CHAPTER 45

Meanwhile, in the capital, Julian paced the length of his rented townhouse. He held Vivienne's letter in one hand, an official War Office document in the other. The War Office offered him a new mission—overseeing border tensions in the east. The assignment was urgent, high-stakes, likely to occupy him for months. A swift acceptance from him would bolster his career.

But the letter from Vivienne weighed heavier, lines replaying in his mind: "I think of you often… My heart remains torn." He pictured her at Belfoire, striving to rebuild the estate's future, possibly slipping back into a gentle routine with Lucien. The conflict tore at him.

One evening, after a tense meeting with War Office superiors, Julian found himself drafting a reply:

Vivienne,Thank you for your kind words. I, too, am lost in uncertain times. The War Office beckons me east. Yet I hesitate—my heart yearns for a life beyond constant missions.If you ever wish to come to the capital, you'll find me at Fairfax House near the palace. I cannot promise indefinite presence, but I'll delay this new posting as long as I can.I remain devoted, in whatever future may unfold.Julian

Sealing it, he dispatched a swift courier. Then he breathed out a prayer that fate might allow them a second chance—assuming Lucien's hold on Vivienne was not too strong, or that she truly desired a path with Julian.

Days dragged. He awaited any sign from her, each new sunrise pushing him closer to the War Office's demands. Harring teased him about stalling, but Julian refused to commit to leaving until he heard from Vivienne. The War Office grew impatient, yet he insisted on a short leave, citing personal matters.

As the capital's bustle continued, Julian wandered the opulent corridors, recalling the hush of Belfoire's library, the hush of Vivienne's gentle voice. At times, he nearly mounted a horse to ride back. But that might intrude on her new chapter with Lucien. Or might it be the grand gesture that tilts her choice?

Uncertainty gripped him. Each day without a letter answering his last fueled his anxiety. Could it be that she'd decided to remain at Lucien's side, ignoring Julian's invitation?

Tormented by these thoughts, Julian took to frequent sparring sessions at the royal fencing hall, channeling frustration into each clash of steel. On the seventh day after sending his letter, a messenger arrived with a reply from Belfoire.

He tore it open with trembling fingers:

Julian,Your missive warms my heart and deepens my inner war. Lucien and I are forging a semblance of partnership—practical, perhaps, but I see glimmers of the affection we once shared. Yet I cannot banish thoughts of you.A grand ball is planned at Belfoire next month, to mark the estate's revival. Lucien wishes me to co-host. If you can, please come. I long to see if there's a place for you, for us, in this new era.With all my conflicted soul,Vivienne

His pulse pounded. She invited me back. The War Office demanded a decision soon. If he left for the eastern border, he might never see her again on these terms. But if he defied them— could love be enough reason to risk his career?

Julian read the letter thrice, each time feeling fresh hope stir. A grand ball. A chance to stand in the same hall as Vivienne and Lucien, forging some new resolution. Anxiety warred with excitement. He stared at the War Office assignment letter pinned on his desk.

Choice loomed: duty or heart, career or love. He closed his eyes, recalling Vivienne's tearful farewell at the chapel. The mission was done. Perhaps it was time to fight for something beyond the Crown's shadows. With a firm breath, he penned a note to the War Office:

To my superiors: I respectfully request an extension of my leave, citing urgent personal affairs. I cannot accept the eastern posting at this time…

A wave of apprehension mingled with relief as he sent the letter off. He would face the consequences. For now, the prospect of rejoining Vivienne—seeing if they could carve a future despite Lucien's presence—outweighed all else. He gazed at her letter once more, a shaky smile forming. Perhaps the final confrontation of hearts would unfold at Belfoire's grand ball, a swirl of music, candlelight, and destiny.