By candlelight, Georgiana had been studying a map, looking over the route for the upcoming journey, when she inadvertently noticed something.
Amiens seemed to be on the same longitude as Paris.
But considering the accuracy of maps in this era, it might have been a "coincidence."
"Are you fobbing me off with Shakespeare again?"
She looked up and saw Bonaparte, who had appeared without her knowing when, and thought she was hallucinating.
"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.
He smiled at her as if he wanted to see through something.
She instinctively touched her face. Could there be mud stuck to it?
He gave a cold snort and sat down on the sofa.
He looked icy, without a trace of the warmth he had shown in his letters.
"What's wrong?" Georgiana asked.
"The trade figures for last year are out. We lost." He took out his snuff.
"The numbers are that bad?" Georgiana asked.
"Not as ugly as Louis XVI," he said quietly.
"Do you know why I thought of finding a Frenchman?" Georgiana smiled coldly. "Because I know how stubborn the British are."
He laughed.
"Come here." He beckoned to her.
Georgiana ran over lightly, and he had her sit on his lap.
"Tell me about something else," Bonaparte said in a good mood.
"One-sided giving never leads to a good outcome." She picked a bit of grass from his collar. "Now that the figures are out, will public support for you be shaken?"
"At worst, I'll resign." Bonaparte's face turned cold as well.
She watched his expression for a while and decided it was best not to say anything at this moment.
"Even a foreigner like you knows to think of solutions, while everyone else only knows how to tell me their positions," he said,