Was he the reason for her change in allegiance? For her coldness in their marriage? The despair that always weighed him down deepened into a heavy knot. How would he ever win back the affections of his wife if she were also enamored with the Pimpernel? What had he ever done of equal valor? Instead of saving his fellow Frenchmen, Matteo had cowered, dancing attendance on the English nobility, selfishly engrossed in pursuit of a woman, of winning her heart.

Selfish, foolish, man!

He could never regret Scarlet, but his heart burned in shame when he thought of the time he’d spent away from his homeland.

The guards stopped in front of a door, this one cleaner, in a well-lit corridor. A smaller window on the front of the door showed him a room with a straw bed, a tiny upper window, and a chair. Much improved indeed, and he felt grateful for the blessing of a chair to sit upon. They used a large heavy key to unlock the door, unfastened the bands around his wrists, and then shoved him into the room. The lock clicked when the door shut behind him.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Scarlet hid behind a tree, grateful her veil and headdress shielded her face from the cold misty rain. The guard delivered one white carnation to Marie Antoinette, wrapped in a note. Scarlet awaited her response, hoped she would understand the change of plans and prepare to leave tonight.

Blast Matteo. Why was he in prison? Why was he in France? An icy fear gripped her whenever she thought about him. Focusing on any other task had required all her mental faculties.

Potier and his family were safe. She had received word that morning. The guards, planted at the fake address, had merely been waiting for Matteo on the chance he showed up. Éléonore knew he would come, knew Matteo better than Scarlet herself did, apparently. The knowledge scraped at her fresh wound.

And now, as a result, she would have to exert all her expertise in trying to save his life. Again, she had a strong desire to shake him for his stupidity; his presence here had put at risk all the other operations in play, including this now-rushed attempt to free Marie.

Ironic. Simon’s letter, explaining Matteo’s arrest and reaching her mere hours after her escape from the prison, could have spared her the shock of seeing him there. Thank the stars Matteo had had enough sense to school his expression and emotion. But Scarlet had seen his eyes. Shock, confusion, realization, and betrayal. How could one pair of eyes communicate so much in an instant? But she had felt it all, almost in tune with his own feelings.