But Scarlet turned to Matteo as if she hadn’t spoken. “The words you are looking for, her costume. Prison officer.”

“Well done! You’ve hit upon it precisely. That’s the tone. Black clothing, sickly pale skin, glinting evil eyes—”

“Enough! I have had enough of the both of you!”

They each looked into the face of the other in turn and began giggling, then laughing, and then holding their stomachs with hilarity at Éléonore’s rage until she turned and walked out of the cell, slamming the door behind her.

“Hmm. Perhaps we should not have done that.” Matteo’s nose almost touched Scarlet’s as they looked into each other’s eyes.

The hatch on their door opened again, and Éléonore’s squinty eyes glared at them through the grate. “Do you think I am so stupid? I have figured you out, Comtesse.” She spit the word out as though it were vile to her. “Oh yes, I recognized right away who you are. Parading around as this Seamstress person, aiding that vile Pimpernel. There will be no dinner this evening. Your comfort does not concern me. Your lives are worthless, except for the slightest chance that your presence will attract the Pimpernel. I will return in the morning before breakfast, and we will see how things go. If your humility has not returned, we will withhold food again until I see a better demeanor from the both of you.” The hatch shut, and they heard footsteps, hers and the guards’, walking down the long corridor outside their cell.

“Quickly, while we have time, let me have your jacket.” Scarlet stood and then faltered, her legs giving way beneath her.

“Scarlet! You must drink something.” His arm around her waist kept her standing.

After she had several sips of water, she began contorting at all angles, reaching up and under the skirts of her dress.

Matteo was immediately distracted by her lovely ankles and petite little feet.

She stopped and smiled. “Would you mind averting your eyes?”

He turned his back, embarrassed that he had been watching her and chagrined, frustrated, and impatient that as her husband, he did not know every part of her intimately. Back still turned, he held his jacket out to her and felt her relieve him of it.

“You may turn around.”

Mouth gaping, Matteo took two steps to get a closer look. On her lap were three knives, a small sewing satchel, and a long pouch that he guessed she wore, moments ago, strapped to her leg. “Brilliant. Charming, beautiful, and a prison escape expert.”

Scarlet’s small smile was her only response while she quickly and efficiently began ripping at the seams in his jacket sleeve. “I had to give up the pistol when they searched me at the gate.”

“Really? You had a pistol hidden about your person?”

Her lovely laughter warmed him. “No,” she teased, and he loved her all the more for it.