Shaking her head, Éléonore pointed a long bony finger in her direction. “Stop with the nonsense. Enzo has provided evidence against you: bribery of one of my most loyal guards, notes to prisoners, plans of escape. I have all the proof I need to throw you in jail and ensure that you never see the shores of England again, emissary or no.”

“Prince George would not take kindly to that. If I do not return by a certain time, you will be hearing from him.”

“If your head is already in a basket, I am unconcerned about whatever he might say to me.” Waving her hands, she said, “Guards, arrest this woman.” Then she leaned closer to Scarlet, resting a hand on her arm. “And Lady Cavendish, or should we say, Comtesse Durand, you are also guilty by marriage to a traitor. Marie Antoinette’s head will roll early, as soon as possible. She has you to thank.”

Scarlet’s heart still performed unnaturally in her chest, and she willed her feet to move, but they would not. All senses dulling, she slipped into an emotional blackness. She fought the despair. What could she do? Surely there was something. But a thick blanket of nothing came to mind. No brilliant plans, no creative turns of phrases. She felt like the dead, as cold and silent as a fish. Another life slipping through her fingers . . . and Simon. A sliver of panic rose at the thought of losing Simon. Not knowing what else to do, she followed the guards out the door without comment. They marched down the hallway and into the night.

Once inside her carriage, Éléonore addressed Scarlet from her window. “We will take you immediately to Robespierre. He has some words for you before you will be thrown to your fate amongst the others in their cells at the Bastille.”

Back to the Bastille? A flicker of hope reminded her Matteo was also in the Bastille. Did she not plan to go in after him at any rate? She was not without friends there.

But Marie. Her escape had fallen apart, every moment worse than the last. When Scarlet slowed, a guard nudged her forward gently but insistently.

Outside, under the night sky, she recognized a familiar sound, a dove cooing, but it did not fully register as important. Three steps later, it sounded again, and she almost stopped abruptly as some sense returned. The sound of a dove. She fought to hide her smile and then whistled three times in return.

“Be quiet, you.” A guard held up a handkerchief, threatening to use it as a gag.

Scarlet’s eyes scanned the night. Could that be her signal? Perhaps Simon remained free. Subtly, her eyes flicked to every corner in the darkness around her. Who would be here now, if not Simon?

The only carriage now out of sight, Scarlet shook her head at the ridiculous situation. “Will you be walking the distance with me?”