Eyes opened wider, Matteo goaded, “Ah, two princes battling for your lovely hand?” He sat up straighter in his seat and inflated his chest. “I feel I am up for the challenge.”

She tapped him lightly on the shoulder with her fan. “It is nothing like that at all. Remember, you are to be the prince’s new friend, his confidante. We must earn his trust.”

Chuckling, he said, “Of that, I am fully aware. Never fear, dear maiden. I will not neglect my duty.” He frowned. “My other duty is not so pleasant. I am to—what was it you said—charm and woo the ladies.” His eyes showed his disbelief and distaste for such a task.

Scarlet tipped her head. “You will see that the most popular lords and nobles tend to have the most power. Let us win them all this evening, and then you must be prepared, for they will disturb our peace from this point on with their incessant morning calls and visits and invitations.”

Matteo moaned. “For France.”

Scarlet nodded. “For France.”

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Matteo exited first so that he could help Scarlet down. In the moment she had alone, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The part she was about to play had never felt so bothersome as it did today. A week of the refreshing sincerity Matteo offered and expected had quite spoiled her for the facetious, ever-rolling tide of the ton.

He held out his hand. As she placed hers in his palm, she realized just how comfortable it felt right there.

She ducked her head lower than usual to make room for her rather tall headdress. Even so, several of her tallest plumes bent as she exited.

He chuckled. “You are almost as tall as I with that monstrosity on your head.”

Gasping, with a hand to her throat, she said, “Why, Matteo, do you not love them? They are all the rage. After today, you will see many a lady with similar colors, I assure you.” She turned her head to one side and then the other so that he could get the best view of her purple and yellow feathers tipped in gold.

He grinned. “Hmm. Shall I? More’s the pity.”

Scarlet’s laughter began low and appreciative, but as they neared the entrance, it raised in intensity and volume until Matteo watched her in surprise. She nudged him with her fingers, which were resting on his arm. He immediately joined in with her, laughing louder and throwing his head back in abandon.

Through his teeth he asked, “Just what are we still laughing about, Lady Cavendish?”

She leaned in and whispered, “Absolutely nothing. Well done. You will do just fine tonight.”

Matteo eyed her, his expression small parts amusement and distrust.