CHAPTER 51

A subdued dawn filtered through Belfoire's stained-glass windows on the morning after Vivienne, Lucien, and Julian made their clandestine pact. The mansion's halls were nearly silent, servants exhausted from the ball's aftermath. In her private sitting room, Vivienne paced, chest still tight with the memory of last night's dance—and the reckless pledge she'd sealed among the rose bushes.

Lucien and Julian each had resumed separate routines by breakfast. None of them had spoken openly of the arrangement—a tentative promise to attempt a discreet triad. They'd only exchanged fraught glances. Vivienne sensed they all wondered if the evening's fervor had been a dream, if cooler morning minds might recoil.

She forced a deep breath. No running away. She rang for tea, then steeled herself to find Lucien. If they were to proceed, honest communication was imperative—even if it felt terrifying.

Her heart pounded as she approached the manor's library, where a footman said Lucien was conferring with his steward. Through the half-open door, she overheard them discussing finances for an upcoming carriage purchase. Vivienne lingered until the steward departed, then slipped inside.

Lucien glanced up, tension flickering in his grey eyes. "Vivienne." He set aside some ledgers. "Is everything all right?"

She swallowed hard. "I'd like to talk…about last night's conversation. Our…arrangement."

His jaw tightened slightly. He dismissed a curious footman with a nod, then gestured for Vivienne to join him by the tall windows. Morning light cast faint rainbow reflections on the floor. "Go on," he said gently, though wariness etched his expression.

Vivienne's pulse fluttered. "You and Julian both agreed to…something unconventional. I need to know if you regret that now. If your mind has changed in the cold light of day."

Lucien exhaled slowly, gaze dropping to his hands. "A part of me does balk at it. Society's condemnation, my own jealousy—it's no small risk. But…" He paused, lifting his eyes to hers. "I can't deny I'd rather share you—your presence—than lose you altogether. And we did vow no more illusions."

Tears pricked her eyes. "I feel the same. But I don't want to cause you pain."

He offered a sad, crooked smile. "The pain would be worse if you left. For good." Then, more quietly, "Have you spoken to Julian?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet. I wanted your honest stance first." A sense of relief mingled with apprehension. "So we proceed? We attempt this hush-hush triad?"

Lucien rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes. We proceed. Cautiously. My reputation can handle some rumors, but if the truth of a…threefold bond emerges, the scandal could overshadow us all. We must be discreet."

Vivienne nodded, heart thrumming. "I understand."

A charged silence followed. He stepped closer, tentatively lifting her chin. "We stand at the edge of a precipice," he murmured. "But for once, I'm willing to leap if you are." Then, with unspoken longing, he leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to her forehead.

She closed her eyes, tears slipping. It was a fragile promise—no illusions, no guaranteed happiness, but a chance to reclaim intimacy in a new shape. "Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling.

They parted just as a light rap sounded at the door. Julian peered in, uncertain. His gaze flicked between them. "Am I interrupting?"

Lucien cleared his throat, stepping back. "Join us," he said simply, though his posture remained tense.

Julian entered, crossing the library with measured steps. Vivienne steadied herself, recalling last night's vow under the roses. The tension thickened. Each man regarded the other warily—rivals in love, now forging an alliance beyond conventional comprehension.

She summoned courage. "Lucien and I were discussing…the next step. If we're doing this—all of us—how do we proceed without stoking scandal?"

Julian exhaled. "Discretion is paramount. We appear in public as we have, with you two as the official couple. I remain a…trusted friend or advisor. But in private…" He trailed off, letting them fill in the blanks.

Lucien crossed his arms, brow furrowing. "In private, we'd share—" He paused, swallowing. "We'd share time. But let's be frank: jealousy may arise. We must communicate, lay boundaries. This is new territory for me."

Vivienne's cheeks warmed. "For all of us. But if we trust each other—if we remain open—perhaps we can navigate it." She glanced from Lucien to Julian, relieved they each wore guarded acceptance rather than hostility.

Julian gave a tight nod. "I'm willing to try. It's unorthodox, but so is the bond that formed through our trials." A faint wry smile touched his lips. "We overcame conspiracies…maybe we can overcome our own hearts' war."

A strangled laugh escaped Lucien—part amusement, part apprehension. "Then so be it. A triad. Quietly." He raked a hand through his hair. "God help us."

Vivienne felt tears again. She reached out, placing a hand on each man's shoulder. "We'll figure it out…together."

Their small circle breathed relief, though tension still bristled with unspoken questions: Would closeness spark jealousy? Could they maintain unity amid society's watchful gaze? The foundation was laid, fragile as spun glass, but they each clung to the hope that love, tested by adversity, might survive the boldest arrangement of all.