Page 33 of Under Her Protection

Tuesday, Day Eight. Maison Noire.

Vivienne had not been back since the night of the alert. Eight days was a long absence by her standards; she had offered Colette a quiet apology by note, which Colette had acknowledged by note, which was how these things were done between women who had known each other twelve years.

Tonight she arrived at nine, and she arrived with Leo.

Colette was at the inner door, as always. Her eyes moved from Vivienne to the figure behind Vivienne's shoulder, and for a single breath Vivienne watched her friend register, compute, and adjust. Colette did not miss a thing. Colette had not missed a thing in a decade. The small gracious shift of her features was the only clue anyone would have that she had just read a new piece of intelligence into the house.

"Madame."

"Colette."

"Mademoiselle?"

Leo, in a fitted black suit Vivienne had watched her put on at the residence, inclined her head a single degree. "Cole. Blackthorn."

Leo looked exquisitely handsome, her hair slicked back, her skin glowing, her eyes alert for everything. Vivienne as much as she tried to school her gaze away from Leo, she had to admit, it kept drifting back.

"You are expected," Colette said.

"I understood I would be."

Colette turned to Vivienne with a small formal courtesy. "Dominique has conveyed the terms. You have reviewed them."

"I have."

"Mademoiselle Cole."

"Yes."

"Entry to Maison Noire is a privilege. Our discretion rules are absolute. What you see here stays here. What you hear here stays here. What is asked of you here is answered here and nowhere else. Do you accept."

"I accept."

"Your word."

"You have it."

It was as formal as Colette got, and she did it lightly, which meant she did it well. She stepped back, and the velvet draperies parted, and Vivienne led Leo into the house.

She had worried, mildly, that walking in with Leo would feel like an announcement. It did not. It felt like walking in with a person who knew how to walk into a room, which was a thing that had never been said of any man Vivienne had been with. Vivienne found men were eclipsed by her own presence. Leo Cole was not eclipsed by her presence, and that in itself was intriguing. Although there had been no men or in fact no lovers in some time.

Leo, in the black suit, with her hair back and her hands by her sides and her eye on the room, did not draw attention. She simply occupied space the way the house occupied space. Vivienne, without planning to, absorbed it, a small quiet feeling she did not name.

Colette had given them the red lounge.

Isabella was already there. Sienna was already there. Charlotte Langford, the ex British Prime Minister was in the far armchair, in a grey Chanel, set down her glass as Vivienne and Leo came through the velvet and watched the two of them cross the room with a look Vivienne knew well enough to recognize as the Langford full-spectrum assessment. Langford did not smile; Langford never smiled until she had decided.

"Vivienne."

"Charlotte."

"And you are?" Langford was as direct as ever as she looked Leo up and down.

"Cole," Leo said. "Blackthorn."

"Blackthorn I know."

Leo nodded.