A/N: Chapter two is started, just one day after I've finished chapter one. I'm on a writing spree as of late. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my newfound friend, Citizen Chauvelin. Her stories have inspired me and I now have an idea as to where this one will go. Enjoy it! I'm going camping on Thursday, but I'll try to write chapter three while I'm away.

Lovers Chapter Two: The Finest Actress In All of Europe

When Marguerite reached her bedroom on the third floor of the Blakeney manor, she found that someone was already there. Paul was standing by the window, robed in shadow. The sight of him sent chills up and down her back, just as it always had. Dimly, she heard Percy talking to someone in the library. In a quiet voice, she asked Paul what he was doing there.

"Dearest," he replied, "is it a crime to want to see the woman I love?" Marguerite's eyes widened. Paul loved her. In all the years he had been her lover, he had never said those words, until now, when she belonged to another man. As these words sank in, Marguerite half-ran to Paul and threw her arms about his neck.

"You do love me!" she cried quietly. "All those years, when we were together in France, I was never quite sure."

"Be sure now, my dear, that I love you with all my heart. I'm sure that fool you call your husband could not say the same, for he trusts others more than you, does he not?" Paul's breath was warm on her neck, and Marguerite found herself slowly losing grip of everything she knew, everything but the man who stood before her now.

"Please, Paul, do not mention Percy again. The pain this causes me, to realize he does not love me, I cannot bear it."

"Forget Percy," Paul said smoothly. "Forget every man you've ever known, except me." At Paul's words, Marguerite remembered when Percy had said the very same thing to her, and how she had loved him then. She did not feel the same towards him now. "Come back to France with me, dearest, and the world will be ours once again."

Marguerite struggled to hold on to reality as Paul kissed her neck lightly. "Percy," she said. "Percy will wonder. And as much as I know I cannot love someone I cannot trust, I still care for the man."

"Well, then, Margot, get him to tell you himself that he is the Pimpernel. Then make an excuse to come to France. Heaven knows that if any woman could do that, that woman is you, for you are the finest actress in all of Europe." Marguerite nodded.

"I will get it out of him tonight, and meet you here, at the manor, in the rose garden, tomorrow at noon," Marguerite promised. Chauvelin kissed her again before picking up his hat and cloak and striding to the door. "Wait," Marguerite said urgently. "Let me go first and make sure Percy isn't about."

After making sure that Percy was still in the library, Marguerite led Paul to the door, bidding him goodnight.

"Until tomorrow, my love," he replied.

Smiling, Marguerite knocked on the door of the library, which stood slightly ajar. From inside she could hear the voices of Percy, Tony Dewhurst, and Andrew Ffoulkes.

"We can't leave for France tonight, men," Percy was saying. "Chauvelin knows who I am now, and he'll be leaving for France soon, he'll catch me then."

Marguerite, certain she was not supposed to be hearing this, knocked again, louder.

"Marguerite, darling!" Percy exclaimed, opening the door to allow her entry. "Have you need of anything?"

"I do have a question for you, Percy," Marguerite said slowly, eyeing Tony and Andrew with apparent embarrassment. Oh, she thought, this is going to be too easy…. "But it's a bit, well, personal." Percy turned towards Tony and Andrew and raised an eyebrow.

"Sink me!" Percy said with a slight smile. "Gentlemen, we will finish our discussion tomorrow. My lady wishes to make an inquiry." Turning to Marguerite, he held out his hands to her. She took them, and, standing up on her toes, kissed Percy's lips. Percy made a surprised noise, then scooped her up in his arms and swung her around. Setting her down, he asked, "Now, milady, what is it you wanted to ask me?"

"Nothing, Percy. But how else was I supposed to get them to leave?"

"Leave, darling?"

"Yes, Percy. A wife should be entitled to some time alone with her husband, should she not?" Marguerite smiled coyly, looking up at her husband through her eyelashes.

"And yet, love, I sense there is a question in your mind."

Marguerite simply smiled and took Percy's hand, leading him upstairs. On the way to Percy's quarters, she asked, "I do have a question Percy. Do you love me?"

"Yes, my darling, I love you with all my heart," Percy said. Marguerite looked into his eyes, and she saw curiosity, and secrets, and love. And yet she knew now that Percy was an actor. He could make people believe whatever he wanted them to. And now he was trying to make her believe he loved her. The fool! She heard Paul's voice in her mind. He lies to your face, darling. Never trust him again.

