CHAPTER 38

By midday, the company returned to Belfoire Manor with Nathaniel as their prisoner. Word spread swiftly among the staff: the Duke had vanquished his treacherous cousin. The stench of tension that once plagued the halls lifted—yet a new hush of morbid curiosity replaced it. Everyone wanted to see the man who dared defy Lucien Hawke, but none dared do so openly.

Lucien had Nathaniel placed under armed guard in a locked storeroom until official escorts from the War Office arrived. Julian penned urgent dispatches, ensuring the Crown's representatives would come swiftly. Vivienne lingered in the background, watching as the final pieces of this conspiracy were slotted into place. Evidence gleaned from Nathaniel's cottage—letters, logs, finances—sealed his fate.

That evening, a subdued dinner was served, just Lucien, Julian, and Vivienne again. Tension still thrummed, but the knowledge that the crisis was nearly over allowed a brittle sense of relief. Over roast duck and spring vegetables, they spoke quietly of logistics—when the War Office men would arrive, how the estate might quell any rumor of scandal.

At last, when plates were cleared, Lucien drummed his fingers on the table. "Once Nathaniel is handed over, that concludes the immediate threat." He turned a level look on Julian. "What of your official duties then? Will you depart?"

Julian inclined his head. "Likely so. My superiors will want a full report. And…" He hesitated, glancing at Vivienne. "My mission—our mission—would be complete."

Vivienne lowered her gaze, heart twisting. Does that mean he leaves for good? she wondered, uncertain if she had the right to hold him back.

Lucien seemed to read her expression. A flash of pain crossed his eyes, but he directed his words to Julian. "And you, Vivienne? Will you remain under my roof or also depart once your original purpose is resolved?"

She swallowed, casting an uneasy glance at both men. "I…haven't decided. My infiltration was for justice, to unmask the arms conspiracy that framed my family and tarnished your name. Now that the truth is out, I—I'm free to go, in theory. But…" She trailed off, tears pricking her lids.

Julian's hand twitched as if to comfort her, but he held back. Lucien's jaw tightened. "But?"

Vivienne mustered courage to speak frankly. "But my heart is torn between what we once shared, Lucien, and the bond I've formed with Julian. I can't deny I care for you both deeply, though differently. Perhaps it's selfish to say so, but…that's my truth. And I don't know what future that leaves me."

A fraught silence followed, thick with unsaid feelings. At length, Lucien exhaled, standing from the table. "We cannot solve this tonight," he said quietly, controlling his trembling voice. "Nathaniel's handover is tomorrow or the next day. After that, we can decide…everything else."

Julian rose as well. "Agreed. One step at a time." Yet the longing in his eyes as he glanced at Vivienne was unmistakable.

Vivienne stood last, tears threatening. The fragile truce saved them from disaster, but it did nothing to quell the emotional storm swirling among them.

They parted, each retreating to solitude. Vivienne found her way to the manor's small chapel, a quiet place with stained-glass windows lit by moonlight. She knelt at a pew, not praying exactly, but searching her soul for answers.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Lucien? She turned to see Julian, face etched with sorrow. He approached gently, lowering himself on the pew beside her. "I was looking for you," he murmured. "Are you all right?"

She closed her eyes, letting tears slip down her cheeks. "I don't know," she whispered. "Everything's resolved, yet my heart's more confused than ever."

Julian hesitated, then carefully placed a hand over hers. "We'll face it together, somehow."

A rustle by the chapel entrance made them start. Lucien stood there, candle in hand. At the sight of them, he froze. Pain flashed in his eyes. For a heartbeat, Vivienne's stomach twisted, expecting him to lash out. But slowly, he closed the door and stepped inside.

In the hush of the chapel, the three once again found themselves in an unplanned meeting. Lucien's gaze swept over Vivienne and Julian's linked hands, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he set the candle on a stand and approached.

"I couldn't sleep," Lucien said hoarsely. "My cousin—my family—my name…all in shambles. I thought to find solace here."

Vivienne's tears overflowed. She rose, bridging the distance between them. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "For all of it. Your heartbreak from both Nathaniel and me. If I could mend it, I would."

Julian moved behind her, silent support. Lucien's breath caught as his gaze flicked to them both. Slowly, with visible effort, he let out a breath. "If you truly regret it, show me by helping rebuild what remains. I cannot promise forgiveness or trust…nor can I deny my lingering affection. It's tangled, to put it mildly."

Vivienne nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I'll do whatever I can. Even if it means stepping away if that's best for you."

Lucien's eyes flickered. "And if stepping away leaves me emptier than before?" His voice cracked on the question. Julian inhaled sharply, torn by empathy for them both.

For a moment, they stood in a fraught triangle of unspoken longing. The chapel's candles cast shifting patterns on the walls, like echoes of the turmoil within their hearts.

At last, Lucien's composure slipped. He reached for Vivienne, pulling her into a trembling embrace. She clung to him, sobbing softly. Over Lucien's shoulder, she met Julian's anguished gaze. He stepped closer, resting a hand on Lucien's arm in a rare gesture of unity. Lucien tensed but didn't pull away—somehow acknowledging that Julian, too, was part of this bond.

Nothing was decided in that moment, no tidy resolution. Yet the shared grief, the acceptance that each had bled in this battle, formed a fragile spark of compassion among them. They stood there, the three of them in a silent embrace of heartbreak and solace, as though they might hold each other upright against the world.

When they finally parted, no words sufficed for the swirl of conflicting love, anger, guilt, and hope. But the chapel's hush bore witness to a fleeting sense that maybe, just maybe, they could all find a path out of the darkness if they faced it together.