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Chapter Nine

Juliette's fingers tiredly worked the last delicate stitches on a gown as evening settled over London. The bell above the door chimed as the last customer left, leaving her alone to tidy up from the busy day.

"Ah, mon petit chat , what a day it's been," Juliette murmured to Odette, who had descended from their cozy flat above the modiste shop the moment the door shut. The feline blinked lazily, her fluffy tail curling around her paws.

As Juliette carefully folded fabrics and stored away tools, she recounted the day's events to her attentive companion. "We had Mrs. Marchand in, insisting on a gown for the ball. And then that charming young couple—newly engaged, they said! How delightful. I do adore a good love story."

Odette, seemingly more interested in chasing her own tail, flicked her ears as Juliette continued. "And Captain Castlebury! Did you see him, mon ami ? That ruggedly handsome man, striding in as if he owned the place. Unusual for such a stern man to grace our shop."

With the last gown neatly stored, Juliette stopped and stretched, her fingers brushing against the kitten's soft fur when she bent down. "There's something about him, chaton . Something that tugs at the corners of my thoughts. Those piercing green eyes, so knowing and intense. A mystery, non ? And he keeps calling me Julie, saying he knows me. Why? I am only Juliette." She moved to the front of the shop, securing the delicate dresses behind the glass cabinets. "Well, my friend, another day has come to an end. Let's head back upstairs and enjoy a quiet evening together."

The last glimmers of daylight faded outside, casting a muted warmth through the lace curtains of Juliette's shop. The ambiance shifted from the bustling energy of the day to a quieter, more intimate atmosphere. The lingering scent of perfumed customers filled the air as Juliette moved back through the shop, finishing her day's work.

She sighed, a mixture of contentment and restlessness lingering within her. "Ah, my creations, each with a story of its own," she mused, a wistful smile playing on her lips. The shop, with its varied hues and inviting textures, held a timeless charm. A haven where women sought elegance and a touch of the extraordinary in the carefully crafted gowns. She was proud of her place, of what she'd made.

As she moved to the counter, her gaze fell upon a small mirror framed in gilded gold. She caught her own reflection, noting her attire of practicality and fashion. The fabric of her gown flowed gracefully, a muted mulberry tone that complemented her auburn hair and hazel eyes. The dark smudges of worry beneath them were less complementary.

Still, her thoughts continued to stray to Captain Catamount Castlebury. "He's so… commanding, and yet there's a vulnerability," she muttered, her words a quiet confession to the empty shop—and Odette. The conflicting emotions, attraction and doubt, tugged at her. "What is it about him, mon ami ? Why does his gaze feel like a connection to a past I can't grasp? And that impossible vision of his kiss… What the deuce was that all about?"

Shaking her head at the bizarreness of it, Juliette moved to the door, the brass key cool against her fingertips. She took a lingering glance around the shop, the play of light and shadows casting a subtle spell on her dresses and the mysteries they held. With a final sigh, she turned the key in the lock, securing the modiste shop for the night.

"Oh," she gasped, recalling that she'd promised to get food for Odette before the end of day. Caught up in all the busyness of the day, she'd completely forgotten. "I'll get something from the tavern on Cork and be right back."

The soft jingle of the bell above the door marked her departure from the shop as she stepped outside into the cool autumn air. She spun toward the door once more, casting one last glance around to ensure everything was in order. With the shop securely locked, she found herself alone on Bond Street.

Feeling something at her ankles, she glanced down at find Odette rubbing against her. "How did you sneak out so quickly?" Picking her up, she nestled the kitten in her arms and prepared to take her back inside. "I know you're hungry, but you can't go with me to the tavern. I'm sorry, mon ami ."

Instead of purring, the kitten hissed and shrank into her arms.

Juliette paused, her intuition sharpening as an uneasy feeling settled upon her. She leaned her back against the shop door, her eyes darting along the low-lit street as she scanned it for anything out of place. "You feel it too, don't you?" she whispered to the kitten, gently stroking Odette's fur.

A faint rustle in the shadows suddenly caught Juliette's attention, and her senses went on high alert. She peered into the darkness, seeking the source of the sound. The sensation of being watched bloomed and quickly intensified.

Juliette stood tall, her gaze flitting nervously between the empty street and the locked door behind her. The kitten nestled closer, Odette's instincts clearly to hide. With a final, lingering look at the quiet street, Juliette whispered reassurances to her feline companion. "It's fine, just a stray animal. Maybe a mouse. Everything is fine, ma fille. "

She slid the brass key from her dress pocket and reached behind her for the knob. Fumbling at first, she soon slid it into place and heard the lock unlatch with relief. Together, she and Odette retreated into the safety of her shop, leaving the mystery of whatever that really was beyond the now-closed door.

The creeping unease lingered, however. Juliette strode through the room, glancing over the mannequins unadorned for the night, the fabric rolls neatly organized on shelves, and the remnants of a day spent attending to customers. Odette, still cradled in her arms, mirrored her apprehension by twitching her whiskers and letting out the occasional hiss. Juliette continued her soft murmurs, trying to soothe them both. But even with the door shut and locked, the sensation of being watched persisted. Like an invisible weight upon her shoulders.

She tightened her grip on the kitten, her footsteps hushed against the polished floorboards. With each passing moment, the feeling of being observed intensified. The gas lamps outside on Bond Street cast elongated shadows that shimmered eerily upon the walls of her shop.

