Chapter 27

Dawn's pale light found Vivienne already awake. She sat at her vanity table, a silver-backed brush idle in her hand as she gazed unseeingly at her reflection. The events of the previous night played on a loop in her mind—the cryptic threat in the conservatory, Lucien's near-discovery of her midnight errand, and the weight of the locket now tucked safely away in a hidden compartment of her jewelry box. The tiny drawer remained ajar, the glint of the tarnished gold crest visible like a reproach.

A soft rap at her chamber door jolted Vivienne from her reverie. She quickly shut the compartment and schooled her features before calling, "Come in."

A maid entered, carrying a tray with steaming tea and fresh croissants. "Good morning, madame," the young woman said with a courteous curtsy. "His Grace asked me to bring up breakfast. He hopes you slept well and said he'll join you shortly."

Vivienne managed a polite smile. "Thank you, Elise." Her mind skipped at the mention of Lucien joining her for breakfast—so he wanted to observe her this morning, did he? After last night's encounter, she wasn't entirely surprised. "That will be all for now."

As the maid departed, Vivienne stood and threw on a light robe over her ivory nightgown. She took a steadying breath and mentally donned the persona that Lucien expected: composed, grateful, perhaps even a touch lovestruck after his midnight gallantry. Certainly not a woman harboring dangerous secrets.

She was pouring tea for herself when Lucien entered without ceremony. He moved with casual grace, as if this were already his room. In some ways it was—everything in this lavish estate ultimately answered to him, including, in a sense, Vivienne. The thought sent a brief flicker of resentment through her, which she quickly buried.

"Good morning," he greeted, voice smooth as silk. He had dressed impeccably in a tailored charcoal suit, looking every inch the influential duke he was rumored to be. Yet a softness touched his eyes when he looked at her.

"Lucien," she replied warmly. She lifted the porcelain teapot. "May I offer you a cup?"

He inclined his head, watching her keenly. "Please."

Vivienne busied herself with the simple task, aware of his gaze lingering on her as she poured. She felt oddly exposed despite being covered from neck to toe in thick satin and lace. Perhaps it was because she knew what lay beneath the veneer of this domestic scene—so many unspoken truths.

"I trust you slept better after our little walk?" Lucien asked as he accepted the cup from her hands, his fingers briefly brushing hers.

She nodded, taking a seat. "I did. Thank you, truly, for indulging me. The storm passed and I slept soundly after that." A lie, but one he likely expected. She certainly looked a bit wan this morning despite her efforts; no one who'd truly slept soundly would have such shadows under her eyes.

Lucien stirred a lump of sugar into his tea, considering her. "You seem tired still. Are you sure nothing else is amiss?"

Vivienne met his gaze with what she hoped was gentle reassurance. "I'm perfectly fine. Perhaps just a tad restless thinking about…things." She let a demure smile curve her lips, implying that her thoughts might have been of him.

It worked to an extent—Lucien's expression shifted to one of faint satisfaction. He reached across the small table and took her hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb. "I hope they were pleasant thoughts."

She felt heat on her cheeks and lowered her lashes coquettishly instead of answering outright. In truth, her mind had been anything but pleasant. But he didn't need to know that.

Lucien lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. The action was gentle, but Vivienne did not miss the inherent possessiveness in the way he held her gaze as he did it. It was a wordless claiming. You are under my protection, under my influence, that kiss said. It sent a slight tremor through her—whether of fear or something else, she could not tell.

"I have business in town today," Lucien said after a moment, releasing her hand and settling back. "I'll be leaving within the hour. I likely won't return until late this evening. Will you be alright passing the day here? I could arrange for a companion if you'd like, or a trip to the modiste—whatever you need to keep from boredom."

Vivienne's heart gave a leap of both relief and apprehension. Relief that he would be away, giving her freedom to maneuver. Apprehension that he was clearly thinking of how she'd occupy her time—perhaps a subtle hint that he didn't want her roaming unattended.

She shook her head lightly, taking a sip of her tea. "No need to fuss over me. I have a new novel to keep me company, and I might stroll the gardens if the weather permits. I'll manage well enough until you return."

Lucien smiled, though a calculating gleam lurked in his eyes. "Very well. If you do go out, take Bernard with you, won't you?" Bernard was one of his more imposing footmen, one who doubled as a guard when needed. The message was clear: even in his absence, Lucien intended her to be watched over.

