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

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

I t had been over a month since the wedding, and though Yvette had settled into life at Braemore Castle, there was always the quiet anticipation that this time would come. The time to return to London, to the bustling city that would once again become their home, albeit for only a short while.

Killian had already given the orders to the household, instructing them to prepare for the journey. The servants were bustling around, packing everything that was needed for their six-day journey, and for the first time, Yvette found herself feeling a litany of emotions.

It was strange how the calm of Braemore had become a refuge, a place where she could breathe and find her footing. But London—London was where everything would change once more.

It was the final day of the journey, and the family was on the road. The carriage creaked as it moved steadily forward, the wheels turning rhythmically over the gravel and dirt paths. Yvette stared out of the window, her mind distant, reflecting on the time spent at Braemore.

Maisie was curled up beside her, sleeping soundly, the rhythmic motion of the carriage had lulled her into a peaceful slumber. Yvette absently stroked Maisie’s curls, her gaze drifting over the landscape, but her thoughts were far from the passing scenery.

It wasn’t long before she became aware of a presence in the carriage that was subtly pulling her attention. She raised her eyes to where Killian sat, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he read through a pile of important papers. He was so focused, but Yvette realized she had been staring at him for quite some time.

She quickly looked away, a faint flush creeping up her neck.

Killian, however, had already noticed her gaze. His eyes lifted from the papers, locking onto hers with an amused yet questioning glance.

Raising an eyebrow, he studied her for a long moment, his lips curling slightly. She pressed her lips together, as her cheeks colored fiercely. She cleared her throat and shifted slightly, trying to ignore the sudden rush of nervousness inside her.

“Sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

But what she didn’t realize was that her very presence was a distraction for him. Killian had been forcing himself to concentrate on the papers, even though every instinct in him was urging him to do anything but.

The way she sat there, so effortlessly graceful, her fingers gently brushing through Maisie’s hair, sent a warmth flooding through him. Every time he tried to look back at the paper, his mind would wander to her instead.

“It’s not a problem,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and calm. He set the papers aside, folding them neatly and placing them down on the seat beside him.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, his gaze softening slightly, though his eyes remained on her.

Yvette hesitated for a moment, biting her lower lip as she considered his question. She shook her head, but then a thought crossed her mind, and she spoke up.

“I wanted to know if Fiona is already on her way to your London residence,” she said, her voice uncertain, “or if she’ll wait until we’ve arrived and settled before she comes?”

Killian’s eyes shifted slightly, his posture straightening as he folded his hands on his lap.

“I exchanged letters with Fiona,” he explained, his tone steady. “She must be on her way to London by now. She’ll likely arrive before we do.”

Yvette nodded, a small, almost undetectable smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

For a moment, there was silence between them, save for the occasional rattle of the carriage wheels. Killian returned to the papers, though his mind seemed less focused now. His fingers tapped lightly against the pages, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn’t concentrate, not when Yvette was sitting so close to him, her presence filling the small space between them.

Yvette, sensing his unease, couldn’t help but glance at him again. There was that tension that had been building between them since that night in her room. They hadn’t spoken about it, even after the lovely time they’d had at the Braemore Fair, which was his fault, because he’d thrown himself into his work.

He felt her eyes on him as he glanced down at the papers once more, and though he tried to seem intent on them, he couldn’t. He clenched his fingers, and set the papers aside with a deliberate motion. He knew he couldn’t pretend to work anymore.

He turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes once more. This time, the look he gave her was less questioning and more…searching.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. But there was an edge to it, he was probing for more than just a simple answer.

Yvette’s breath caught in her throat. “I’m fine,” she said softly, her voice steady but tinged with an uncertainty she couldn’t hide. “I just?—”

But she stopped herself, unsure how to explain the strange emotions she had been feeling. She didn’t understand it fully herself, but it seemed as if something had shifted between them since that night.

A silence stretched between them again, thick with unspoken words. Yvette shifted slightly in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but she couldn’t help but notice how Killian’s gaze never fully left her. His quiet observation was enough to set her pulse racing again, though she tried her best to ignore it.

Finally, Killian let out a low sigh and shifted in his seat.

“Ye’ll be alright. I shall make sure of it,” he said, his tone softer than before, but still holding that quiet intensity that she couldn’t quite resist.

