CHAPTER 52

Several days passed in a strange, delicate dance. Julian officially extended his stay at Belfoire, citing ongoing "matters" with Lucien. Servants saw nothing odd in his presence—he was a known ally, after all. Vivienne maintained her usual hostess duties, side by side with Lucien in public, while discreetly sharing quiet moments with Julian. Each night brought its own tension—where would she sleep? With whom?

Initially, Lucien tried to insist she remain in her usual chamber, separate from them both, to keep appearances normal. Yet the new pact yearned for deeper closeness. The first time Vivienne slipped into Lucien's chambers at midnight, they found comfort in an intimate embrace, though the shadow of Julian's absence lingered. Another night, she joined Julian in the manor's small sitting room, the hush of candlelight framing a delicate exploration of affection that didn't cross the threshold into scandal yet stoked a yearning for more.

In the daylight, they avoided blatant displays. Rumors about the double waltz persisted in the county, some guests gawking at the notion of one woman dancing with two men in turn. But no one guessed the true extent of their arrangement. And so the triad wove a precarious tapestry of stolen kisses, guarded confessions, and the promise of something deeper—if jealousy didn't rend it apart.

One late afternoon, Vivienne strolled the orchard with Julian, grateful for the orchard's seclusion from prying eyes. A mild breeze rustled the apple blossoms overhead. She clasped his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for staying," she murmured. "I know you have obligations."

He stroked her hand gently. "I do, but for once, I'm placing my heart above duty." A sad flicker crossed his features. "For how long, though, can I refuse new missions? The War Office grows impatient."

Vivienne tensed. "I feared as much. Are they pressing you to depart?"

He nodded. "I can only stall so long. They threatened I'd lose my rank if I delay indefinitely."

Her heart wrenched. "What will you do?"

He halted under a blooming branch, turning to face her. "I'm torn. Part of me craves a normal life. If such a life is even possible in our…triad. Another part feels an oath to serve the Crown." He brushed a stray curl from her face. "Would you want me here if it meant severing ties to my old role?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I—I want you to follow your convictions. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want you near."

He sighed, pressing his forehead to hers briefly. "Then let's see if Lucien and I can manage an arrangement that allows me short missions, returning frequently." A bittersweet chuckle. "Assuming he can handle my comings and goings without it triggering envy."

Vivienne let out a trembling laugh. "We'll try. Communication is key."

They continued walking, tension thrumming. Unanswered questions loomed—how to sustain a relationship with a man whose profession demanded secrecy and travel, while also balancing Lucien's daily presence as Duke. For now, they clasped each other's hands, soaking in stolen peace under orchard blossoms, aware that every step forward was riddled with potential heartbreak.

Meanwhile, inside the manor, Lucien stood at a window overlooking the orchard. From a distance, he saw Vivienne and Julian strolling, heads close in soft conversation. A pang of jealousy stabbed him. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly to quell it. We agreed to share, he reminded himself. Better this than losing her. Yet the sight hurt.

He pressed a palm to the glass. Could he truly endure seeing her in another man's arms regularly? The triad arrangement was new, untested. He vowed to steel himself—love meant compromise. He recalled how fierce her devotion could be, how genuine her confessions of caring for them both were. If that love was honest, perhaps he could find contentment in sharing her heart.

Still, the jealousy coiled, demanding more assurance. He let the curtain drop, heading to the study to bury himself in estate finances. Perhaps focusing on practical matters would keep the gnawing doubts at bay—at least until he found the courage to speak them aloud.