"Of course," she lied smoothly. In reality, ditching Bernard would be her first order of business once Lucien left. She had urgent matters to address today—matters she couldn't possibly attend with a watchful shadow at her heel.

They finished breakfast with light conversation. Lucien mentioned a minor political squabble in the city council he had to smooth over, and she listened attentively, offering sympathetic nods at appropriate moments. All the while, her mind strategized her next steps.

By the time Lucien rose to depart, Vivienne had formulated a plan. She would feign a headache and retire to rest after he left, sending the servants and Bernard away. Then she would make her own excursion to town—alone. Julian needed to hear of the midnight threat immediately, if he wasn't already aware. And if he wasn't… that itself was worrying. It could mean the threat came from another quarter entirely, one even Julian did not control.

At the threshold of her room, Lucien paused and turned to her one last time. He placed a hand at her waist and bent to brush a kiss on her forehead—a gesture almost domestic in its familiarity, as though they were an old married couple with established routines. "Until tonight, Vivienne," he murmured. "If you need anything, have a message sent to me at the Union Club."

"I will," she replied, tilting her face up to give him a soft smile. The picture of a devoted companion seeing her man off to work—she played it to perfection, even stepping forward to straighten the lapel of his coat with a shy, caring motion.

Something flickered in Lucien's expression—surprise, perhaps even delight at her unsolicited tenderness. Impulsively, he captured her hand against his chest. His heartbeat thudded steady and strong under her palm. "You continue to amaze me," he said quietly.

A question hovered unspoken in the air between them—In what way? But Vivienne dared not ask. She merely squeezed his hand in return.

With a final searching look, Lucien released her and strode down the corridor, his boots striking a confident rhythm on the hardwood. Vivienne watched until he disappeared around a corner. Only when she heard the distant main doors open and close did she exhale and let her shoulders drop from their polite poise.

Time was of the essence.

**

Later that morning, Vivienne stepped out of a hired carriage onto a narrow, cobbled side street in the city's old quarter. She had deliberately avoided using Lucien's liveried coach, opting instead for anonymity. Under a modest navy-blue cloak and a veiled bonnet, she looked more like a gentlewoman on a casual errand than the elegant fixture of high society she often portrayed at Lucien's side. That was the point—to slip through the streets unnoticed.

She glanced over her shoulder, ensuring she hadn't been followed. Satisfied, Vivienne approached a small bakery with a weathered sign—an establishment long known not for its bread but for the discreet backdoor that led to a safe house used by Julian's network. The scent of yeast and sugar hung in the air as she ducked inside the dimly lit shop.

An elderly baker gave her a polite nod as she passed the counter, his eyes flicking once to her veil in silent recognition of her identity. No words were exchanged. She made her way to a door marked "Private" and let herself through.

In the narrow passage beyond, a figure awaited in the gloom. Julian stood against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, illuminated by a single beam of light from a high window. He had clearly been waiting for her, tension evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. At her entrance, he pushed off the wall. Concern etched his handsome features—lighter brown hair neatly combed, a contrast to Lucien's dark locks, and eyes a shade of warm hazel that now sharpened with worry.

"Vivienne," Julian said in a hushed voice. "Thank God. When I got your message to meet, I feared the worst."

Vivienne managed a tight smile as she threw back her veil. "I didn't mean to alarm you." She stepped closer, and Julian's hands immediately found her arms, steadying her as though to assure himself she was truly there and unharmed.

"What happened?" he asked, scanning her face. His gaze lingered on the faint shadows under her eyes and the stress he no doubt read in her posture. "Your note said it was urgent."

Vivienne nodded, deciding there was no use mincing words. "Someone approached me last night. At midnight I was summoned to a meeting—an anonymous contact. They claim to know… about me. My past. That I'm not who I pretend to be." Just saying it aloud made her stomach twist with anxiety.

Julian's expression darkened, jaw tightening. "That's impossible. Only a handful in our circle know your true origin, and all are sworn—"

"They showed me my family locket, Julian," she interrupted quietly, opening her palm to reveal the very item. She had brought it as incontrovertible proof. The gold crest glinted accusingly. "The one I thought lost years ago. They knew my family name. They said if I don't cooperate, they will expose everything—to Lucien, to everyone."

He muttered a curse under his breath, a rare loss of composure. His hold on her arms instinctively drew her closer, protectively. "Cooperate how? Did they say what they want?"

Vivienne shook her head. "Not specifics. Only that they would be in touch with instructions soon. For now they just wanted me aware that I'm… that I'm at their mercy." Her voice faltered on the last phrase; admitting her vulnerability made it painfully real.