The carriage came to a gradual halt, the sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestones fading as they arrived in London. Yvette’s stomach tightened as she looked out of the window.

London.

The city felt more daunting than she remembered, its busy streets bustling with carriages and elegantly dressed people. It had been years since she’d left this world behind, in addition to the month she’d spent in Braemore, and now she wasn’t sure how to feel about being back.

The quiet countryside had offered her a reprieve from the bustling city, its whispers, and the ton’s expectations. But now, reality had reared its head, and with it came the sharp reminder of why she had married Killian in the first place.

Would the ton still remember her? she wondered.

She wasn’t naive enough to think they’d forgotten, but she wanted to believe they wouldn’t find it all that interesting to speak about anymore.

A gentle pressure on her thigh broke her spiraling thoughts. She glanced down to see Killian’s hand resting there, his touch firm and reassuring. She turned to him, her lips curling into a small, tight-lipped smile.

His brows knitted slightly as though he sensed her unease, but he said nothing. Perhaps he knew his words wouldn’t help, or perhaps he wasn’t sure what to say.

The imposing structure of Oakbourne townhouse loomed ahead, its elegant columns and wrought iron gates a reminder of Killian’s status as they neared it.

The door to the carriage opened, and Killian alighted first before helping Maisie down. Yvette followed, adjusting her gloves and taking in the familiar surroundings. She was still taking in the townhouse’s grandeur when a figure emerged from the open doors.

“Maisie!” a cheerful voice called, and Fiona came into view, her golden hair glinting in the afternoon sun.

“Aunt Fiona!” Maisie squealed with delight, running to the woman with arms wide open. Fiona knelt and scooped the little girl into her embrace, lifting her off the ground for a moment before setting her back down.

“I missed you so much, Auntie!” Maisie gushed, her words spilling out in excitement. “Papa came back without you, and I was so sad!”

Fiona smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair from Maisie’s face. “Oh, my sweet little Mai, I missed you, too. I was counting the days until I could see you again.”

Maisie beamed at her, her happiness infectious. Fiona then turned her attention to Yvette, her arms extending in an invitation. Yvette hesitated for only a brief moment before stepping into the embrace, surprised by how natural it felt.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Fiona said as they pulled apart. “Tell me, did you enjoy Braemore?”

Yvette’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have returned to London.”

Fiona giggled, her hand resting lightly on Yvette’s arm. “It must have been lovely there.”

Yvette nodded.

“It was. Perhaps I’ve been away from London for so long that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to live here.”

The mood shifted slightly, an undertone of tension slipping into the air at her words and what they meant. Fiona’s gaze darted toward her brother, who stood a few steps away, his expression unreadable.

“Killian,” Fiona said, her voice softer now. “Have you been well?”

Killian’s posture stiffened. His lips pressed into a thin line before he answered.

“I have,” he said curtly, his tone betraying nothing.

Yvette frowned as she observed the exchange. The tension between brother and sister was palpable, and it tugged at something in her heart. Fiona’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, her eyes darting back to Yvette as though searching for a distraction.

Yvette sighed inwardly, frustrated by Killian’s aloofness. This was his only sister, and yet he acted as though she were a stranger. The last time they’d been together on the wedding day, it didn’t seem like there was bad blood between them. Something must’ve happened between them after that day.

“Well,” Yvette said brightly, hoping to ease the tension. She hooked her arm through Fiona’s and took Maisie’s small hand in her free one, pulling them away from the carriage. “Since Killian is in one of his brooding moods, I think you should be the one to give me a tour of Oakbourne townhouse. What do you say, Fiona?”

Fiona’s smile returned, this time more genuine. “I’d be delighted, Your Grace.”

Yvette had been a little worried about Fiona’s presence as they’d all live in London for a while. They had only met once, and a month had passed since then, but it seemed her worry was unfounded.

“Please, call me Yvette,” she replied, her tone light as she led Fiona and Maisie toward the townhouse. “I have a feeling we’re going to get along splendidly.”

Fiona guided Yvette through the grand corridors of Oakbourne townhouse, their footsteps muffled by the plush Persian rugs that lined the floors. The tour began with introductions to the household staff, a process Yvette had grown accustomed to since her marriage.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Harrow, led the introductions, her demeanor professional yet kind. When the introductions concluded, Mrs. Harrow escorted Yvette to her quarters.

