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Sir Percy tapped a finger on his jaw. “We need a name, I think. The League to Save France?”
Angelette wrinkled her nose. “I thought the idea was not to be discovered. The name must not reveal who we are. How about the League...” She looked about for some sort of inspiration, and her gaze landed on his waistcoat. “The League of the Pimpernel. No, the Scarlet Pimpernel.”
He smiled. “That’s perfect! I only wish I could begin recruiting members now.”
“Perhaps you can,” Hugh said. He stepped into the doorway, and Angelette started with surprise.
“How long have you been there?” she asked. Had he heard all of their plan? She would have to be more careful in the future. And now she would have to change the name of their league. It wasn’t that she did not trust Hugh, but he was not one of them.
“Long enough to know that you need me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Hugh gestured to Sir Percy. “Clearly Blakeney needs to travel to London as soon as possible. In order to do so, he will need his papers. I propose Sir Percy depart with the baron and the de Mervilles and the baron use my papers to escape to London.”
“My lord, you understand that would leave you trapped in Paris.” Sir Percy rose.
Hugh’s gaze met Angelette’s. “I understand.”
“I don’t know that’s wise,” Sir Percy said. “I have contacts and know forgers. I can get new papers relatively quickly. It may take weeks for me to return and procure papers for you.”
Hugh shrugged, his gaze never leaving Angelette. “Then I wait weeks.”
“And what will you do if the people form mobs as they did before? They may begin murdering the nobility.”
“I’m not wholly without resources,” Hugh said. “As Angelette has mentioned, I know wine merchants all over the countryside. Most are loyal to me and would hide me or friends of mine if need be. Not to mention, wine barrels would make an excellent tool for slipping people out of the city.”
“You would help me?” Angelette gestured to Sir Percy. “Help us, I should say.”
“I too have funds,” Hugh went on. “And ships. It might be useful to have our own ships rather than relying on French captains.”
“That is all very true, and I would be glad to have you,” Sir Percy said. “But you did not answer the comtesse’s question.”
Hugh looked at her again. “You asked if I would help you.”
She nodded.
“The answer depends.”
“On?”
“On your answer.” He sank to one knee, and she inhaled sharply. “Angelette, will you marry me?”
“You can’t mean that,” she sputtered. “I’ve been nothing but trouble. You want to return to England. You cannot wish to tie yourself to me and Paris.”
“I do want to return to England, but I realized something else over the past few hours—I want to be wherever you are. London. Paris. Hell.”
She smiled, tears blurring her vision.
“I will follow you anywhere. You’ve utterly ruined me for any other woman.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her voice failing her.
“Say yes!” Sir Percy all but shouted.
She laughed. “Yes!”
Hugh rose and took her into his arms. He held her tightly, then lowered his mouth to kiss her. She had intended only to kiss him back briefly, but once their lips met she couldn’t seem to let go. After a moment she heard Sir Percy clear his throat. “I had better return to my lodgings and gather what I need. Tell the de Mervilles—never mind. I shall tell them myself.”