For a beat, Julian was silent. His eyes searched hers, and she saw anger simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior—anger and something like guilt. "This shouldn't have happened," he said, voice low and fierce. "I never would have involved you in this mission if I thought you'd be in such danger. The whole point was for you to stay above suspicion, safe, until we had what we needed to take Lucien down."

Vivienne's heart clenched. Julian's concern was genuine, she knew. He had been the one to recruit her into this web of intrigue, yes, but also her friend and ally in a world that had been cruel to them both. "Julian," she murmured, softening her tone. She placed a hand on his chest, much as she had with Lucien earlier that morning—except with Julian, it was without pretense. "We knew the risks. I knew them."

His larger hand covered hers over his heart. "I promised I'd protect you," he said, the words almost a vow. "I gave you my word that the new life we crafted for you would hold until our goals were met. Whoever this snake is, I will find them and silence them before they ruin everything."

Vivienne believed him—Julian was nothing if not capable. Still, the determination in his voice did little to quell her dread. "Be careful," she urged. "If it's someone in your network, they're already betraying your cause. And if it's someone aligned with Lucien… he might already suspect something."

At that, Julian's expression shifted to one of hard calculation. "How is Lucien? Have you noticed any change in his behavior toward you? Any sign he's testing you?"

She hesitated, mind flitting back to the corridor, the concern in Lucien's eyes, the way he questioned her more pointedly about her well-being. "He… was more attentive last night, but not accusatory. Perhaps just worried I was ill or unhappy." She frowned slightly. "It's possible I'm just jumpy and reading too much into it. But I can't be sure."

Julian's hand slid from her arms down to grasp her hands. The action brought them even closer in the narrow passage, and Vivienne realized with a nervous flutter that the rise and fall of her chest brushed lightly against his. "Listen to me," he said earnestly. "If Lucien discovers the truth, you must get out. Immediately. Do you understand? Our operation, any revenge—none of it is worth your life."

The intensity of his words caught her off guard. She had never seen Julian so openly fearful for her. It touched something deep in her, cracking the composure she'd fought to maintain. "I understand," she whispered, her throat tight. "But I haven't come this far to just run without accomplishing what we set out to do. I won't let my family's fate go unanswered."

Hearing the tremor in her voice, Julian gentled. One of his hands released hers and moved up to cup her cheek, much as Lucien had the night before. The parallel was not lost on her, but whereas Lucien's touch had felt like a seductive question mark, Julian's felt like a steadying anchor. "You carry too much on your shoulders," he murmured. "You always have."

Vivienne closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into Julian's palm. In this hidden corner behind a bakery, away from prying eyes, she could allow herself a rare moment of unguarded truth. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm strong enough for this," she admitted softly.

"You are," Julian assured instantly. "You're the bravest, cleverest woman I know. You've been flawless so far. This is just… an unforeseen obstacle. We'll handle it." His other hand drifted up, almost of its own accord, to brush a tear that had escaped down her cheek. She hadn't even realized a tear had formed, but the stress of the last hours must have cracked her veneer.

His tenderness in wiping it away sent a wave of warmth and ache through her. Vivienne opened her eyes, finding his face much closer than before. His gaze locked with hers, intense and burning with emotion she had only glimpsed once or twice in all the time she'd known him.

"Julian—" she began, but she didn't know what she intended to say. To thank him? To voice her own fears? The words tangled.

He silenced them by leaning in and pressing his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle at first, a question and a comfort all at once. Julian's mouth was warm, the contact sending a shock of sensation coursing from Vivienne's lips to her very core. For a heartbeat, she froze—this was Julian, her friend, her co-conspirator, the man who had given her a second chance at her goals. They had shared much in secret, but never this.

But the sweetness of it, the earnest emotion behind his trembling exhale against her cheek, unraveled any protest she might have mustered. Vivienne found herself melting into the kiss, her hands lifting of their own volition to grasp the lapels of Julian's coat. She clung to him, answering the quiet desperation of his kiss with the pent-up longing and fear she, too, harbored.

That tentative brush of lips ignited. Julian let out a low groan and deepened the kiss, gathering her fully into his arms. Vivienne felt the solid wall of his chest against her silk bodice, his heart thundering nearly as hard as her own. His arms wrapped around her back, one hand entangled in her hair, pinning her securely to him as though he might shield her from the world itself.

