CHAPTER 30

A leaden hush hung over Belfoire Manor at daybreak, as though the entire household collectively held its breath. Vivienne stood at the second-floor gallery rail, peering down into the foyer. Pale sunlight filtered through the tall windows, illuminating dust motes swirling in the still air.

Lucien was below, directing servants in low, clipped tones. She couldn't hear his exact words, but his authoritative stance signaled that something urgent was afoot. He had wasted no time after last night's chaos—he was mobilizing resources, perhaps investigating Bernard's treachery or anticipating new threats. She could sense the tension in his shoulders, the unspoken rage and betrayal roiling beneath his calm facade.

Julian emerged from the study, dressed in a spare set of clothes borrowed from Lucien's wardrobe. The borrowed garments didn't entirely fit, but he wore them with a soldier's grace. He spotted Vivienne on the gallery and offered a brief, somber nod, as if to ask: Are you all right?

Vivienne returned the gesture faintly. Her mind was anything but settled. She had barely slept after last night's revelations. All lies laid bare, she thought miserably.

Moments later, Lucien dismissed the servants and turned on his heel, heading for the grand staircase. His gaze rose to find Vivienne waiting. His eyes flicked from her to Julian at a distance—both under his roof by an uneasy ceasefire. Unreadable emotion flickered across his face.

Summoning resolve, Vivienne descended the stairs, meeting Lucien partway. Julian followed, stopping a respectful couple of steps behind.

Lucien's jaw tightened. "We've much to discuss," he said quietly. "My steward has reported the preliminary findings of Bernard's…personal effects. And I've sent word to the local magistrate about the incident, though I withheld details for now."

Vivienne nodded, her heart thumping. She risked a glance at Julian, who stepped forward. "We're ready to listen, Your Grace. And to speak candidly, if you'll permit it."

"Candidly," Lucien echoed, with a bitter twist to his lips. "Yes. Let us set aside the polite masks, now that the truth is out." He gestured them toward the privacy of his study.

Once inside the familiar chamber, Lucien closed the door. The drapes were partly drawn, lending the room a subdued glow. Vivienne noted that the portrait of Lucien's forebears loomed overhead—judgmental watchers in gilded frames.

She, Julian, and Lucien stood around the large mahogany desk, tension coiled in the silence. Finally, Lucien reached for a folded paper on the desk. "My men found this letter in Bernard's trunk. It implicates him in selling stolen information about me—but it also references a…a larger network. One that may have ties to real treason." His eyes flicked to Vivienne. "It seems we share a common enemy, after all."

Julian's brow creased. "So Bernard was part of a ring, possibly feeding false leads about you to us. That's how we were deceived into targeting you for arms dealing, even though you yourself might not have been the real culprit."

Vivienne pressed a hand to her temple. "Then the question remains: who set this up? We initially believed you were behind certain war-profiteering deals, Lucien, but if you're innocent, then someone else orchestrated events to pit us against each other."

Lucien's gaze hardened. "Exactly. Bernard was a pawn in that scheme—he tried to exploit you for ransom or blackmail once he realized your identity. But the more dangerous orchestrator is still at large."

An uneasy hush followed. Through the window, a lone sparrow chirped on the sill, oblivious to the intrigue inside.

Julian exhaled. "Let's align our goals. We all want the true conspirators exposed. We want justice for Vivienne's family, and an end to whoever's tarnishing your name, Your Grace." He paused, meeting Lucien's guarded stare. "We can accomplish that if we combine resources. You have influence, I have official channels. Vivienne…she has access to circles neither of us do."

Vivienne's chest tightened at the subtle mention of her double connections. "But there's still the matter of trust," she whispered. "After all that's happened, how can we work together without suspicion?"

Lucien's lips pressed into a thin line. "Let me be clear: I do not trust you both unconditionally. But I also see no benefit in continuing to treat you as enemies when a bigger threat looms. Last night proved that bigger forces are in play. I'd prefer to direct my wrath where it belongs."

His words, harsh but pragmatic, gave Vivienne a fragile spark of hope. She dared a tentative step closer. "Then we have a truce," she said softly, searching his eyes. "At least until the real villains are unmasked."

Lucien held her gaze for a moment that felt like an eternity. She saw sorrow, anger, and a flicker of unresolved feeling. Slowly, he dipped his head in assent. "A truce."

Julian quietly released a breath he'd been holding. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Lucien set the letter aside and straightened his shoulders. "We begin by following Bernard's leads. My steward found references to a 'Lord Garrington' as a potential buyer of my secrets. I know Garrington—a petty lord with large gambling debts. He might be a minor player or a front for someone bigger." He pinned Julian with a direct look. "Do your official contacts have anything on Garrington or associates?"

Julian considered. "I'll check. Let me send a discreet inquiry to the War Office. We must do so carefully to avoid tipping them off."

Lucien inclined his head. "Agreed. Meanwhile, I'll pressure Garrington socially, see if he panics or reveals anything." His gaze slid to Vivienne, uneasy. "You…will remain here. Safe. The press of London is no place for you right now."

Vivienne tensed. "I'm not your prisoner." The words escaped before she could temper them.

Lucien's eyes flashed. "No. But you are the woman who nearly orchestrated my downfall. Pardon me if I'm not eager to set you loose in the city with God knows who watching." He glanced away, adding in a quieter tone, "And I would not see you harmed by lingering enemies."

Something in Vivienne's heart softened at that last admission. "Very well," she conceded. "I'll stay—for now. But I won't be idle. Bernard's personal effects might yield more clues. Allow me to sift through them, talk to staff who knew him."

A flicker of approval crossed Lucien's face. "So be it. We'll reconvene tonight and share whatever we find." He glanced between her and Julian. "Now, if there's nothing else… I have tasks to oversee."

Julian nodded. "I'll begin my inquiry at once."

Vivienne mustered a faint nod too. "I'll start with Bernard's trunk."

Lucien turned away, picking up the letter again, as if to bury himself in tasks rather than further personal discussion. A silent dismissal. Julian caught Vivienne's eye, offering a small supportive smile, then slipped from the room.

Vivienne lingered for a moment, looking at Lucien's tense shoulders. She longed to say something—I'm sorry, I never intended to hurt you, I do care. But the words would ring hollow now. Instead, she quietly left the study, closing the door behind her.

Alone, Lucien set down the letter and closed his eyes, exhaling a ragged breath. A truce. He repeated it in his mind, trying to quell the roil of emotions. He had lost the woman he thought he knew, yet she was still here, and somewhere in his wounded heart, he wanted that.

Yes, he told himself resolutely, we'll see this through. And then we'll see if any pieces of us remain to rebuild.