The Mad Duke's Naughty Maid Chapter 4: On Board

It was hours after Mireille and Étienne had left the bar.

The place was almost empty now. The noisy crowd was gone. The music had stopped. The chairs were stacked. The floor was sticky with spilled wine and muddy shoes, but the room felt too quiet, like a church after a storm. Morning light was crawling in through the cracks in the wooden windows, soft and pale.

Vivienne sat alone at a table near the back. Her elbows were on the wooden surface, and her fingers played slowly with a half-empty glass of brandy she had stopped drinking a long ti ago. She had barely moved in hours, except to finish whatever was left in her cup.

She wasn’t tired. At least her body wasn’t. But her mind? Her mind was spinning in circles.

One of the barmaids walked past, sweeping the floor in lazy strokes. She glanced at Vivienne, then looked again. She had dark eyes and a braid hanging over her shoulder.

"Mada Moreau," the girl said gently, stopping near her. "I’m done for now."

Vivienne nodded without looking up. "See you at night."

The girl didn’t move. She just stood there for a mont, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Vivienne noticed and lifted her head, her voice a little sharper. "What is it?"

The girl hesitated. Then, in a soft voice, she said, "Get so rest, Mada."

Then she gave a small nod and walked off, the soft sound of her shoes fading into the back rooms.

Vivienne looked back at her glass. She didn’t touch it.

The truth was, the girl was right. She needed rest. Her eyes burned and her back ached from sitting too long, but she couldn’t sleep. Her mind wouldn’t let her.

Instead, it dragged her backward, far back, to a dusty afternoon in the market when she was just a girl. She saw herself again, barefoot and dirty, running through narrow streets of Rue des Orangers with a stolen apple in her hand. She had just snatched it off a cart and thought she could get away with it. But soone grabbed her by the collar. She had been screaming and kicking, thinking she’d be beaten.

And then—like magic—soone had stepped in.

She rembered Mireille, younger then, prettier maybe. Dressed in fine clothes, lips painted red. She had pushed the man away, then cupped Vivienne’s face in her hands. Her touch had been cold, firm. Her voice calm.

"Don’t worry," she had said. "I’ve got you. Everything will be alright."

Vivienne blinked back to the present and let out a dry, bitter laugh. It ca from deep in her chest. Her voice cracked as she muttered to no one, "Bloody liar."

She picked up her glass of whiskey. She didn’t cry. She never cried. But her heart felt heavier than it had in years.

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Two days later – Noon

Inside a quiet room upstairs at L’Auberge de Minuit, Mireille sat on a velvet chaise with one leg crossed over the other. She looked calm, as always, dressed in a pale green gown that hugged her figure perfectly. Her gloves were off, and she was rolling them in her lap slowly, almost absently.

Étienne stood nearby, leaning against the window fra with his arms folded. He looked bored, eyes drifting toward the street now and then. The room slled faintly of lilac perfu and wine.

Also in the room was Delphine—a brunette with brown eyes and soft features. She was pretty in a gentle, quiet way, but next to Vivienne, she had always seed like background noise. Still, her face was tense now, lips pressed into a hard line as she paced across the carpet.

"It’s been two days, Mada Mireille," Delphine said, her voice sharp with frustration. "I told you she’s not going to co."

Mireille didn’t reply. She just looked at her gloves.

Delphine threw her hands up. "I still don’t understand what you see in that bitch. Did you forget what she did to us? How she scamd us last ti?"

She laughed bitterly and turned toward Étienne, but he said nothing.

"We don’t need her," Delphine added. "I can handle the job myself."

Mireille finally looked up. Her voice was calm, like always. "Be patient, Delphine. She’ll co. There’s still ti."

Delphine spun toward her. "Seriously, Mada?" Her eyes were wide now. "That girl is a fox. A damn fox. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself."

Before Mireille could respond, the door opened.

All three heads turned at once.

And there she was.

Vivienne walked into the room like she owned the place. Like she hadn’t made them wait. Like the world itself should be glad she had arrived. She was dressed in a long black coat, hair tied up lazily, dark red lipstick smudged slightly at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled, not with warmth, but with that sharp, dangerous shine she always had when she was in control.

She looked around once, taking in Étienne, then Mireille, and finally, Delphine.

A small, mocking smile touched her lips.

"Well, if it isn’t Delphine Dumans," she said lightly. "It’s been a while."

Delphine stiffened.

Vivienne tilted her head and added, "I see you’re still the sa boring thing. Still insecure about ."

She shrugged. "I don’t bla you though."

Delphine’s hand clenched at her side. For a second, it looked like she might throw sothing. Her lips trembled, and her cheeks flushed with anger, but she didn’t say anything.

She took a long breath instead and turned away, trying to calm herself. But it was written all over her face—she wanted to slap Vivienne hard enough to knock the smirk right off her.

Vivienne ignored her completely now and turned toward Mireille.

"I thought about it," she said simply. "I’m on board."

She didn’t smile this ti. Her voice was flat, serious. All the teasing left her face for a brief second, and what remained was the Vivienne only Mireille had ever seen—tired, clever, dangerous.

"So," Vivienne said, eyes locked on Mireille’s. "What’s the plan?"