"Show me," Marguerite said earnestly. She knew that if she could get Percy to let his guard down, even for a moment, he would tell her the truth. Upon reaching Percy's quarters, she turned and brought her lips to his again. As he kissed her, his hands found the ties on the back of her dress. As he undid them, Marguerite tried to lose herself in his touch, the way she had done with Chauvelin's, as a last test of her love for him, but she could not. She kept remembering how he had spoken to her that morning when he said, "What has poor Armand done to be condemned to matrimony?"

"Percy?" she said breathlessly

"Yes, darling?" Percy said, in between kisses.

"You're the Scarlet Pimpernel, aren't you?" Percy stopped kissing her abruptly. Pulling back, he gazed into her face.

"What makes you think that, love?"

"Percy, I love you dearly, did you not think I would recognize your voice?" Marguerite said, lying through her teeth.

"Yes, love, the Pimpernel is me." As he said this, Percy let a forlorn expression take over his features.

"Darling, you look so distressed. Have I upset you?"

"No, Marguerite, I am relieved to have told you at last. Why did you bring this up now, though?"

"Well, I did just meet you in the library, darling, at the ball. I didn't know before then," Marguerite stopped, trying to plaster an uncomfortable and nervous look on her face. "There is another reason as well. Chauvelin knows. You know he knows, I told you in the library. But when we arrived home tonight," Marguerite paused, her mind working quickly to give her a story, "When we arrived home tonight, Chauvelin was in my room. He's captured my brother, unless I spy for him, Chauvelin will kill him." This bit was, in fact, partly true. Chauvelin did know Armand as in league with the Pimpernel, and he was going to kill him, unless he knew the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Armand was now safe, but Percy didn't have to know that, Marguerite decided.

"Armand?"

"The very same." Marguerite tried to hide her smirk as she repeated Paul's words.

"I must go back to France immediately!" Percy said intensely. "Armand is one of my most valuable men, I cannot lose him, I—"

"Hush, darling," Marguerite said, placing her fingers over Percy's mouth. "It would not be wise to go to France now, Chauvelin will be expecting you. Send me to France. As the best actress in the country, I can assure you, Chauvelin will not suspect a thing. He's under the impression that—well, let's just say I can easily fool him."

"Marguerite, this is too dangerous for you. I cannot risk your life as well as Armand's. Please, love, do not go to France."

"Percy, I must. Armand is my brother, and Chauvelin was my lover, years ago. I can do this, please trust me." Marguerite stared into Percy's eyes.

Percy stared back. After a full minute, he quietly said, "Very well, you may go to France to save your brother."

"Thank you, Percy," Marguerite said, hugging him tightly. "You don't know what this means to me, to be able you help you and save my brother. And now, where were we?"

She reached up to kiss Percy, but he took her hands and kissed them and said, "I'm sorry, Marguerite, not tonight." He walked over to the window and looked out. Marguerite turned and left the room without another word.

When she reached her bedroom, she threw up her hands and spun, her skirts swirling about her. She felt happy, and excited, the way she always did when she pulled off a successful performance. As she washed her face and changed into her nightdress, she wondered vaguely what in the world she was doing. She was willingly leaving her husband for another man, something she would have never considered doing at any point in her life. Yet here she was. She pondered over the evening, remembering the excitement she had felt around Chauvelin, and the betrayal she felt from Percy, and realized that she did not love her husband at all.

As Marguerite lay on top of her bedclothes the only thing she thought was of Chauvelin, of when he had kissed her at the ball. She knew he desired her, she could always read it in his eyes. And although she would admit it to no one, she desired him too. She had never forgotten his love, not even when Percy stepped in. She had never forgotten him, despite Percy telling her to forget every man she had ever known, and even now the mere sight of him sent her reeling. His emerald eyes could read her soul, and the slightest touch captivated her. His mystery and darkness intrigued her. He excited her, and frightened her, made her nervous, and she was completely in love with him.

As she slept, she dreamed of him. Dreamed what it would be like when she sailed back to France with him, the things they would do…

"Margot, get down here, don't make me come up after you!" Paul was standing on the main deck of the ship, smiling up at Marguerite, who was standing at the top of a small staircase. At Paul's words, she stepped up onto the railing and jumped into his arms. He caught her and kissed her and swung her around. She glanced over his shoulder and saw Percy standing where she had been, looking down on her with a look of utter rage. She simply smirked and turned her back on him, forever…