He stepped forward, Scarlet at his side. “Do not let these people die. Of course it is I. Naturally he must be a Frenchman who has an understanding of the workings of this new government, with friends on the inside. You, Éléonore, have been feeding me information for years without realizing it. Things have become more complicated with my exile to England, but we have still managed to free all our old neighbors and Potier as well.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “But we captured you in the foolish attempt to find him—”

“I allowed myself to be captured, with the hopes of rescuing these very people, and my wife, of course.”

“She was captured after you—”

“In the act of carrying out my orders to free Her Majesty.”

Laughing, Éléonore snarled, “At which she failed.”

Scarlet swayed, clutching his arm. He steadied her in concern. One of the men to her left stepped forward at her other side.

“Nevertheless, I am he. And this charade of a lure and bait must end now. Let these people go, according to your word. And take me straightaway if you wish.”

“No, Matteo, listen to me.” Scarlet reached forward, grabbing at his hands.

He pulled her into his arms.

She whispered into his ear, “Remember your jacket. If you get a chance, slit the back of Robespierre’s collar.”

He blinked; this was not what he expected from his fainting wife. He continued on anyway. “It is for the best, my dear.” He patted her back in consolation. Then, speaking to Éléonore, he said, “I have proof. The ring itself.”

He dug into his pocket and presented the ring he had found in Scarlet’s bureau, with the two small flowers on its surface. It wasn’t her signet, possibly was not even the pimpernel flower, but it could work.

“Could it be you?” Éléonore’s face filled with a deranged aura of satisfaction, almost smiling, her mind apparently lost in thought. “Even if it isn’t you, you will proclaim it is, to Robespierre and everyone. You have the ring. It could be you after all.” She stepped up to him, her perfume irritating his nose and filling the air around them. She pressed up against him and whispered in his ear, “I am not fooled. But we will move forward with this deception. It is enough to trick that fool, Robespierre.” Turning around she shouted, “Guards! Lead them away, all of them.”

Matteo stepped toward her and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look into his face. “Éléonore, let them go.”

“Unhand me.”

The guards moved to apprehend Matteo, but he stepped away, pulling her with him. Other prisoners stepped between them.

“Let them go, Éléonore.”

“Or what? You have no power here. In the Bastille prison, we kill who we like, with no trial, no reason.”