And now, French soldiers and dignitaries mixed with her league and other French and English nobles in an evening soiree she hosted in her Paris home, just twenty-four hours after their successful escape from LeFevre. This sort of frivolity required a different kind of strength, one she hoped she could maintain.

A bold move, she knew she risked much, even though most in the room carried some form of diplomatic immunity. And she had found time and again, if she stood strong and in the open without flinching, it did more for her deception than cowering in the dark. People rarely suspected the obvious.

Interestingly, the Baron de Batts, a Hungarian by birth, also mingled amongst her guests. The tension in the room felt thick at times. The baron loathed any member of the Committee of Public Safety and did nothing to hide his hatred. As a Hungarian citizen and friend of the English, he maintained the strongest immunity and therefore felt free to make his antagonistic sentiments clear to all.

Scarlet took a deep calming breath. If they could just get through this night, all would be well. Their cover would be complete, and they could travel to England in the morning. She almost began to calm but jolted back into high awareness when Bernard LeFevre himself entered through the front door. His eyes scanned the room, narrowing when he found Andrew.

Andrew noticed him immediately but let his eyes slip past the man as if he did not know him.

Impressive control of emotions.

Soon Monsieur LeFevre took purposeful strides in her direction. She pushed all thought away and found her inner blank and ridiculous state, which she grabbed with both hands. With any luck he would be convinced of her utter idiocy and inability to do anything at all to harm the Revolution.

“Why, Bernard! How good of you to come! We have so many of your dear soldiers here and members of your committee.” She reached her hand out to him.

He bowed over it. “You have a diverse group here. Many of my men, as you mentioned, and many of yours as well.” He raised an eyebrow, watching her closely.

Fishing.

She blushed and placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh, you flatter me, monsieur. I wouldn’t say many, no. Perhaps one or two have succumbed to my charms, poor dears. They never do recover, you know. Totally lost to me; even when they marry, a piece of their hearts remains loyal.” She shook her head sadly.

She bit back a smile as she noticed him grit his teeth. “You misunderstand. Your rescue efforts last evening. Your same men are here.”