“I am saying that you should maintain secrecy until we know for sure. I see nothing here that even hints at his innocence. He is responsible for people’s deaths, Scarlet. What do we really know about him except that he dances the waltz with perfection and knows how to win over the ladies?”

Her mind flew in all directions. The very strength of the ground beneath her began to give way. “I will prove it to you. He is as innocent as you or I.” She turned from Simon.

“Just be careful. All our lives are in your hands. Your own life, even Abelino’s. Do not bare yourself to Matteo.”

She ran from him, his words filling her mind as she hurried back through the rose garden. Thorns tore at her gown as she rushed by, cutting through narrow, underused walkways. Almost unaware of everything around her, she began to run faster. Where was Matteo? She had to find him, to look into his face. A mound of pink fabric stepped into the middle of the path, blocking Scarlet’s escape. She nearly ran it down.

“Upon my word! Lady Cavendish. What is the matter?”

Scarlet stopped, annoyance filling whatever room remained in her heart for emotion. “Lady Pinckney, if you will excuse me. I must find Matteo.”

She smiled a coy, secretive smile. “Then you are in luck. For we have just left him this instant, over by the gazebo in front of the pond.”

She looked too pleased with herself, but Scarlet had no room to care. She turned from her and walked toward the pavilion. What would she say to Matteo? How could she discover his innocence? She wanted to blurt the whole of it out in front of him, to lay out the accusations against him and hear his response. He would deny it. She would see the truth of it in his face, and then they would figure out how his signature came to be at the bottom of that letter. She turned another corner, following a path of hedges and arbors with vines, when the sound of a voice froze her feet where they stood.

“Thank you, Matteo,” Éléonore purred. “And Robespierre sends his thanks for your continued loyalty to France.”

Her laugh rang out and grated Scarlet’s raw emotion. What did the woman mean, continued loyalty? Dread filled her and weighed her to the earth. Her feet felt too heavy to move.

“I must return to the ballroom.”

Matteo’s voice sounded pinched, tired. Did he dread returning to her?

Éléonore chuckled. “Does your love know about us? Does she know you seek me in the dead of night?”

Scarlet stepped closer to hear what she most dreaded, and Éléonore’s next words tore at her last threads of hope.