The Duke’s Sinful Bride (Vows of Sin #5)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“ T his is all a terrible misunderstanding,” Edward began, his voice low and steady.

Yvette stood her ground between the two men, her eyes darting nervously between her brother and the Duke of Braemore. Both men had finally tucked their pistols away, but her posture remained tense. She didn’t trust the duke not to lunge at Edward—or worse, draw his weapon again the moment her back was turned.

Edward’s shoulders were stiff, his jaw clenched as though he were battling to maintain his composure. He took a deliberate step forward, his gaze locking onto the duke.

“So ye have said, but ye have nothing to back yer claim,” the duke replied, his voice firm.

“I need you to listen to me, my friend. I would never ruin Fiona.”

The duke’s dark brows furrowed deeply, his expression skeptical but restrained.

Yvette stole a quick glance at him and shivered. He was standing motionless, his long coat flaring out slightly in the breeze, giving him a foreboding aura. The tension emanating from him was nearly tangible.

“I was at Lady Berwick’s ball,” Edward continued, his tone softening slightly. “It was late into the evening when I noticed Fiona leaving the room in tears. She ran out into the gardens, and I followed her. I couldn’t just leave her like that—she was clearly distressed.”

The duke’s lips twitched as though he wanted to interject, but Edward pressed on quickly, not giving him the chance.

“When I caught up to her, she told me everything,” Edward said, his voice tightening with emotion.

“A vile lady taunted Fiona about her Scottish heritage. She claimed that no matter how exquisite her beauty, she’d never be welcomed into the circles of the ton . Fiona was devastated, and in need of comfort. All I did was hug her. Someone might have seen us and misunderstood the situation. That’s all it was.”

Yvette’s arms were folded tightly across her chest as she studied her brother. His explanation was simple enough, but she couldn’t help the gnawing skepticism that bubbled within her.

Too often, men had claimed innocence in situations like these, only for the truth to reveal something darker.

“You say someone must have misunderstood the situation,” Yvette said, her voice sharp. “But Edward, you know what the ton is like. They don’t care about truth—they care about scandal.”

Edward turned to her, his face pale but resolute. “I know that, dear sister. Believe me, I do,” then he turned to the duke.

“You must know Killian—I would never do something so dishonorable. I’ve been a fool in many ways before, but not in this regard. You know me better than that.”

The duke stepped forward.

“Do I?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the air like a blade.

His piercing gaze bore into Edward, scrutinizing every detail of his expression.

Edward swallowed hard, but he didn’t back down.

“You do,” he said firmly. “You know how much I love my family. You know of the situation surrounding my sister—how often I speak about the ton and what they did to her. Do you really think I would deliberately bring more shame to my family name?”

The duke didn’t respond immediately. He studied Edward in silence, his broad shoulders squared, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Ye swear?” he asked at last.

Edward straightened his spine, his eyes burning with earnestness.

“I swear on everything I am—on my honor as a marquess, on my son’s life. I would never hurt Fiona. She’s like a sister to me. I would never betray you like that, Killian. You’re my friend.”

Yvette watched the scene unfold in quiet awe. The air between the two men felt heavy, their trust hanging by a thread. She hadn’t realized her brother and the duke were this close. That their families knew one another so intimately was news to her, and it left a strange ache in her chest.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the duke shifted slightly, drawing her gaze back to him. He tilted his head, his sharp features catching the dim morning light.

His chiseled jaw, strong and unyielding, stood out in stark relief against the pale sky. She sucked in a quiet breath, suddenly and inexplicably mesmerized by him.

“What you say may be the truth,” the duke began, his voice firm and unyielding, “but the fact still remains that Fiona’s honor is ruined, and no matter what ye say, that stain will follow us.”

His gloved fingers flexed as he adjusted them carefully.

“I will not allow this scandal to tarnish my name. We must act quickly to restore Fiona’s honor and repair the damage done to both our families.” His words hung heavy in the air.

Yvette crossed her arms tightly against her chest, her wary eyes fixed on him. Something about the duke’s commanding presence unsettled her—perhaps it was his calm confidence, or the intensity in his gaze as he turned it toward her.

She blinked, trying to decipher what was swirling in his mind.

However, at that moment, his mesmerizing eyes fell on her, and with startling clarity, he spoke. “Ye must marry me.”

Yvette froze. The quiet field seemed to grow even more silent as his declaration registered.

Edward’s reaction was immediate, his protective instincts flaring as he stepped between his sister and the duke.

“What? No. No, Killian, surely there must be another way?” Edward protested, his expression one of utter shock, as though the mere suggestion was incomprehensible.

The duke opened his mouth to reply, but Yvette cut him off sharply.

“I will not be used as a pawn in whatever this is,” she declared, stepping out from behind her brother to confront the duke directly.

Yvette’s thoughts churned. This sort of maneuvering was precisely why she had avoided society for so long.

