CHAPTER 41

A crisp dawn light settled over Belfoire Manor as Vivienne roused herself from an uneasy sleep. Only a day had passed since Julian's departure for the capital, but the house felt immeasurably emptier. She gazed out her bedchamber window, recalling the moment on the rose terrace when the three of them—she, Lucien, and Julian—had stood at a crossroads of hearts. Now, one path was chosen: Julian was gone, and she remained.

The hush in the corridors seemed almost reverent, as if the manor itself was bracing for a new chapter. Servants carried on their chores, discreetly glancing at Vivienne whenever she passed, uncertain how to treat the woman who had once been their master's beloved companion—and secretly, a saboteur-turned-savior.

When Vivienne arrived at breakfast in the sunlit morning room, Lucien was already seated, staring at a half-eaten plate of eggs. He glanced up, offering a polite nod. A whisper of tension lingered between them—a residue of heartbreak and unspoken possibilities.

"Good morning," he said, voice low. "I trust you slept well?"

She forced a small smile. "As well as I could." Settling opposite him, she poured tea. "Have you heard from the War Office yet? About Nathaniel's trial?"

Lucien shook his head. "No news. Likely they'll keep him under lock and key until formal proceedings begin. For all his threats, he's powerless now." His gaze flicked aside, betraying a flare of bitterness. "Powerless but still my blood."

A silence fell, weighted by a sorrowful acknowledgment that family ties had become irrevocably stained. Vivienne mustered the courage to speak. "And…how are you?"

He drew a measured breath. "Trying to move forward. My steward's demanded my presence at the local magistrate's banquet tonight. A show of good faith to the region—demonstrating I'm above suspicion."

Vivienne nodded. "That might be wise. And…would you like me to accompany you?" The question came out hesitant, uncertain if she still held a place at his side in public.

Lucien's mouth twitched, a flicker of complicated emotion. "I…yes. Yes, I would. People remain curious about us—some assume you've left with Julian, or that you were an agent all along. Best we dispel rumors."

She dipped her head, heart constricting at the mention of Julian. "Then I'll attend, of course."

A fragile smile lifted Lucien's lips. For a fleeting moment, a ghost of the old warmth glimmered. "Thank you."

They returned to eating in subdued quiet, both aware that tonight's banquet would be their first public appearance since the conspiracy's end. Whispers would swirl, testing whether their bond could stand the scrutiny. Neither spoke it aloud, but each recognized the uncharted territory they now traversed—no longer shielded by illusions, but lacking the clarity of a defined future.

Outside, the day wore on, bringing small tasks and estate business. Vivienne meticulously chose a gown of deep sapphire for the evening, recalling that Lucien once praised such a color against her skin. A gesture toward forging a new beginning, perhaps. Meanwhile, Lucien buried himself in estate ledgers, occasionally glancing at the door as though expecting an interruption that never came.

By dusk, as they prepared to depart for the magistrate's manor, Vivienne felt the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She steadied herself: tonight was about unity, about showing the county that Belfoire stood firm—and maybe about discovering if she and Lucien could reclaim any piece of what they once shared.