She was not what he expected. “How can a poor merchant express his present honor, my lady?”The woman with the kohl around her eyes was probably the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, including Lady Lente. Even in the large receiving room of the Emperor Bonaparte, among the flower of the French Empire and against a backdrop of lace and silk and gold braid, she put them all to shame with her air of the exotic. She even smelled exotic. It was somehow familiar. Around the room, eyes secretly followed her. She was the toast of Paris, a curiosity, if you will, who had taken the town by storm. He could imagine this woman getting whatever she wanted. But a mastermind of French intelligence? It hardly seemed possible. He wondered if Dupré had left him false information to lead him a merry dance.“You are too kind.” Her smile was brittle. The Comte de Fanueille claimed her as wife, whether or not she actually was. “But I hear you are far from poor, Monsieur Presset.”He bowed his head in acknowledgment.
