Madame de Morcerf led her companion through an archway draped with trees. The path wound through a grove of lindens toward the conservatory at the far end.
"It was too stuffy inside, wasn't it, Count?" she asked, her voice slightly breathless.
"Yes, it was. Opening those doors and windows was an excellent idea."
As Monte Cristo spoke, he felt Mercédès' hand tremble against his arm.
"But aren't you cold?" he asked, glancing at her thin dress. "That silk scarf isn't much protection."
"Do you know where I'm taking you?" the countess asked, ignoring his question completely.
"No, but I'm not resisting." His tone was careful and measured.
"To the greenhouse. The one you can see through the trees."
Monte Cristo studied her face, searching for answers to questions he couldn't voice. But Mercédès remained silent, and he chose not to press further. They continued walking.
