She approached him and ran her hands up his chest. He stiffened and reached to pull them away. Before he could stop her, a hand slid into his jacket pocket and took the letter. Reading the direction on the front, she said, “Oh, it’s from dear Potier. How I miss that codger. He has been quite difficult to track down, until now.” She again studied the direction on the front of the letter.

Matteo snatched it from her fingers. “He was like an uncle to you, like family.”

“Sometimes our families can be so disappointing. You now have one more reason to help me.”

His throat tightened. “Have you no more heart at all? What is it that beats in your chest?”

“Bring me to the Pinckneys’ party as your guest.”

“You are not welcome there.”

“I will be, if I come with you.”

Matteo’s jaw clenched and flexed. What choice did he have? Until he found a better solution, he would humor her requests. “Very well. Come here on Tuesday, and we shall drive over together.”

He called for a footman. “Please escort Miss Duplay to her carriage. She is leaving.”

As soon as she rounded the corner of the house, Matteo ran in through the back door. He took the steps three at a time, calling for extra paper and ink to be sent to his room immediately. He ripped open Potier’s letter. What would have been a comforting missive now filled him with dread. They had at last found a safe house and location. Potier had written in kindness to put Matteo’s mind at ease. That consideration could have sealed his death.

Matteo rushed to the table and began writing furiously, feverishly across the page. The first note he wrote to Potier, telling him that he must change location immediately. He tried to be as vague as possible. But he was sure Potier would understand. He then proceeded to write notes to every family he had ever complained about to Éléonore when they were young. Curse his misguided youth! He wrote as quickly as his hand would allow. Soon he had a stack of seven letters. He called for Parsons, his butler.

“Please, man. Call for an express rider immediately. These letters must reach the shores of France as quickly as possible.”

Parsons took them in his hands and hurried away. Matteo breathed deeply. As he exhaled, he prayed the letters would arrive in time and all recipients would be safe. For two more breaths he sat, commanding his heart to calm. Then he called for Edwards and began his preparations to visit Prince George. So much of France’s future lay in His Highness’s hands and in Matteo’s ability to sway him.

Chapter Twelve