“She is a dear. I approve, Andrew. Perhaps you will have better luck with the French than I have done.”

3 On November 5, 1792, Maximilien Robespierre gave a speech defending his political position. Olympe de Gouges penned, Response to Maximilien Robespierre’s Justification, Addressed to Jérôme Pétion. These words are an excerpt of her arguments (Réponse à la Justification de Maximilien Robespierre, accessed Nov. 20, 2017, www.olympedegouges.eu/response_max.php, Nov. 2017).

Chapter Twenty-One

Matteo led Éléonore out onto the floor. “People are scowling at me. You have ruined my reputation.”

“Ignore them. This is for Potier. Now, tell me what you know.”

“I arrived only an hour ago. I know nothing. Simon is here, but Andrew is not. Perhaps the Pimpernel himself is not even here.”

Éléonore stepped away as they moved through the steps of the dance. When she returned, she said, “Tonight is the night to be bold. Do whatever it takes. Find the Pimpernel, or Potier will answer for your crimes.”

Matteo finished the dance in silence, smiling politely to the others, but refusing to acknowledge Éléonore.

When the music stopped, she said, “If you have news, offer me a lemonade, and we will go discuss it in the library.”

Matteo turned from her and nearly collided with Scarlet.

A bit shaken, he searched her face, hoping. “Welcome home, my dear.” He moved toward her, ready to pull her to his chest and breathe in the wonderful scent of her hair, but she held out her hand for him to take.

“Hello, Matteo.”

Trepidation furrowed his eyebrows. “Would you dance with me?” he asked, bowing.

She nodded. “Of course. I would not miss a dance with my handsome French prince.” She giggled to the ladies at her side.

The music for the waltz began. Matteo pulled her into his arms, cherishing her nearness. “I have missed you. So much I long to tell you. Perhaps tonight—”

“Oh, I hardly think we will have time tonight. I have arrived just hours before, rushing to change so that I could be here. I might long for my bed before too long.”

Matteo’s mouth moved in his most charming smile. “Then you and I will be of the same accord. I too long for it, and you.”

Scarlet’s cheeks burned red. “Matteo, really.”

His heart soared. She was still affected by him, blushing in his arms. Hope filled him, and he swung her around in their waltz with greater energy and finesse.

She sighed. “You are such a good dancer.”

“But why this sigh? I am yours. You may dance with me any time you like. It is something to celebrate, no?”

Scarlet looked down and then asked, “You say you are mine. And yet, I arrive to find you entertaining Éléonore Duplay. Was she not once the holder of your heart?”