Scarlet removed her veil and placed a hand on her heart, willing herself to calm. “Welcome, to all our passengers. Please stay hidden and silent until we have come safely to our rendezvous point.”

***

Once at their location in the woods, they built a fire and passed around tea. Scarlet began to pace in nervous agitation.

Simon joined her.

She said, “Still we have heard nothing?”

He shook his head. “The last we knew, they all safely hid in the carriage just as our group did and headed toward the west barricade.”

“Curse that Bibot! Our check-in point would have contacted us by now. Something is wrong. They are in danger.”

Simon gestured for one of the men to come forward. “Shall we send someone?”

Scarlet shook her head. “I must go myself.”

He shook his head and opened his mouth to protest, when a man came running forward, clutching his side.

“It is I, Courtenay.”

“Come,” Simon said. He and Scarlet ran to him, bearing his weight between them as Courtenay’s legs buckled.

“Quickly, bring some bandages,” Scarlet called out.

Courtenay gestured with one hand. “They have Andrew.”

She faltered, grabbing for Simon’s arm with her free hand.

“Stopped at the barricade. Bibot discovered the lot of us. We tried to fight them off, but it was no use, not with the crowd. I broke free to get word to you immediately, but Bibot himself nicked me with his sword.” He loosened the pressure at his side, and blood dripped into his palm.

They lowered him gently to the ground, and one of the league applied the bandages. Courtenay continued. “They took the lot of them back to la Place. About to be beheaded, all of them, post haste.” He paused, coughing. “We could not have known. I misjudged you, my lady. You are . . . remarkable.” He clutched his side and gritted his teeth from the pain.

She studied him; he was still in good color. He would recover—a blessed mercy.

Scarlet’s own knees went weak. She grabbed for her scarf and began to wrap it around her face. Her wig still in place, the bun came loose, and matted gray hair fell down around her shoulders.

Simon grabbed her forearm. “What are you doing?”

“I must go back. I cannot simply allow them to die.”

“I am coming.”

Scarlet nodded and ran for the nearest horse, and then they took off at a gallop through the woods. She pushed aside a heavy feeling of dread. The family must live. And Andrew must return to England’s safe shores. She urged her horse onward again, hoping to beat time, but a part of her knew she was already too late.

They arrived in the square during the slow, sleepy hours of the late afternoon. Shops were closed, and the remaining guillotine audience lolled about in the hot drunkenness of the over-indulged, resting out the high-sun hours.