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

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“ H ow did you know about the duel?” Edward asked, his voice filled with confusion and a trace of concern as he dismounted his horse.

He stood for a moment, watching Yvette, who was already turning away from him as she dismounted her horse, her feet landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Nevertheless, her mind was a thousand miles away.

The moment she had set foot in the field earlier, she had been consumed by the urgency to stop her brother from making a fatal mistake. But now that the duel was averted, she found herself locked in a new dilemma—engaged to a duke, a man whose mind she could not read, whose intentions seemed as unclear as the sky above them.

Edward, walking beside her, glanced at her, brow furrowed. “Sister? Are you all right?”

Yvette exhaled sharply, unwilling to share the depths of her discomfort. “Yes. I… I suppose I am reminded of things I’d rather forget.”

Edward’s face darkened. “I—I remember that night.”

“Father was furious,” she replied. “He couldn’t even wait until morning. He had to get me out that night. He never listened to me, Edward. Not once.”

Edward’s jaw tightened.

Yvette’s eyes flashed with pain. “No matter how I tried to explain what had happened, he wouldn’t believe me. He called me a liar. And he didn’t care. All he cared about was the ton , about the scandal, about what people would think. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t care about the truth.”

“I believed you,” he said.

Yvette nodded. “I know. But it never mattered to him. He thought if he hid me away, it would all be forgotten. He cared only about the appearance of propriety.”

A long silence fell between them, heavy with the weight of difficult memories.

The sound of the stable boy tending to their horses drifted to them, but neither of them paid him much attention.

Finally, Edward spoke, his voice quiet but full of concern. “You didn’t want to come back here, did you?”

Yvette shook her head, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I didn’t. I told you as much after Father died, when you came to retrieve me. I would have stayed in the nunnery, but the scandal with you… it reached there. I couldn’t stay hidden any longer.”

Edward’s face softened, and he stepped closer, placing a hand on her arm. “Yvette, I’m sorry. I am sorry we had to be reunited under such circumstances.”

“I only came to stop you from getting yourself killed.” Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, her anger and frustration seeping through. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Edward stood motionless for a moment, just watching her.

“I snuck out of the nunnery,” Yvette continued, her voice quieter now, tinged with the exhaustion of her journey. “I used what little money I had saved to rent a horse and buy food for the ride.

When I finally reached the house earlier this evening, I barely had time to take it all in. I saw the butler. He looked worried, and was the one who told me that the duke had requested a duel. He said you two were both heading to the field to settle it.”

Edward’s expression darkened as the weight of his actions bore down on him, and Yvette sighed.

His head fell forward, and when he lifted it again, his eyes were filled with guilt, his voice low with regret.

“I know a marriage like this was the last thing you wanted,” he said, his words thick with sorrow. “I’m sorry for putting you through this, sister. I never meant for you to be dragged into this situation.”

Yvette looked at him then, the ache in her chest deepening. She could see the remorse in his eyes, but it did nothing to alleviate the anger she felt, not at him, but at the situation.

“I didn’t want to be here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But I couldn’t leave you to face this alone. I was scared I’d be late and you’d end up dead.”

Edward’s gaze softened, and he reached out to touch her shoulder, his grip gentle but firm.

“I never meant to put this burden on you,” he said quietly, his words filled with an anguish she hadn’t expected. “But I’ll make this right. I promise you that.”

For a moment, Yvette said nothing. She could feel her emotions rising, the frustration, the helplessness, and the anger. But, in the end, all she could do was nod. She had come to London for a reason, and while she may not have known what that reason was at the time, she understood it now.

“Let’s go inside,” she said, turning her back on him and walking toward the house, her heart heavy with the burden she now had to bear.

“We have a lot of work to do.”

When Yvette had first debuted into society, she had imagined what her wedding day would be like.

It would be a day of joy, a day like all the fairy tales she had read, where a young lady was presented at court, and the excitement of the Season’s events led to her own marriage.

She had imagined herself standing in a glorious white dress, the epitome of beauty, her father proudly escorting her down the aisle with a tear in his eye as he gave her away. He would be so proud of the woman she had become, of the love they had built as a family, and of the man she was to marry—someone who would cherish her, adore her, and share in a union built on love, not duty.

But now, as she stood in the grand ballroom of her family’s London house, the reality of it all felt like a cruel joke. The day she had imagined—the day when everything would be perfect, had been reduced to something so far removed from her fantasy that it seemed almost laughable.

Yes, she was wearing a white dress, but it was not the dream gown she had envisioned. It was plain and modest, a mere symbol of the ceremony to mark her marriage, and nothing more.

The ballroom—once the setting for grand parties and balls—had been turned into a hasty venue for the wedding breakfast after their arrival from the church where they’d been joined in holy matrimony, as if it were nothing more than a matter of form.

It was the perfect definition of a quick gathering.

The ceremony barely lasted an hour, hastened by her husband’s desire to conclude matters as quickly as possible, as though the whole event were nothing more than a tedious chore for him.

The guests had been few—her brother and his wife Georgiana, her nephew, Aaron, and Killian’s sister, Fiona. That was it. No elaborate celebration or hundreds of guests to witness the union. In truth, the entire event filled her with a quiet sense of emptiness. She had never imagined her wedding day would feel so hollow.

When the ceremony finally came to an end, there was no sense of excitement. The moment should have been life-changing, but instead, it felt like a formality—just another obligation checked off.

