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“You know,” I said. “Who would know this body was Margot and not me? We look a lot alike. It would be easier to hide if everyone thought we were dead already. . .”

Tilly’s normally stoic mouth twitched up.

“Just as you wish, Miss Léonie. I’ll make sure when your husband comes back, he finds you right here.”

“Thank you. Thank you,” I gasped. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Mention my name,” Armand said, “My Da has worked in the house there for decades now.”

“We would love for you to come too,” Hugo assured him. “Your loyalty will go both ways, I promise.”

“Go now,” Tilly said, and they hurried us back to the truck as Armand quickly changed the blown tire.

“So grateful,” I whispered, running on adrenaline, knowing I couldn’t afford to crash yet.

Then I had to get in and drive quickly, the sweat slick on my chest as the sun pounded down on us, since the dust of the oncoming trucks was close now, and closer.

But Hugo’s calm strength guided me unerringly across the unmarked mountain trails, his clever, logical brain able to follow Armand’s hasty directions even though he’d been locked away.

It was his first time in the world in many years, but his eyes stayed fixed on the road, concentrating carefully, because we had no time to lose.

Would they take us in?

We drove over steep hills and down sharp switchbacks as the sun beat down on the windshield and Ciel rolled in my belly and my gut swam with unease.

Until at last I felt the taste of fresh water on my tongue, and we rolled through the trees and up to an iron gate with old-fashioned scrollwork, gently dappled with moss.

It looked like some abandoned fairy home, a beautiful jewel hidden away from the rest of the world.

I reached over and gripped Hugo’s hand, my heartbeat fluttering like a hummingbird’s.

“What do you think they’ll say? We come from two notorious families they probably hate.”

He looked disheveled and bloody, but the grin at his newfound freedom almost split his face as he winked encouragingly at me.

“Let’s go. Who could resist you, Léonie? Even covered in blood.”

And together we got out and rang the doorbell. . .

CHAPTER 14

Léonie

Afew days later I could barely believe my change of fortune and my pulse still hadn’t gone back to normal.

We had been greeted by a wizened old man who looked skeptical at our bloody appearance until Hugo mentioned the magic name of Armand.

And then we were brought in to visit Jeanne and Odilia Savatier.

They were in their mid-70s, tall and elegant, with gentle faces and old-fashioned, well-made clothes.

The Savatiers had clearly been hidden peacefully away for a while, their beautiful green-gabled home facing the lake, bound on one side by a steep cliff and the other side the docks.

But they still loved beautiful things. They still loved comfort. And Hugo was very persuasive.

They began to think about the beautiful things they could get with the eldest son of the Bastides who had been running the logistics for their entire operation. . .

Jeanne and Odilia were lazy, indolent, and kind, and at night they told us stories of when their families had been aristocrats.