Matteo did not answer. Part of him knew the prince spoke truth. But he wasn’t sure her love for him could save them. It obviously had not kept her in town for very long.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He pulled a letter out of his jacket pocket. “Here are the remaining people still in danger as well as my man, Potier, and his family. Please, do all you can for them.”

“I will. You can be sure of that. Now, go home and get some rest. We’ve, all of us, had a long night.”

Matteo stood, handing his cold cloth to the waiting servant, and bowed before he left the room. An uneasy knot began to grow in his stomach. He had not done enough. People were still in danger, and he knew the prince’s efforts would not suffice.

As he rode in the carriage, his mind began planning his return to France. He had no other choice. He must cross the sea and personally see to it that more did not die at his hand. Rushing into the house, he handed Buckley his hat and gloves and almost began a list of instructions to help him get packed and ready when the man held out a note.

“Oh, thank you, Buckley.” Ripping it open, he groaned when he saw the signature. Éléonore. She had written to remind him of their upcoming plans to attend the French nationals ball. He reached out for something to steady himself.

Buckley’s concerned voice interrupted. “Are you unwell, my lord?”

He gratefully grasped the man’s forearm. “I am well. A bit disturbed by this news, that is all. I will be traveling in three days’ time. Could you see to it that all will be in readiness for me?”

“Very good, my lord. Might I ask, where you are going?”

“To France.”

Buckley said nothing, but his disapproving stare struck Matteo right in the chest.

What could he do but nod and walk up the stairs? He had no other choice but to disappoint some. He could not allow another innocent person to fall victim to his mistakes.

But first, he had to attend the now odious French nationals ball and search out the Pimpernel. He felt less and less attached to the elusive hero. Weeks had gone by, and still no word from him. If he were worthy of Matteo’s respect, surely he would have reached out by now.

Chapter Twenty