“Perhaps someone mentioned that purple is not the color of the Season after all. Instead of being the first to wear the color, you are on the cusp of being the last. I miscalculated, darling, and I’m sorry. We will do better next time.”

What game was she playing? He looked around. No one could possibly overhear. “We are alone—”

“Too true. Let us return to the ballroom. We have been out of eyesight long enough. Shall we dance a third time? Shock everyone just a little bit? They will expect it of us, so much in love as we appear to be.”

“Appear . . . ?”

Lady Pinckney arrived at their side. “Oh, Lady Durand, Comtesse. I’m so happy I found you. Have you heard? Oh, I’m sure you haven’t. It is fresh from France. I heard only this very moment, but the DuPont family—all of them, even the grandchild—have been executed. Oh, that awful France. When will it stop?”

Pain filled Matteo’s head, and lights flashed in front of his eyes.

Scarlet’s body went still, her face a stone. She turned to him with unyielding eyes of steel.

Emotion so great it paralyzed him rose up inside. He had to finish the evening, be generous to his guests, but he didn’t know how. “Excuse me.” He bowed curtly to them both and entered through a side door, seeking the men and the cards and the brandy.

“Tsk tsk, Matteo. Trouble with your new love?” Éléonore slinked in front of him.

He grabbed her wrists before she could touch any part of him. “Leave my home. Now.”

“No need to get angry, mon ami.”

“We had an agreement, and the DuPonts are already dead. Get out, and never return.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits and she hissed while speaking. “You don’t want that, darling. Because others would suffer. This is what I do. You must know. I am cleansing France, and I will continue to do so with your name unless you do exactly as I say whenever I say it.” She changed her tone to a more placating one. “Potier walks every morning down the lane and across the field to a pond to fish, just like he did when we were little. Such a dear man, really.”

“Get out, Éléonore. You have done enough evil for one night.”

“As you wish.” She nodded her head. “But I will be in touch.”