He resisted shaking her in his anger and instead leaned forward until they were nose-to-nose, piercing her eyes with his own. “Or I denounce you.” He glared. “I denounce you to Robespierre. Then I denounce you to the crowd. I’ll denounce you to every guard I see, every other person in my path. I will spend every breath denouncing you with all my evidence.”

She staggered back, hand on her heart. “What evidence?”

“All those hours wishing to be an aristo—pining away for a lovely dress—seeking my hand, my title. You are an aristo in your heart—guilty as the rest.”

Her face had gone white. “Robespierre would never listen to you.”

She sounded unsure and, for a moment, he thought he had won. “Let them go. Escape with us.”

She turned to study him, eyes travelling over his face as if discovering his features for the first time. “I will not. We must still cleanse France, darling. And now we will be free of the Pimpernel along with the rest of you all in one morning. If I have to die too, so be it.” She laughed, a maniacal, crazed noise, closer to a shriek, and then turned from him as the guards began barking orders and forcing people into a group and out the door.

He grabbed at his chest, fisting the shirt, stepping back two steps, reaching for something to steady himself. He felt soft hands holding his, loosening the fabric in his grip, cradling them.

His eyes sought Scarlet’s. “I thought I could negotiate. I thought she might be reasonable. Why would she want all these people to die? Such a waste—they have done nothing.” He shook his head. “And to die herself, willing to be denounced. She has lost her mind.”

“You did right, Matteo.” Her face shone with love. Her hand found the side of his face and she stared tenderly into his soul, infusing him with strength. He caught her into his arms and pressed his mouth to hers, blocking out everyone else for as long as he could. She had such faith in him, so much love. He would go to death a happy man. Together, they turned to face the others in the room.

Simon’s face seemed pinched. “I’m not seeing a happy ending here. I can’t reach the guards. Our men. I am . . . without a plan.”

Scarlet turned her attention to Simon, and Matteo felt her loss.

She said, “Dear Simon. We will leave here, trying to save the people of France. Is there any better way?”

“No, I suppose not. But Franny, you know. We could have had something.”

Scarlet stepped forward to embrace him. “There may still be time. Where the Pimpernel is involved, there is always hope.”

Simon almost scoffed, but as his eyes travelled her face, they stopped and lit for a moment. “Hope it is. We will move forward on the merits of hope alone.”