A salon was not merely a place where society ladies provided playwrights, poets, and critics with company, drinks, and food. As hostesses, women sometimes had to use their wit and grace to mediate disputes that arose over certain topics, taking on the role of a "judge."
It depended entirely on what sort of guests were present. Most people were courteous, discussing topics like art and fashion. Scenes of clashing blades like the one just now were relatively rare.
In any case, Napoleon did not look pleased, perhaps because Georgiana had not declared him the winner.
She had already prepared herself for such things, so when someone called out to her before she got into the carriage, she was not surprised in the least.
"Madam." The Messenger spoke politely as he handed her a letter. "Mr. Lestrange asked me to deliver this to you."
She accepted the letter. It bore the seal of the Ministry of Magic.
"What is it about?" Georgiana asked.
"The matter of the border." The French Ministry of Magic official said, "Who Brittany falls under. The ministers of both countries' Ministries of Magic are preparing to hold a summit in Le Havre."
"All right..." Georgiana said with a headache.
"If Le Havre is inconvenient, another city will do." The Ministry of Magic official said. "They are all waiting for you."
Georgiana turned to look at him.
The young man bowed to her, then turned and left.
Georgiana had only just boarded the carriage with the letter in hand when the door on the other side opened, and an angry Bonaparte sat down across from her.
"What was that just now?" he demanded the moment he opened his mouth.
"You mean this?" Georgiana raised the letter in her hand. "I have another meeting to attend in Le Havre,