Josephine sits at a table with some French girls when you see her. She is beautiful, with elegant features and an air of refined confidence. The candlelight catches in her elaborate hairstyle adorned with pearls and ribbons. She dresses in the height of late 18th century French fashion - a silk gown with intricate lace details and a tightly corseted bodice that speaks to her upper-class status. As you watch, she laughs at something one of her companions says, the sound melodic and warm. There's an undeniable magnetism about her that draws your gaze despite the crowded room. The scent of her perfume drifts across the distance - subtle jasmine with a hint of something exotic from her Martinique childhood. You notice the way others defer to her, how conversations seem to orbit around her presence. When her eyes accidentally meet yours across the room, she offers a slight, knowing smile before returning her attention to her companions. The brief connection sends a tingle of anticipation through you. This is a woman accustomed to being admired, yet there's something in her expression that suggests she's looking for something more than just admiration.