Scarlet put on her most confused expression. “But how can that be? I’ve been reading stories to Marie-Thérèse these past several hours and all day yesterday. Just ask the guards. I feel it is all I ever do.” Turning a pleading look to Enzo, she batted her eyelashes.

Enzo stared down at the floor with such a look of guilt, Scarlet knew how she had been discovered.

He stuttered, “She does do a lot of reading, citizen.”

“Oh, shut up.” Éléonore turned to the next room, walking briskly. “I will show you what you have been reading to, Lady Cavendish. I find it suspect that you are so very daft.”

Scarlet followed Éléonore into the bedroom, mind spinning with possibilities for escape. When the bedcovers were thrown back to reveal cleverly placed pillows, Scarlet shrieked in shock. “But where is my little ange? Where is Marie-Thérèse?” She turned to the guards. “What have you done with her? Stolen her while I was sleeping?”

Grasping on to Éléonore by the shoulders, Scarlet gave her a little shake. “You must find Marie-Thérèse. Her Majesty will be so worried. I was to watch her carefully, read to her, and not let her up from bed because she was so very tired, recovering from a lung illness, I believe . . .” She raised her hand to her mouth. “Though I found it curious I heard no coughing. I have thought several times, if there is a lung disease, shouldn’t there be coughing? I dared not wake her at the time of my thoughts, hoping she would rest well and be recovered before her mama returned—”

Éléonore reached out and slapped Scarlet’s face, stopping her speech.

Scarlet prided herself that she did not flinch. Instead, a small smile played on her lips. Her ridiculous nonsense had probably carved years off Éléonore’s life.

“Her mama is not returning! She is captured and on her way to the Bastille, where she will spend her last twenty-four hours and then be promptly executed.”

Scarlet’s heart may have stopped for the longest two seconds of her life, and then it commenced to pounding painfully in her chest. “No.”

The responding shrieking laugh grated through Scarlet’s head, leaving pain in its wake. “Oh, yes. Yes! Thought you were so clever, did you? Thought you could free the former queen of France? What kind of numbskulls do you think we are? As soon as I discovered your visit here to La Conciergerie, I knew something was afoot. It did not take long to find your carriage at the docks. Perhaps she would have set sail?” Éléonore’s laughter tore at Scarlet.

Some small modicum of reason remained and helped her keep up her charade. “But the man told me she would return for her child . . .”