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in his chair and sipped his cognac, smiling with bland nonchalance. “Your proof, then, is so reliable, you will execute a son of one of our finest families? Remember your own remarks when it came to d’Enghien, Minister.”
    Fouche looked unruffled. “I still think that was a mistake, but this is not the same situation.”
    “Medes is a popular man, and a romantic figure.”
    The room was austere, the lighting dim. Enigmatic and saturnine, the minister of police simply smiled. “I am curious to know, are you asking as a fellow aristocrat, Monsieur de Comte, or as a friend of the Medes family?”
    Brows lifted, Anton responded, “Neither. I am here as a citizen of France, of course. I also have many financial affairs handled by the very bank Leon ran so efficiently.”
    “Ahh…and so you are personally concerned that justice is served, is that it?”
     
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    “Shouldn’t we all be?” Anton said pointedly. “Please tell me the Terror wasn’t for nothing. In this new France, it is put forth that a man can expect a fair trial. It seems to me that this Medes affair has been handled too quickly.”
    “And as a man with the ear of the emperor, you are here to police this situation?”
    It would never do to insult someone like Fouche. Anton laughed lightly. “No, of course not. The courts are supposed to do that. I am here to—”
    “Obliquely find out if Medes has in anyway given evidence that might implicate your very beautiful English lover, Lady Edgerton?”
    Not known for his frankness, the very bluntness of the minister’s speech was so surprising that for a moment, Anton was nonplussed at how to react.
    Fouche went on in that same pleasant voice. “You are concerned, and justly so, that we—I dislike the word torture, so let us use influenced— Medes. In the course of such questioning, most men break down, do they not?”
    “After the third day, as so the saying goes.” Recovering his poise a little, Anton set aside his snifter, wondering what kind of game they were now playing. “It seems rather barbaric to me, I’m afraid.”
    “Ah, to me also, but effective. Mind you, I did not say we did anything of the kind. I simply stated what I believed to be your concern. Lacroux cries Lady Edgerton’s name at every turn, certain she is a planted spy sent by the enemy.”
    A small chill had seized him. Since Fouche had already brought up her name, it seemed his worries were justified. Anton said curtly, “Lacroux is unstable, and you know it, however well he serves you.
    Lara is English. I would not want her falsely accused simply because of her nationality. Our countries are ever at odds with each other.”
    “Our countries are ever at war.” Fouche chuckled. “Come, Monsieur de Comte, let us be blunt. It is obvious to me that you have discovered something that makes you suspicious also of the lovely
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    countess and you are enamored enough of this young lady to bestir yourself to try and assess her danger. I suspect that if I were to have proof enough for an arrest on the charge of espionage, I would find myself in a battle that involved your influence in the highest circles.”
    “You have my assurance, Minister, that Lady Edgerton does nothing but occupy my bed. Is that not enough?”
    There was a brief silence in which the room seemed to grow even stuffier, the stench of stale tobacco and old books filling the air. Then Fouche sighed, sinking back in his chair. “Take her out of Paris,” he suggested with a languid wave of his hand, his eyes hooded and unreadable. “To the country, perhaps, for a while, at least until this affair with Medes and his little group is over. I do not intend to stand by and allow such an operation right under my nose. I serve France, and it is not prudent to allow information to leak across her borders, even if it means more unpopular executions.”
    Anton lifted a brow. “And if I do take her to my country chateau, she will be