He leaned forward. “Perhaps I may reason with you. I do not denounce these good people any longer. I have grown up to adulthood and have seen them do many kind things for the less fortunate outside their gates. The Jardin family, for example, opened up a school for the poor. They provide food baskets to their tenants and the needier families in the area.” Then he accentuated each word with a tap at the table. “They are good people, Éléonore.”

She shook her head. “No doubt you have been deceived over time. I would much rather believe the words of an innocent, truthful youth than someone as jaded and selfishly motivated as you.”

Leaning back abruptly in his chair, he ran a hand through his hair.

She sipped her tea, watching him over the top of the cup. “I could be convinced to hold off on my denouncements, however—perhaps even burn the pile of letters.”

His eyes narrowed in distrust. “What is it you want from me?”

She placed her teacup back on the table and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Hand me the identity of the Pimpernel, and all the letters are yours. I promise not to denounce a single one.” She sat back with a satisfied air.

“The Pimpernel? No one knows who he is! I’ve been trying for weeks to find him, with no leads, not one!” He snorted. “And if I did know the man, I would never deliver him to you, not if I had to die in his place.”

She leaned forward. “So, you have been trying to find him!”

Matteo frowned at her. “Of course. I hoped to aid him in his rescues.”

She scowled. “Well, now you will aid me in finding him. Or I begin denouncing families from our childhood, one by one.” She paused, biting into a pastry. “Think, Matteo. It is a fair trade. You save the lives of six families in exchange for the name of one man. Until you find him, you work for me.”

He considered her for a moment. “I have tried myself already, as I have said.”

Éléonore smiled with satisfaction. “Your first task is to attend the Pinckneys’ dinner party on Tuesday. Lord Simon Devereaux will be there, and we know he has ties to the Pimpernel. Trail him, watch him, intercept all notes he might leave lying about.”

“I have agreed to nothing.”

“Then the first of your families will die when my post reaches France.”

Matteo stood, his tall body looming over her small one, breathing rapidly. He resisted the urge to toss her aside and instead considered his options. “I will attend, but I am certain I will discover nothing.”

Éléonore stood. “Come, darling. You cannot enjoy this estrangement from your home. Return to us. The cleansing that you find so distasteful will not last forever, and then you will witness France’s rise to greatness.”

“Leave my home.”