Quite a few people were handing out pamphlets on the streets of Paris. Pomona casually accepted one, thinking it was some kind of advertisement, but when she opened it, she found it was actually propaganda clearing Louis XVI's name.
Before she could examine it closely, Napoleon Bonaparte snatched it away. He skimmed through it quickly, and before long, a smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
Pomona turned and saw Mr. Jenner not far behind them, struggling along with the support of his manservants. For someone his age, Paris's roads were truly dreadful, and he was rather stout, making his movements look especially clumsy.
"Let's find somewhere to sit for a while." Napoleon pointed to a café not far away.
No one would be in the mood to stroll around filthy streets and flirt, even if this city was Paris. There were, however, many more women inside the café.
"I'm waiting for Mr. Jenner," Pomona said. "I'll only go in once he says it's all right."
"You've been to Venice. Have you visited Caffè Florian in Venice?" Napoleon asked. "It's on St. Mark's Square."
"I have."
"Alone?"
"With..."
"Your husband," he finished for her. "I understand now. Whenever anything related to him comes up, you use that tone."
"I think it's foolish for a married woman to become the mistress of a married man," Pomona said. "Could you stop playing games?"
"Could you tell me where I lost?" He lowered his head, looking like he was humbly seeking guidance. "I recall he wasn't especially handsome."
Pomona wanted to say it was because of his height, but the words died on her lips.
"I made a wish to God," Pomona said. "I will not break my vow."
"You like it when I kiss you." He spoke with a certain defiance.