Chapter 16

Two nights later, the Duke insisted on accompanying Vivienne to a prestigious opera premiere. It was their first public appearance since the Marquis' assault and Alexander's open declaration that Vivienne was under his exclusive protection. Whispers trailed them as they arrived at the gilded theater—some curious, some disapproving—but Alexander kept her hand firmly on his arm, signaling his unwavering support.

Vivienne wore a stunning emerald-green gown Alexander had commissioned for her, and a necklace of glittering diamonds rested at her throat. She looked every inch the consort of a duke, but inside her nerves fluttered. She had not forgotten Gabriel's plea in the garden, and now she faced the prying eyes of society while harboring a turbulent heart.

During intermission, Alexander guided her through the marble foyer where champagne flowed and aristocrats mingled. Many bowed or nodded to Alexander, and by extension to Vivienne. She noticed, however, that a few ladies whispered behind fans, casting sly looks her way. The rumors were spreading—likely fanned by Celeste or even Lucien from the shadows. Her hidden identity was fraying at the edges.

As they paused near a gilded column, a familiar voice, honey-sweet and edged with malice, rang out. "Lady Vivienne, how radiant you look this evening." Celeste stood there on the arm of an older baron, her golden gown catching the light. Her smile was polite, but her eyes gleamed with cunning.

Vivienne returned a thin smile. "Mademoiselle Celeste. What a lovely surprise." Alexander tensed subtly beside Vivienne; he was well aware of Celeste's antagonism by now.

Celeste fluttered her fan. "I was just telling Baron Dumas that it is truly inspiring, how far some people can rise with enough… determination." She tilted her head at Vivienne, the insinuation clear. "Your story, my dear—why, it's almost like something out of a novel."

Baron Dumas coughed, looking a bit uncomfortable. Vivienne's spine stiffened. This was a veiled attack if ever there was one. "Indeed?" Vivienne answered coolly. "One hopes it's a novel with a happy ending."

Celeste's red lips curved. "That depends on the ending, doesn't it? Of course, beginnings can be quite humble." She gave a false little laugh. "I believe we may have a mutual acquaintance from years ago, Vivienne. A Madame Bisset? She mentioned to me she knew you when you were just a girl—before you blossomed into the toast of Paris."

Vivienne's blood ran cold. Madame Bisset had been a seamstress on her street in childhood—a possible loose thread from her past. Celeste must have been digging.

Alexander stepped forward, his voice cutting. "I'm not sure what you're implying, Mademoiselle. But this hardly seems the place for such personal reminiscing."

Celeste feigned surprise. "Oh, I meant no offense, Your Grace. I merely find Lady Vivienne's journey fascinating. Rising from modest means to such heights… truly admirable." Her smile sharpened as her gaze flicked over Vivienne's diamonds. "It gives hope to others of common birth that they too might catch a noble's eye."

A hush had fallen around them. Several nearby guests pretended not to eavesdrop, but their silence was telling. Vivienne felt heat in her cheeks—not purely embarrassment, but anger. Celeste intended to drag her secret into the open right here, piece by piece.

Vivienne drew a steadying breath. Enough. If exposure was inevitable, she would seize control of the narrative. She gently disengaged her hand from Alexander's arm and took a step toward Celeste and the baron.

"You're correct, Celeste," she said, clearly enough for those around them to hear. "I did not come from riches. It's true that my family was of humble origin. My father was a merchant, not a noble. I have never pretended otherwise to those who truly know me." Her heart pounded, but she held her head high, channeling every ounce of poise.

A startled murmur rippled through the small crowd. Celeste's smile faltered; she had not expected Vivienne to admit it so plainly.

Vivienne continued, voice unwavering. "I am not ashamed of having worked to better my circumstances. I have been fortunate to earn the friendship and patronage of generous souls." She gave Alexander a grateful glance. "And yes, the affections of a great man who sees my worth beyond birth or title."

Alexander's face shone with pride. He moved to Vivienne's side, slipping an arm around her waist in solidarity. "Lady Vivienne's honesty only increases my regard for her," he announced to the onlookers. "In an age where so many hide behind false titles and hypocrisy, she stands true. I count myself lucky to have her by my side."

A few people clapped politely at the Duke's declaration; others exchanged uncertain looks. Celeste looked as if she'd bitten into a lemon. Vivienne felt a surge of triumph at the stymied malice in the rival courtesan's eyes.

Baron Dumas cleared his throat, addressing Vivienne with new respect. "My dear, in my experience, character is far more important than pedigree. Pay the gossip no mind." He shot Celeste a reproving look, having sensed her ploy.

Celeste's cheeks flared red. But her embarrassment quickly twisted into venom. "Brava," she said with saccharine venom. "What a stirring performance. But tell me, was it also determination that led to the Marquis de Montfort's... shall we say… keen interest in you recently?"

