Scarlet clasped her hands gently in her lap and bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t be angry with the comte. Of a truth, he behaved as she would have done.

Éléonore caught up to Scarlet, and, one carriage behind the other, their speed picked up on the side roads and alleys.

For a citizen of Calais looking curiously on, as many of them were doing, the two carriages appeared to be seeking a bit of recreation on a sunny summer day.

Almost at the last possible moment, Lady Cavendish’s equipage leaned precariously to the side, turning sharply to the left. They careened down a narrow side alley. Clutching the window frame to remain upright, Scarlet peered out the back window. Her lips turned upward as Éléonore’s two wheels left the ground when they rounded the corner in pursuit.

Both passed an enormous pile of the ripest smelling garbage Simon could locate, she was sure. Scarlet held a handkerchief up to her nose and braced her body against the next sharp turn, a right onto a much wider street with cleaner air. Simon slowed their horses, allowing Éléonore to pull up alongside. Their equipages bumped and scraped one another until Simon signaled their horses to slow further.

Before either vehicle had come to a complete stop, soldiers surrounded Scarlet, muskets raised at her and all her men.

A voice carried over the group. “Wait. I want to do the honors.” Scarlet’s carriage door flung open to reveal a young woman, with dark hair and pale skin, blinking to adjust from the brightness of the sun.

Scarlet looked at her expectantly with a wide smile on her face. “Oh, my dear! How lovely to have some company! Won’t you join me?”

Squinting eyes scanned the carriage. “Where is he?”

Confusion warred with amusement on Scarlet’s face, and she stuck her lip out in a bit of a pout. “I’m sorry, who?”

“You know very well who.” Éléonore’s scowl might create permanent wrinkles, the lines ran so deep. “Now, where is he?”

Laughter filled the carriage. “Oh, my dear. Do come in here and join me. Such wit, such a clever girl. I must become acquainted with you, post haste.” Scarlet waved her hand, gesturing to the seat opposite in the carriage.

Grumbling, Éléonore obliged.

“There now, we will have a chat. I am Lady Scarlet Cavendish, emissary of Prince George himself, come on a peace mission to France. And you are?”

Éléonore opened her mouth and then closed it. She swallowed and said, “Lady Cavendish. I am Éléonore Duplay, personal assistant to Maximilien Robespierre.” She paused. “Did you say emissary?”

Adjusting her skirts, Scarlet said, “Oh my, yes, my dear. I’ve been touring, getting a taste of France, as it were. What luck that I should stumble upon you right before we set sail.”