However, the duke was not one to be easily deterred. His dark brow arched as he regarded her.

“Do ye think I wish for this?” he asked, his thick accent carrying a note of annoyance.

The weight of his words, coupled with the sharpness of his gaze, silenced both brother and sister. He sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair in a display of exasperation.

“It is the only way. We must show our two families united together against this scandal. The ton would never expected me to wed ye if yer brother is truly guilty of ruining my sister. Once we marry, I shall do everything within my power to uncover the root of this false rumor. But with you as my wife, the ton will be more inclined to see that it was all false.”

Yvette hesitated, still processing the proposal.

“This is not about us, my lady,” he continued, his voice lower now but no less resolute. “It is about our siblings. About our families.” He paused for a moment, then added with a piercing look, “do ye not wish for yer nephew to have a future in society?”

The mention of her dear, sweet nephew struck a nerve. Yvette felt her resolve wavering, though she refused to let it show.

She had always been fond of her brother’s young son, exchanging letters with him during her years at the nunnery. The thought of him growing up ostracized, bearing the weight of a scandal not of his making, was unbearable.

She let out a soft, defeated sigh, and Edward, noticing her hesitation, reached out to take her hand. “Yvette,” he murmured, his voice laden with guilt and regret.

“Yer nephew deserves a chance, and my sister deserves redemption. If at all what your brother claims as the truth is indeed the truth. This union could save them both.”

Yvette looked between the two men—her brother, who had dragged her into this mess, and the duke, whose unyielding determination left her feeling cornered.

Her mind raced, weighing her options, but every path seemed to lead to the same conclusion. She could not marry the duke. She would not marry the duke.

Edward’s grip on Yvette’s hand tightened, silently imploring her. She pulled away, turning slightly to face him.

“And you,” she said bitterly. “What of your part in this? You expect me to sacrifice my life to fix a mess you created?”

“Yvette, I—” Edward began, but he had no defense, and his shoulders sagged under the weight of his guilt.

The duke stepped forward, his imposing presence filling the space between them.

“This is not a punishment,” he said firmly, addressing Yvette directly. “It is a solution.”

“A solution,” she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “One that benefits you most of all, does it not?”

The duke’s jaw tightened, but he did not rise to the bait. Instead, he met her gaze steadily.

“It benefits all of us,” he said simply.

Yvette took a step back, needing space to think. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, frustration, and despair. She had wanted a quiet life for herself, free from the demands of society. She had willed herself to make it happen, and now all her efforts were torn away in an instant.

However, deep down, she knew the duke was right. If she refused, the consequences would ripple outward, affecting not just her but the people she cared about most.

The silence stretched on, heavy with unspoken tension.

“I will need time to consider,” she finally said.

The duke inclined his head, his face impassive. “There is no time to consider, my lady,” he said. “Ye must decide here, or this duel will happen.” His hand sat atop his pistol, ready to pull it out at any given time.

“Yvette, you don’t have to do this.” Edward’s voice broke the tense gaze between them, filled with worry and an undeniable desperation as he looked at her, hoping she would refuse.

He turned toward the Duke of Braemore, eyes wide.

“Surely there must be another way?” he asked again, his tone heavy with concern.

With a steely gaze, the duke finally spoke, his voice cold and resolute.

“Ye think there’s another way? If there were, would I be standing here asking her to marry me?” His words were direct, every syllable sharp, his patience clearly thinning. He held their gazes, regarding them before speaking again.

“I’ll make it clear to society that this marriage ends the scandal. With ye as my wife, no one will question our families’ unity. The rumors about Fiona will lose their weight, and the ton will see that there’s no ill will between us. And, more importantly, no one will ostracize our families.”

Yvette’s heart tightened in her chest. She felt trapped once again, caught between the harshness of society’s demands and the pain of the past. The memories of her father’s rejection of her—the cruelty of her years at St. Catherine’s—pressed against her chest, suffocating her.

Her hands trembled, and she clasped them together to steady herself, fighting the rising panic in her chest.

“Ye must marry me,” Killian declared with an unwavering tone.

Yvette froze, her heart stuttering.

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the weight of his gaze, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur around her.

She finally released a long, defeated sigh, her shoulders sinking as the weight of her decision became clear. She turned to Edward, and her gaze softened for just a moment. His concern was palpable, but there was nothing he could do to change the outcome.

“I will,” she said simply.

Edward’s eyes widened in shock. “Yvette?—”

He stepped toward her, but she gently shook her head, signaling him to stop.

She knew this was the only option; the only way to ensure their families’ futures. And though it tore her heart to do so, she could not let this scandal drag down those who had no part in it.

Turning to the duke, Yvette’s expression hardened. She met his gaze, her heart sinking. She knew he was right. The ton would never see this as anything but a strategic union, but that didn’t change the fact that their families’ fates were tied to it.

“I will marry you,” she said more clearly this time—for she had made her choice.