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for a moment, looking around the room restlessly. This wasn’t the room where she took lovers and played the role of notorious mistress and courtesan. This was her real chamber. Where she could be Vivien. Only Vivien. Where she mulled her triumphs and her hurts.
    Tonight was a hurt.
    With a shake of her head, she moved to her dressing table and withdrew a slip of paper from the drawer. It was the list she and her servant had made a few days past. Her list of loose ends to tie up before she left the city and this life forever.
    She sighed as she poured over each item. She had begun on the first item there. Celebrate Friends. Tonight had been a success, though it felt rather hollow at present. She still had a few things in mind, but she was well on her way to crossing this item off.
    She scanned lower until she reached number ten. Benedict. She had rather hoped he would come to her, they would make love and that would settle her tormented thoughts about him. That she would end the night by crossing him off too.
    Instead, she felt more ill at ease about the man than ever. But if he refused to come to her, did that not resolve their loose end in some way? After all, his refusal to come to her did make it clear that he believed there was nothing left between them to discuss.
    She reached for the pen on her dressing table and the corked bottle of ink beside it. Her hand hovered above the list as she prepared to cross his name off, even if the matter felt unfinished. But before she could do so, there was a knock on the door behind her.
    She got to her feet. Rachel might have forgotten something when she readied Vivien for bed. Smoothing her robe, she called out, “Come in.”
    She was surprised when her butler, Nettle, was the one behind the chamber door. He gave her an apologetic bow before he began to speak.
    “I realize it is terribly late, Miss Vivien,” he began.
    She waved her hand. “Do not trouble yourself, Nettle, I wasn’t abed yet. Is there something wrong? Something to discuss about the party tonight?”
    She could scarcely believe it would be an issue regarding the party. Nettle had certainly seen far more scandalous ones without blinking an eye or commenting.
    It was why she kept him in her employ. Trust and discretion.
    “No, miss,” he said with a darting glance in her direction that gave her pause. It was a look of concern and directed at her, though that wasn’t Nettle’s nature. “It isn’t a problem with the household that brings me to your chamber. You have…a visitor.”
    All the breath left Vivien’s lungs in that moment as she stared at the servant with wide eyes and shaking hands.
    “A visitor?” she repeated on the barest of whispers. There could be only one person who would come to her now. “Benedict?”
    The servant nodded slightly. “Yes, miss. Mr. Greystone has been shown to your… other chamber and awaits you there because I assumed that was still your desire. If I am wrong and you would like me to tell him that you are already abed and do not wish visitors, I will do so.”
    Vivien wrinkled her brow at the almost hopeful tone of the butler. Certainly Nettle had seen a great deal in his time with her, but he had never seemed offended by her late-night visitors. And he’d always seemed to especially like Benedict. When they were together, he had been far warmer with him than her other protectors.
    “No,” she insisted quickly, as if the man would dash from the room and send Benedict from her if she didn’t hurry her response. “I will see him. Tell him I’ll join him in a moment. And you and the rest of the staff can take to your own beds. It has been a very long day for you, I’m certain.”
    Nettle hesitated, but then whatever personal thoughts he had been sharing with his meaningful glances and tone of voice vanished, leaving only her trusted servant in their wake.
    “Yes, miss. I shall impart the message. Do ring if you have any need for anyone else tonight.”
    She nodded