! I must apologise. I only came here to thank you for your kindness, and I’m taking up your valuable time with my nonsense.’With a delicate flick of her hand she pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I must go. I have no right to impose upon a man with such grave responsibilities. I’m sorry.’

Abruptly she rose from the chair, and Napoleon found himself suddenly looking directly into her eyes.There was intelligence in her expression, and a sensuality in the smooth curve of her lips. Scent filled his nostrils with a musky sweetness that stirred his loins. He took a step back and bowed his head.

‘As you wish, madame. Do you wish me to have your carriage called for you?’

‘Carriage?’ She looked up and he saw the faint look of distress in her expression. ‘I have no carriage, General. I walked here.’

‘Ah . . .Then, please, allow me to call for mine. It will take you home.’

The corners of her lips lifted into a grateful smile. ‘You are a most gallant man, my general. Once again, I am in your debt. Perhaps I might repay you by asking that you call on me?’

‘Yes, I should like that. If it’s not imposing?’

‘It will be I who imposes, on the valuable time of France’s hero.’

Napoleon opened his mouth to speak, but for once no words emerged and he strove for a reply before he blurted out, ‘I’ll come as soon as I can.’

Josephine smiled faintly. ‘I’ll look forward to it. I’ll make sure your driver makes a note of my address.’

Then she turned and left, and as the door closed behind her Napoleon received one last waft of her scent. He breathed it in deeply before it had faded away, leaving only a memory of her that made his blood warm and his heart beat fast as he recalled the creamy whiteness of her breast.

Chapter 8

The following week Napoleon made sure that the malcontents of Paris realised that their uprising was over. Soldiers were posted at all the main road junctions and public buildings, and artillery pieces were openly positioned so that the main boulevards lay under their muzzles. At the same time he summoned regular troops from the Army of the Vendée and some of the depots to supplement the National Guard units in Paris.

But he did not forget his promise to the Beauharnais boy, and as soon as the sword was located Napoleon had it delivered to his office. Early the next day he set off in his carriage to the address on the Rue de la Chaussée-d’ Antin. As the carriage pulled up outside a generously proportioned building Napoleon felt his pulse racing. He descended from the carriage carrying the sword, and hurriedly smoothed down his coat jacket and breeches, glancing at his boots to ensure that the glassy polish he had demanded from one of his servants was still unbesmirched. Then, taking a breath, he strode up to the door and rapped the large iron knocker.There was a short delay in which he had time to imagine that Josephine Beauharnais might not be at home, even this early in the day.

But then the door was opened by a mulatto woman wearing a bright red headcloth. She stared at him with narrowed eyes.

‘Sir?’

‘Is Madame Beauharnais at home?’

‘She is.’ The woman’s voice had a peculiar sing-song lilt to it that Napoleon could not place.‘Who may I say is calling for her?’

‘General Bonaparte.’ Napoleon tilted his head back as he announced himself.

‘General, you say?’The woman looked at him with an amused expression. ‘Please wait in here, General, and I’ll see if Madame will receive you.’

He was ushered to a low couch in the hall, just to the side of the door. There were two more seats against the opposite wall and Napoleon realised with a sinking feeling that Josephine must be in the habit of receiving many visitors. The light slap of bare feet on the staircase at the end of the hall drew his attention and he turned to see a young girl hurrying down the stairs towards him. Josephine appeared behind her and called out, ‘Hortense! Back up here right now. I must comb your hair before you go out.’

‘But Mother, I want to see the hero!’

Josephine looked past her daughter and flushed as she saw Napoleon. ‘I’m so sorry. Please bear with me a moment.’

‘Of course.’ Napoleon could not help smiling. ‘It seems you have a mutiny to suppress.’

Josephine raised her eyes. ‘If you only knew. Now then, Hortense, back to your room.’

Her daughter took a last look at the visitor and trotted back up the stairs. Josephine took her hand firmly and nodded towards the couches. ‘Please take a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.’

Once she had gone Napoleon waited in the hall, noting the faded curtains and worn thread of the rugs on the cracked tiles of the floor, clear signs of the declining fortunes of the Beauharnais family.At length the faint sounds of the girl’s excited chatter faded and a door closed somewhere at the back of the house. A moment later he heard footsteps descending the stairs and looked up.

Josephine was wearing a silk gown, and looked to have little on beneath it from the way it clung to the curves of her body. Her hair had been carefully pinned back. Napoleon had to swallow before he could return the greeting she called out to him.

‘So, my general has come to see me after all.’ Her lips parted in a smile. ‘I had feared we had been forgotten amid the public clamour for your attention.’

‘I promised to bring your husband’s sword, and here it is.’ He offered the sword to Josephine. Her gaze passed over the scabbard and then she tenderly lifted it and held it to her chest.

‘My thanks, General.You have no idea how much this simple blade means to me, to my family. I shall be for ever in your debt.’

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.