She considered reaching for the comforting weight of the scissors or a pin, as means of self-assurance and protection, but the chilling awareness of an unseen gaze held her frozen to the spot. For several moments she stood there, breathing rapidly. Finally breaking free, she nearly ran toward the staircase leading to her flat above, Odette nestled against her shoulder now, her ears perked and flickering.

The trip upstairs, usually routine and uneventful, seemed to take forever.

At last, she closed the door to her flat behind her and leaned against it, still searching for some intruder, some spy, and thankfully finding none. Odette, sensing her distress, purred softly, offering comfort now that she was home. Despite the reassurance, the disquieting feeling lingered. The scent of lavender sachets permeated the air from Juliette's attempts at creating a tranquil haven amidst the hustle of her daily life.

Her gaze swept across the room as she kicked off her slippers, from the worn but cherished armchair by the window to the small writing desk scattered with sketches and fabric samples. The teakettle sat on the stove, an invitation to warmth and serenity. "I don't know what's gotten into me tonight," she admitted to the kitten, setting Odette gently on the arm of the chair. "Perhaps it's the talk of the Revivalists with the captain. It's unnerving, isn't it?"

As she busied herself in the compact kitchen, the rhythmic sounds of water pouring into a teapot provided a comforting backdrop to her murmured thoughts. The aroma of chamomile and lavender filled the air as she prepared the soothing brew, a ritual designed to dissipate any lingering disquiet. "The city has a way of seeping into your bones," she continued, the words more for her own reassurance than for the attentive kitten's. "These streets hold echoes, stories. Tonight feels different, though. As if they are whispering secrets about me . Watching me . I don't like it."

Juliette strained the tea and cradled the warm teacup in her hands. The fragrant steam rose in delicate tendrils. She settled into the armchair, the plush cushions embracing her as she gazed out of the window, seeking peace in the quiet of her flat. Her safe place. Odette was her furry, silent companion as they listened to the muted city sounds. She sipped her tea, the calming blend weaving a spell of tranquility around her, even as the vague unease persisted in the recesses of her mind.

As Juliette sat in the quiet, the lingering unease took on a more palpable form, like a ghostly whisper brushing against the recesses of her consciousness. The soft hum of the city outside seemed to fade as a flicker of something dark and painful danced at the edge of her awareness—a memory?

A tremor of discomfort coursed through her, and she instinctively recoiled from the encroaching tendrils of the elusive memory, a vision she instinctively did not want to see. The teacup tipped precariously in her hand. She jerked and shifted her gaze, choosing to focus on the sketches and fabric samples scattered across her writing desk—a deliberate distraction from the haunting unknown that pushed at the edges of her consciousness. Sweat broke out along her brow. Her breath shortened.

"It's nothing," she murmured to herself. "Just a trick of my mind, perhaps. All the Revivalist talk has unsettled me, that's all."

The kitten, ever attuned to her moods, nestled closer, offering a comforting presence. Juliette absent-mindedly traced the patterns on the teacup, as if seeking grounding in the tactile sensation.

A sudden crash echoed through her flat, shattering the tranquility that had just resettled over it. Her heart pounded as she recognized the sound of breaking glass. "No!" Leaping to her feet, she rushed to the nearest window, dread clawing at her chest, and her eyes widened at the sight of a fading figure disappearing down Bond Street toward Savile Row, and out of sight. Bricks, thrown with malicious intent, littered the sidewalk in front of her modiste shop. Shattered glass from her front window lay with them.

Juliette gasped. The window, a barrier between her sanctuary and the outside world, had been breached and violated. The shards of glass glittered like malevolent confetti on the street below, and Juliette's hands trembled as she pressed them against the cool surface of the second-floor window frame. "Why?" she whispered.

Tears threatened as she surveyed the aftermath of the vandalized shop below. She was shaken. Truly shaken.

It was time to seek the help offered from Captain Castlebury.

" Mon Dieu, " she uttered, her voice a shaky whisper as she looked at the mess below. "This is madness. What could anyone want with me?"

Odette, already curled back up in the chair, blinked at her.

Closing her eyes briefly, Juliette drew in a steadying breath. She had been hesitant, grappling with uncertainties about the startling connection between her and the captain. Yet this… intrusion , this violation of the space she had worked so hard to build, pushed her past the threshold of reluctance.

"Captain Castlebury," she murmured, pacing the room with an anxious energy. "I never thought I'd seek his help again, but this… this is beyond what I can handle alone." She glanced at the kitten, seeking some form of reassurance in her innocent gaze. " Oui , I'm going to do it."

Juliette descended the stairs from her flat to the downstairs shop. Across the room, the shattered window gaped like a wound. Gathering what remained of her composure, she made her way to the door, stepping over the bricks that littered the floor, intent on seeking assistance from the one person who had unwittingly become a central figure in the unraveling mysteries of her life.

The gas lamps cast a feeble glow as she stepped into the cool night air. "Let's try this again. To the Bow Street Runners' headquarters and Captain Castlebury I go."

Shards of the front window lay scattered like broken dreams around her.

Fear clutched at her as she surveyed the damage, her unsteady hands reaching for the door to pull it shut. Among the wreckage at her feet, a glimmer caught her eye—a note, tied to one of the bricks. Trepidation seized her as she hesitated for a moment, dread intensifying. Nevertheless, her determination pushed her forward, and she gingerly picked up the brick with the note, reading: We know who you are.

The taunting, terrifying words leapt off the paper, freezing her blood. With a deep breath, Juliette clutched the note tightly, scanning the street, more than half expecting the unseen adversary to materialize.

The offer of help from Captain Castlebury suddenly seemed like a lifeline.

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