Sensations swirled—his familiar scent of bergamot and ink enveloped her, his breath mingling with hers. Vivienne returned his fervor, matching each stroke of his lips, each tilt of his head, as a heat that had little to do with danger blossomed within her.

For a few stolen moments, the outside world and all its threats fell away. There was only the closeness of two souls entwined in shared struggle and unacknowledged yearning, finding solace in the most human connection. Vivienne felt tears prick behind her closed eyes again, this time not of sorrow or fear, but of an overwhelming mix of relief and heartbreak. Relief at not being alone in this nightmare; heartbreak that fate was so cruel to entangle her heart with two men on opposite sides of a coming storm.

It was Julian who finally drew back, though not far. He kept her in his embrace, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their ragged breath. "Forgive me," he whispered, voice hoarse. "I… had no right. It's just—seeing you in danger—I can't bear it."

Vivienne opened her eyes to find his own dark with concern and an affection that ran deeper than she had let herself acknowledge until now. She managed a faint, wry smile even as her heart pounded. "You chose a fine moment to confess, you fool," she whispered, a tearful laugh coloring her tone.

A soft huff of breath escaped him that might have been a laugh. He brushed his thumb over her swollen lower lip gently. "I had not intended on that. But I meant what I said. I won't let anyone harm you. Not Lucien, not a traitor in our midst, no one."

His fervor touched her, and yet at the mention of Lucien's name, reality reared its head. Lucien—her current protector, her target, and frustratingly, a man who also had managed to claim a corner of her heart despite all her attempts to remain detached. She disentangled herself slowly from Julian's arms, regretfully stepping back enough to clear her mind.

"We should be careful," she said quietly. "Emotions are running high. But we can't… we mustn't complicate this more than it already is." Even as she said it, her lips still tingled from his kiss, and she couldn't quite meet his eyes for fear of the longing she might see mirrored there.

Julian's jaw tightened but he nodded. Ever pragmatic, he reined himself in, though his eyes remained warm with feeling. "You're right. For now, we proceed as planned. I'll discreetly investigate our ranks to ferret out who had access to that locket. In the meantime, you carry on with Lucien as if nothing's amiss."

Vivienne swallowed, nodding. Carry on. That meant smiling at Lucien, enduring his touches and perhaps sharing his bed, all while remembering this kiss and the man who gave it. It felt like an impossible balancing act. But what choice did she have? The stakes were higher than ever—not just her mission, but hearts and lives in the balance.

Julian gently adjusted her veil over her face again, his fingers lingering an extra second at her cheek. "I'll contact you as soon as I have news. We'll likely need to accelerate our timeline. If there's a leak, we need to secure the evidence against Lucien before it gets out or before he changes course."

"Understood," she replied. "Be careful, Julian. If someone is playing both sides… trust no one."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Present company excluded?"

She managed a small smirk. "I suppose we're stuck with each other's secrets."

He nodded, then his expression turned serious once more. "Take care of yourself. I mean it—don't take unnecessary risks. If anything feels off, leave immediately and signal me."

Vivienne promised she would, then turned to go. Before she could take more than a step, Julian caught her hand one last time and pressed a swift kiss to her knuckles—an almost courtly gesture, yet the tenderness in it made her chest ache.

"Until next time," he said softly, letting her go.

She left the way she had come, slipping back into the bakery and then out onto the street. The clouds overhead threatened more rain, and a chill wind stirred her skirts. Vivienne drew her cloak tight and walked briskly toward where her carriage waited.

Her mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions and dire calculations. The feel of Julian's lips still lingered, and with it the guilt that she felt anything at all beyond duty. But her heart would not obey orders to remain untouched. Try as she might to harden herself, she was flesh and blood, longing and fear, hope and regret.

As the carriage rattled out of the old quarter, Vivienne forced her thoughts to the tasks ahead. There was no room for distraction now. Julian would hunt for the blackmailer within, and she… she would return to Lucien's side, playing the devoted confidante, and pray her mask did not slip.

By the time Lucien returned home tonight, she vowed to be the very picture of composed innocence. He would not see the truth of how her heart and mind warred within her. She would bury the morning's kiss deep in her soul, letting only the memory of its comfort strengthen her resolve, not weaken it.

And if the mysterious blackmailer reached out again with demands, she would be ready. Whichever way the next move came—from her enemies or her allies—Vivienne would walk the razor's edge between them. One misstep could destroy her, but stepping aside was not an option.

Not until she had secured both her survival and the justice she sought.