The mention of Lucien was like a dagger drawn in the open. Alexander's grip on Vivienne tightened. Around them, ears pricked—everyone knew of the Marquis's sudden falling-out with the Duke, though details were scarce.

Vivienne's stomach clenched, but she kept her expression steeled. Before she could respond, a smooth voice cut in.

"That is a question I'd be most interested to hear answered." Marquis Lucien de Montfort stepped forward from the cluster of guests, elegant in his evening attire, eyes glittering. A hush fell. It was rare for such open confrontations in high society, yet here they were—nearly a scene from a scandal sheet.

Alexander moved Vivienne subtly behind him, face dark with barely restrained anger. "Montfort," he said icily. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Lucien offered a thin smile. His gaze flicked to Vivienne and lingered, making her skin crawl despite Alexander's protection. "Why ever not? The opera is a public delight, and I wouldn't miss it." He tilted his head, false cordiality dripping from his tone. "Lady Vivienne, it's good to see you looking well. I trust you received the... ah... care you needed after our last meeting."

A collective gasp rose at his suggestive words. Vivienne felt Alexander bristle with rage.

"That is enough," Alexander growled. "Montfort, you overstep yourself."

Lucien raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. "Do I? Perhaps I worry for the lady's reputation. After all, tongues wag. Some say she went willingly to your townhouse that night, others that you lured her. Which should we believe?" He looked around theatrically. "It would be a terrible scandal if a Duke were shielding a woman who had cuckolded him with another man."

Vivienne's heart thundered with panic and fury. Lucien was turning the narrative as if she had been his willing mistress. She opened her mouth to protest, but Alexander's fury erupted first.

"You dare impugn her honor?" Alexander's voice rang through the foyer. Conversations all around had ceased; all eyes were on the unfolding drama. "Vivienne is under my protection. The only scoundrel here is you, Montfort."

Celeste stepped back, eyes shining with glee at the chaos she had sown. Lucien's nostrils flared. "Careful, Your Grace. Those are strong words."

"Not nearly strong enough for what you deserve," Alexander snapped. "You are a liar and a coward."

A tremor went through Vivienne; men had been shot at dawn for less. Lucien's face went deathly cold. "I will not be insulted by you in public," he hissed. "You think your ducal title makes you invincible? I demand satisfaction."

Gasps and whispers. The challenge hung in the air. Alexander did not hesitate. "As you wish. Pistols or swords?"

Vivienne clutched his arm. "Alexander, please—"

He gently removed her hand, his eyes never leaving Lucien's. "This ends now."

Lucien sneered. "Pistols, at dawn. Tomorrow in the Bois de Boulogne. Bring your second, if you have one brave enough."

"I'll be there," Alexander replied sharply.

Guards who served as security for the event were now approaching, sensing trouble. Lucien gave Vivienne one last scathing glare. "I look forward to teaching you a lesson in loss, Your Grace," he said to Alexander with dark promise. Then he turned on his heel and strode out, cloak billowing behind him.

The foyer buzzed to life with shocked chatter. Celeste attempted to slip away as well, but Vivienne caught her by the wrist, surprising even herself. "I hope you're pleased with the destruction you've wrought," Vivienne said in a low, furious voice.

Celeste yanked her wrist free, eyes hard. "This is the price of playing above your station, Vivienne. Enjoy the fall." With that, she spun and vanished into the crowd.

Alexander drew Vivienne into his arms protectively as theater officials approached asking if everything was alright. Alexander assured them all would be handled and quickly escorted Vivienne out to their carriage.

Inside the privacy of the coach, as horses lurched into motion, Vivienne trembled with fear. "You shouldn't have agreed," she whispered, voice breaking. "Duels are madness. He is an expert shot, I've heard—"

Alexander took her face in his hands. "Hush, my love." His own face was taut but resolved. "He left me no choice. I'll not have him drag you through the mud. This is the only language a cur like him understands."

Tears welled in Vivienne's eyes. "If anything happens to you—"

He pressed a fierce kiss to her lips, silencing her worries. "I have no intention of falling, Vivienne. I have too much to live for." He pulled her into his embrace. She clung to him, silent tears dampening his coat.

The duel was set. At dawn's first light, the man she loved would face the man she most feared, with deadly weapons in hand. Vivienne's entire body shook with dread at that thought. She had survived so many threats, but this—this could shatter everything.

As the carriage rattled through the dark streets towards home, Vivienne prayed for a way to avert tragedy. But time was short, and honor demanded blood. All she could do was hold Alexander close through the night, her heart pounding with a single desperate refrain: let him live, let him live, let him live.