She blushed. “I mean no disrespect to Rupert. Matteo is just—”

“Deliciously irresistible.”

“Your Highness!”

Prince George clucked his tongue. “My dear, how shocked you seem. It is perfectly acceptable for you to find a new love. Dear Rupert will not be harmed by it, to be sure.”

Scarlet felt her cheeks burn, and she looked up into his eyes to see sincerity and real concern written in them. “Thank you. I find I am unsure how to proceed, but as Rupert’s dearest friend, you have alleviated some of my worry.”

“Not at all, my dear. Now, shall we discuss my sleeves? Are they not the most elegant cut of all?”

Scarlet grinned. “Why, yes, I was noticing their drape. They seem to flow out in great layers from your wrists, just so. Mark my words, by this week next, all the men will be wearing them.”

Once satisfied, she knew he would move on to consult her about his cravat and the cut of his jacket. When they had, at length, exhausted all fashion subjects, she concluded with what she hoped would lead to a productive moment. “I admit, I wished to return from Paris with new fabrics and ideas for gowns.”

Shaking his head, the prince frowned. “Again you were visiting Paris, that horror. Whatever made you wish such a thing upon yourself?”

Eyes wide, innocent, Scarlet said, “In my new position as your personal emissary.”

“Oh, that.” His lips pursed. “My dear, I hadn’t expected you to actually visit. I quake at the nightmares you may have witnessed.”

“Oh, it was not as bad as all that. But the fashion was abysmal. No head pieces, nothing new on their feet. The ladies looked positively dreadful. And the men! Not a single crisp cravat amongst the lot of them.”

“No!” Prince George closed his eyes.

“They have lost their presentation.” Scarlet nodded gravely. “I do believe they fear for their lives, trying to hide what wealth might be had among them.”

Prince George sighed. “That is the true tragedy of the whole mess. We can be grateful for the Pimpernel and his blessed interference.”

Scarlet considered him. “And their pastries! Not a good bakery to be found on the streets of Paris. All have closed their doors.”

“Tragic! Fortuitous we lured our maestro, Chef Louis, to come and cook at Carlton House, is it not? Try the pastries tonight. They are his own family recipe.”

“Well, I can be grateful for that. To think, I must return to England in order to taste a true French pastry.”

The music ended and the prince bowed low while Scarlet curtsied. Smiling with kindness, he said, “Lovely as always to spend time with you. Would you and that French prince of yours return tomorrow? I feel we had better discuss what can be done.”

Exultant, she kept her response to a nod. “Yes, of course. We will come as soon as we have had our morning repast.”