“This will be your room, Your Grace,” Mrs. Harrow announced, gesturing to a large, elegantly furnished chamber. The soft hues of cream and gold complemented the delicate floral designs on the wallpaper, and a large canopy bed sat as the centerpiece.

“Thank you,” Yvette said, stepping inside.

Mrs. Harrow nodded before leaving, allowing Yvette to take in her new surroundings. She let out a soft sigh, running her fingers along the edge of the intricately carved vanity table.

Separate rooms again.

A sigh escaped her lips as she told herself it was a blessing—privacy, space to breathe—but a pang of disappointment settled in her chest. She shook her head, determined not to dwell on it.

The next morning, after a well-deserved rest, Yvette woke feeling refreshed. Fiona had been right—life in London moved faster than in Braemore, and it felt like she’d barely had a moment to herself since their arrival. Still, she was eager to spend more time with Fiona and Maisie and proposed the idea of a tea party in the garden.

“Nothing too formal,” Yvette told Fiona as they strolled through the townhouse grounds earlier that morning. “Just the three of us. I think Maisie would enjoy it.”

“Maisie would love it,” Fiona agreed with a grin. “And so would I. It has been far too long since I indulged in a proper tea party.”

By midday, the garden was set. A round table draped in white linen was adorned with delicate porcelain teacups, an assortment of finger sandwiches, and freshly baked scones. Yvette watched with a smile as Maisie darted between the flowerbeds, her laughter filling the air.

“Careful not to get your dress dirty, Maisie,” Fiona called, though her tone was light.

When they all finally settled at the table, Maisie’s cheeks were flushed with excitement.

“I’ve never done this before” Fiona said as she poured tea into Yvette’s cup. Yvette raised her brows in shock and Fiona nodded. “I have no friends. According to some ladies I tried to acquaint myself with, my slight accent makes it difficult for them to understand me.”

Yvette felt her heart clench, and she placed a hand on Fiona’s thigh, as if to reassure her.

“You do not deserve that.”

Fiona nodded, raising her teacup to her face, before she changed the topic to a lighter one.

“Braemore must have kept you very busy.”

Yvette smiled, adding a touch of sugar to her tea. “It did, but I enjoyed every moment of it.”

“Every moment?” Fiona raised a brow, her tone teasing.

“Well, perhaps not every moment,” Yvette admitted with a laugh. “But there’s something about Braemore that feels… grounding. It’s peaceful.”

Maisie, sitting beside Yvette, perked up.

“Duchess is the best at horse riding!”

Fiona froze mid-sip. “Duchess?” She set her teacup down and looked at her niece.

“Maisie, dear, why are you calling Yvette, ‘duchess’? She is your stepmother. You should address her properly.”

Maisie pouted, her brows furrowing. “But I like calling her duchess. It suits her.”

Yvette placed a gentle hand on Maisie’s shoulder, her smile warm. “It’s perfectly fine, Fiona. I rather like it.”

Fiona blinked, her surprise evident.

“You do?”

“I do,” Yvette confirmed, a small smile settling on her face as she remembered having a similar conversation with Killian.

“Titles can be so formal, but when Maisie says it, it feels… affectionate. Personal. I don’t mind at all.”

Fiona leaned back in her chair, her expression softening.

“Well, if you’re alright with it, I suppose I have no objections.”

Maisie beamed, clearly pleased with the outcome.

As they sipped their tea and nibbled on sandwiches, the conversation turned back to Braemore. Yvette recounted some of the highlights of her time there, including the annual fair.

“You attended Braemore’s fair?” Fiona exclaimed, nearly dropping her teacup.

Yvette nodded, amused by her reaction. “I did. Killian and Maisie joined me.”

Fiona looked utterly baffled. “Killian? My brother attended Braemore’s fair?”

“Yes,” Yvette said with a soft laugh. “He even stayed the entire time.”

“That is shocking,” Fiona said, shaking her head. “He usually avoided the fair like the plague. What changed?”

Yvette hesitated, her mind briefly flashing to the moments they’d shared during the fair.

“Perhaps he wanted Maisie to experience it,” she said simply.

Fiona eyed Yvette curiously but chose not to press further. Instead, she raised her teacup in a mock toast.

“Well, I’m impressed. You’re clearly working miracles with him, Duchess.”

Yvette chuckled, feeling a warmth in her chest at Fiona’s words.