Chapter 18

Three days after the duel, Paris was alive with rumors. Officially, the papers reported that Marquis de Montfort had died suddenly of a "hunting accident," but society's inner circles buzzed with the truth: a dawn duel had been fought, and the Duke had triumphed. Vivienne's name was whispered in every parlor—sometimes with scandal, sometimes with sympathy, but always with fascination.

Within the safe walls of Alexander's mansion, Vivienne sought a return to calm. Alexander's arm was healing, and he attended to smoothing over any fallout from Lucien's demise. Each evening he returned to Vivienne's side, reassuring her that her reputation, while the subject of gossip, was intact under his public endorsement.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Vivienne was alone in the estate's sunlit drawing room, writing a letter. She had decided to accept Gabriel's offer of a correspondence to keep their friendship; it was the least she could do after all he had done. She carefully penned words of gratitude and gentle farewell.

A maidservant hesitantly entered. "My lady, pardon the intrusion… There is someone at the servants' entrance asking to speak with you. She refuses to give her name, but I recognize her—it is Mademoiselle Celeste."

Vivienne set down her quill, pulse jumping. Celeste here? Likely the last confrontation had not been enough for her. For a moment, Vivienne considered refusing the meeting. But curiosity and a sense of finality compelled her.

"Show her to the rose salon. I will receive her shortly," Vivienne said.

She smoothed her skirts and took a calming breath before stepping into the small salon off the foyer where tea was sometimes served. Celeste stood by the window, partially veiled by a dark cloak. Gone was her usual glamorous confidence; she looked pale and tense.

Vivienne closed the door behind her. "You have nerve coming here, Celeste," she began quietly.

Celeste turned. Even without full makeup or finery, her beauty was striking, but today there were dark circles under her eyes. "Believe me, this was not done lightly," she replied. Her tone lacked its usual venom; it sounded almost… humbled.

Vivienne arched a brow, maintaining a cool poise. "Why are you here?"

Celeste's fingers twisted in front of her. "To settle matters between us. One way or another." She lifted her chin, some of her bravado returning. "The Marquis is dead. Your Duke stands unscathed. By all accounts, you've won, Vivienne."

Vivienne inclined her head slightly. "I never sought a war, Celeste. You were the one playing games."

Celeste gave a short, bitter laugh. "We all play games. I did what I thought I had to, to secure my own position. When you arrived on the scene, capturing hearts I had been working on for years, do you think I could just politely step aside? This life doesn't afford gentility between the likes of us."

Vivienne felt a pang of understanding. She softened slightly. "I know. We claw our way from nothing, you and I. But you chose to become my enemy when you might have been an ally. We could have ruled this city together, perhaps, instead of tearing each other down."

Celeste's eyes flashed with frustration—and regret. She approached a pace. "Perhaps. But I was never as good as you at... at inspiring men's devotion. I envied that. And I resented how effortlessly you seemed to eclipse me." She sighed, the fight leaving her shoulders. "Envy makes one cruel. I can admit that much."

It was the closest to an apology Vivienne expected to hear. She studied Celeste in the afternoon light. "And now? What do you want from me?"

Celeste's gaze dropped. "Montfort was my great backer. With him gone, I have... few prospects in Paris at the moment. Doors that were open are now closed, thanks to the stink of this scandal and my association with it. I've decided to leave the city for a time—perhaps travel to Vienna or London to find patronage anew." She swallowed pride. "I came to see if you would hinder me further... or allow me to depart in peace."

The implication hung in the air: Celeste feared Vivienne might use her newfound influence to ruin her completely. The thought had crossed Vivienne's mind in angry moments—that the simplest way to end Celeste's threat was to destroy her reputation with a few well-placed whispers. How ironic that the woman who had tried to orchestrate Vivienne's downfall now stood before her seeking mercy.

Vivienne stepped closer until she and Celeste were face to face. "I have no desire to ruin you, Celeste," she said softly. "Despite everything, I gain nothing from your destruction. Go, start fresh somewhere if that's what you want. I won't stand in your way."

Celeste's eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn't expected clemency. She blinked, gathering herself. "That's surprisingly gracious of you."

Vivienne gave a faint, wry smile. "Not gracious. Practical. Our feud is over. You lost this round, but life is long. Let's not tempt fate by continuing hostilities."

Celeste nodded slowly. She drew a breath, looking as though a weight had lifted from her back. "Very well." She hesitated, then added, "For what it's worth, Vivienne, I truly am sorry for some of the uglier things I did. It got out of hand."

It was the closest thing to an apology she could give. Vivienne accepted it with a slight nod. "And I'm sorry it came to this. I hope you find what you're looking for, Celeste."

A ghost of her old smile curved Celeste's lips. "Take care, Vivienne. May we never find ourselves on opposite sides again." With that, she swept past Vivienne and left the salon, cloak swishing behind her.

Vivienne remained still, listening to the faint sound of the maid letting Celeste out the servant's door. A chapter of rivalry and peril was closing. Instead of vindictive triumph, she felt a melancholy relief.

She returned to the drawing room and gazed out at the garden where spring flowers were blooming in earnest. Her life's landscape had been pruned of its most poisonous elements—Lucien gone, Celeste departed. The quiet was strange and new.

In that quiet, she noticed Alexander in the garden, walking along the path toward the house, likely back early from his meetings. He spotted her in the window and gave a warm wave. Vivienne felt her heart flutter pleasantly.

Yes, there were still challenges ahead. Whispers in society would take time to settle; her unconventional position would always raise some eyebrows. But she had allies—Alexander's unwavering support, Gabriel's loyal friendship from afar, and her own sharpened wits. She had survived envy, violence, and the ghosts of her past.

Vivienne stepped away from the window to greet Alexander at the door, a soft smile playing on her lips. She realized she finally had what she had been fighting for all along: not just security and influence, but the freedom to be herself, openly and without fear. And that was a victory sweeter than any revenge.