But then, amidst the cold formality, something unexpectedly warm and tender happened. Her nephew, Aaron, ran to her. The little boy threw himself into her arms, his small arms wrapped tightly around her waist like it wasn’t their first meeting. The gesture felt so innocent and genuine that it brought tears to her eyes.

Aaron held her like he had known her for years, as though there was no time lost between them, no gap filled by the years she had spent at St. Catherine’s, separated from the world.

Her heart swelled as she held him close, and for a moment, all the pain and confusion of the day seemed to fade away. His happiness, his joy at finally meeting her, was a balm to the raw wound she carried inside.

Yvette’s eyes watered, but she quickly blinked her tears away, trying to mask the sorrow that threatened to surface.

She pinched Aaron’s cheek gently, smiling as he beamed up at her, delighted by the attention.

“Good to see you, Aunt Yvette,” he chirped, his voice so cheerful it made Yvette’s heart ache even more.

“Good to see you too, darling,” she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Her brother, Edward, and his wife, Georgiana, stood a few paces away, watching the exchange. Yvette could see the slight awkwardness in Georgiana’s posture, the strained smile that lingered on her plump lips. It wasn’t that Georgiana disliked her, but there was an air of uncertainty between them. Georgiana wasn’t sure whether to offer a warm hug or a stiff handshake—whether she should act as a stranger or as family.

But, despite the tension, Yvette couldn’t help the urge to embrace her sister-in-law. She stepped forward without a second thought, and pulled Georgiana into a tight hug.

Georgiana’s surprise was evident for a moment, but she quickly returned the embrace.

“I genuinely wanted to come and visit you at the nunnery,” she said, her voice soft and sincere, “but I wasn’t sure if you’d like that.”

Yvette pulled back slightly to look at her, offering a small smile.

“I understand,” she replied, her voice quiet but not unkind, “but you know how stubborn Edward can be. I forbade him from coming to that wretched place, but he came anyway.”

Edward laughed lightly, his eyes glinting with affection for his wife.

“Well, you’re my only sister. It’s only natural that I saw to your welfare.”

Yvette gave a teasing smile. “Yes, you were always one to try and do what was best for me, whether I wanted it or not.”

Georgiana chuckled at the light-hearted exchange, her earlier discomfort easing. She took Yvette’s hands in hers, her expression shifting to something more earnest.

“Would it be all right if I came to visit you sometime?” she asked, her tone gentle, as if she were afraid of being too forward.

Yvette blinked in surprise but then nodded. “Of course,” she said warmly, “I would love for you to visit. It would be nice to have a proper conversation over tea sometime.”

While Yvette and her family continued talking, the soft sound of a throat clearing from behind her interrupted the moment.

Yvette turned, her gaze lifting to meet the gaze of Lady Fiona, who stood with her hands clasped behind her, staring at Yvette.

The resemblance between Lady Fiona and her brother was striking. The lady was reserved, as though she had learned to carry herself with the same controlled distance that the duke possessed.

Lady Fiona’s soft voice broke through the tension. “When I contemplated coming over,” she began, her tone both hesitant and sincere, “I wasn’t sure if I should congratulate you or apologize to you.”

Her Scottish accent—distinct but more refined than her brother’s—lingered in the air as she continued, her gaze searching for something in Yvette’s expression.

The duke shifted behind his sister, his brows furrowing in a protective manner he always seemed to adopt when his sister was involved.

Yvette’s heart tightened at Lady Fiona’s words.

“I finally decided that I should first thank you for doing this,” Fiona continued. “Thank you. For accepting my brother’s proposal to salvage what was left of my honor with this union.”

A deep breath escaped Lady Fiona’s chest as she continued, her voice trembling, “And I apologize that it had to come to this. Edward has been nothing but kind to me and my family.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Yvette replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “If anything, the ton is to blame for the misunderstanding, and I’m happy that, unlike mine, your honor can be saved.”

“You are too kind,” Lady Fiona whispered, her voice barely audible. “I never thought I’d find such compassion from anyone.”

Without thinking, Yvette stepped forward and pulled her sister-in-law into a hug.

“Oh,” she heard Lady Fiona exhale in shock.

Yet, eventually, the lady hugged her back, and Yvette wished that, with this hug, she could express everything in her heart. Mostly, that she wanted to have done more to prevent the events that led to this point.

When Lady Fiona finally pulled away, she moved over to Edward and Georgiana, leaving Yvette standing face to face with the duke.

Yvette’s breath caught in her chest as she took in the distance between them. They stood across from each other, both silent, as though weighing the weight of the words that hung in the air.

Yvette’s mind raced, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say other than tell him he looked dashing in his suit. She could feel his heavy gaze upon her, those stormy eyes never leaving hers—watching her, as though he could read her thoughts.

It was she who broke the silence.

“I expected your daughter to be in attendance,” she said, her voice steady but uncertain.

The statement hung between them, the words fragile as though they might shatter the moment.

Standing tall and unmoving, he shook his head. His eyes softened slightly, but his face remained unreadable.

“When the scandal broke, I sent her back to Braemore with her governess,” he replied, his tone calm, but with the same firm edge to it.

Yvette blinked, then nodded her head in understanding.

“Braemore,” she suddenly repeated, her curiosity piqued despite herself. “What is Braemore like?”

If it was to be her home from now on; she wanted to know what to expect. But instead of answering directly, the duke’s lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze never wavered from hers, and she felt a sudden shift in the air, a tension that grew between them.

“Our carriage is ready,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “When we get there, ye will find out for yerself.”