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

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

A couple more days had passed and things were still the same between the couple—no, perhaps it was even worse.

Killian felt as though he were trapped in an endless spiral of guilt and longing, incapable of pulling himself out. He saw Yvette every day, but it was as though she was out of reach every day, becoming a mirage of the woman he’d once held close.

She had thrown herself entirely into her duties as Fiona’s chaperone, her every moment dedicated to ensuring Fiona’s success for the Season. She was poised, attentive, and utterly untouchable.

Killian, on the other hand, had sunk into frustration. Every attempt to focus on his work crumbled beneath the weight of his thoughts. He missed her. Not just her presence, but everything about her. The sound of her laughter, the way her lips curved into a smile, the warmth of her body against his at night.

“This is madness,” he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. He tugged at the roots as though the pain might ground him, but it was futile. He was losing himself to thoughts of her, and he hated it.

“This won’t do,” he muttered again, standing abruptly. He grabbed his jacket and strode out of the house, ignoring the curious glances of the staff as he left.

The gentlemen’s club was a place he rarely frequented, but tonight, it called to him like a sanctuary. He needed distraction, something to pull him away from the torment of his own mind.

The scent of cigars and aged whiskey mingled with the musky warmth of bodies crowded into the space. Low murmurs of conversation were paused by bursts of laughter and the occasional clink of glasses.

The dim lighting cast a sunset glow over the rich leather furniture, and the hum of a string quartet in the corner added to the overall vibe of the place.

Killian found a seat near the back of the room, where the shadows provided a semblance of privacy.

He ordered the strongest drink they had, his voice low and gruff. The waitress lingered longer than necessary, her friendly smile bordering on flirtation, but Killian barely noticed her; he was too focused on freeing his mind from thoughts of his most beautiful wife.

When the drink arrived, he downed the first glass in one go, wincing as the burn spread down his throat. The second glass followed quickly, and by the third, he was no closer to escaping the weight in his chest.

“Fancy seeing you here, Your Grace.”

The familiar voice jolted Killian from his thoughts. He raised his head, blinking as Edward approached his table with an amused smile.

“I thought you were enjoying such a wonderful marriage that I’d never find you in a place like this, at such a time,” Edward teased, pulling out a chair and settling in across from Killian.

Killian scoffed, his brogue thickening.

“And what about ye? Why are ye here at such a time?”

Edward laughed, signaling for a drink. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You look as though the weight of the world is on your shoulders. What’s the matter? You’ve lost your wit.”

Killian exhaled sharply, his fingers running through his hair again.

“I would prefer not to talk about it.”

Edward raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, but you will. You always strike me as the sort of man who broods in silence until he’s cornered. Consider yourself cornered.”

Despite himself, Killian chuckled dryly.

“Ye’ve got it all figured out, have ye?”

“Indeed, I have. So, what’s troubling you? Is it Yvette?” Edward leaned forward, his tone softening. “I might be her brother, but I’m also your friend—or at least I was, until you tried to kill me. Speak freely, and I might just be your voice of reason.”

Killian glared at Edward.

“You know damn well why I had to challenge you to a duel,” he said.

Edward put his hands up in defeat, “Peace, my friend. And yes, I do know. Now, will you talk to me?”

Killian hesitated, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Edward’s gaze remained steady and patient, and eventually, Killian relented. He explained the tension between him and Yvette, his fears, his guilt, and the argument that had driven a wedge between them.

Edward listened intently, his expression growing more serious with each passing moment. When Killian had finished, Edward leaned back in his chair, studying him.

“You’re a fool,” Edward said bluntly, earning a glare from Killian.

“And before you get defensive, hear me out. Yvette is strong, yes, but she’s also human. She’s your wife, Killian. She needs you to fight for her, not against her.”

Killian’s jaw tightened. “And what if I’m the one who fails her?”

“Then you try again,” Edward said firmly. “Marriage isn’t about perfection; it’s about commitment. You’re so consumed by your fears that you’re pushing her away, and in doing so, you’re hurting both of you. If you care for her—and I know you do—you need to face whatever demons you’re wrestling with and let her in completely.”

Killian remained silent, Edward’s words cutting deeper than he cared to admit.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of raised voices at the entrance. Both men turned to see Lachlan barging into the club.

He pushed past the staff, his expression grim as he scanned the room.

“Killian! God, man, I have been looking for ye everywhere!” Lachlan’s voice boomed as he spotted him, drawing the attention of several patrons.

Killian rose from his seat, concern tightening his features.

“Lachlan, what is it?”

Yvette had been sleeping soundly, the dark comfort of the night enveloping her when a blood-curdling scream pierced the quiet. She jolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest as she fought to shake off the remnants of sleep.

“Fire!” came the shout from outside her door, muffled yet urgent. The words hit her like a physical blow, and she froze for a split second, panic clawing at her throat.

“Fire?” she thought in confusion. When the harsh stench of smoke reached her nose, her heart began pounding even harder, but she couldn’t bring herself to make a swift decision.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway, the frantic cries of servants running to and fro. Yvette’s mind raced, trying to process what was happening, the haze of sleep still thick in her thoughts.

She swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet landing on the cold floor. Smoke was beginning to creep under her door, curling in different shapes like a cloud.

But then, amidst the frenzy, she heard a loud scream that didn’t belong to anyone but Maisie. Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat.

Without thinking, Yvette bolted to the door, flinging it open. She didn’t pause to think, didn’t wait for instructions. The only thing that mattered was reaching Maisie.

“Maisie!” Yvette cried, her voice raw with desperation. She dashed down the hallway, her nightgown trailing behind her like a ghost in the thickening smoke. Servants scurried past her, their faces pale with fear, but Yvette didn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop.

Her feet pounded against the wooden floors, her mind focused solely on Maisie.

Yvette reached Maisie’s room in what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was mere moments. She froze in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. The sight before her was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

Killian stood with his back stiff and his jaw clenched as he watched Lachlan, his breath heavy, fists clenched at his sides.

Lachlan, still out of breath from his sudden arrival, hadn’t said what the issue was, and Killian was running out of patience.

“What is the matter?” He pressed again, hoping for a direct answer, but Edward seemed to take in their surroundings, and how Lachlan’s arrival had affected the club—not that Killian cared— as he stretched out his arms between the two men.

“Perhaps we should all sit and let Lachlan catch his breath,” Edward suggested.

“Now tell us. What is it, Lachlan?” Killian demanded, his voice sharp with urgency. His mind was still reeling.

Lachlan looked at Killian and Edward, his expression serious. His words, when they came, were heavy with the weight of the news he bore.

“I’ve uncovered something,” Lachlan began, his voice tight. “Something important.” He looked between the two men, his eyes filled with annoyance and urgency.

“I have found evidence that links Hilfern to the rumors.”

“What rumors?” Edward asked, his brow furrowing. He glanced at Killian, who remained silent, his face unreadable.

“The rumors involving you and my sister,” Killian spoke, his voice cold and distant. He did not look at Edward as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Lachlan, waiting for further explanation.

Edward stiffened at the mention of the rumors. His throat tightened and he swallowed hard, the reality of the situation settling heavily in the room. He said nothing, choosing to remain silent as Lachlan continued.

“I know ye told me to stop looking into it,” Lachlan said, his voice filled with regret. “But I couldn’t stop because I was so close to the truth.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “It’s Hilfern. He’s the one behind it all.”

Killian’s heart dropped at the revelation, his blood running cold.

“How did ye come about that conclusion?” he asked, his fists clenched tight on his thighs, his eyes never leaving Lachlan.

“I began to follow him ever since you told me of his behavior towards ye and yer family,” Lachlan said, and it made perfect sense.

Killian had vaguely mentioned to Lachlan during one of their meetings, before he had decided to put a pause on the situation, that Lord Hilfern was particularly hostile toward the entire family, including Edward’s.

Edward, who had been silent, nodded, but still said nothing.

“Hilfern has been seen near the Oakbourne townhouse. The past couple of days, he’s been skulking around the place, for whatever reason. When I made the connection, I hurried here to tell you.”

Killian’s anger flared as he remembered the time he had seen a shadowy figure outside his window, watching from a distance. He had dismissed it as nothing more than a figment of his imagination. But now, everything had changed.

If Hilfern had been seen around Oakbourne townhouse, it meant he was planning something, and Killian needed to get to the bottom of it.

Without waiting for another word, Killian shot up from his seat, his fists clenched with determination.

“I need to leave, now,” he growled, his voice low and filled with urgency.

Edward, still processing the information, nodded quickly.

“We shall come with you.”

The three men rushed out of the gentlemen’s club, the weight of the discovery heavy on their shoulders. They moved quickly, with purpose, but Killian’s mind was already on another matter, a much more immediate danger. His wife. Yvette. And Maisie, his daughter.

As they raced through the streets toward home, Killian couldn’t shake the image of his family, alone and helpless. His chest tightened with fear, and every second that passed felt like an eternity.

“Lord Hilfern?” Yvette’s voice trembled with disbelief and rage as she stared into the room.

The smoke swirling in the air stung her eyes, but the sight before her was far more chilling. Hilfern stood there, his expression a twisted blend of bitterness and audacity, as if he belonged there.

“What are you doing in my little girl’s room?” Yvette screamed, her voice rising with urgency and maternal protectiveness.

She stormed into the room, paying no mind to the fact that Hilfern might be armed or dangerous.

Hilfern chuckled darkly, his cold, calculating eyes fixed on her.

“Your little girl? Oh, how delusional you’ve become, Duchess.”

Yvette froze for a moment, her chest heaving as she processed his words.

“What are you talking about?”

Hilfern stepped closer, his tone dripping with disdain.

“It seems marriage to the duke has truly addled your brain if you’ve convinced yourself that you’re Maisie’s mother.”

Behind Yvette, Maisie whimpered, tears streaming down her soot-streaked face as she hiccupped from fear. Yvette’s heart wrenched at the sound. She moved protectively in front of Maisie, blocking her from his view as she glared up at him.

“She is my stepdaughter,” Yvette said, her voice unwavering despite the terror building in her chest.

Hilfern’s laughter echoed cruelly, a sound as sharp as broken glass.

“Albina’s daughter. That’s all she will ever be. You’re nothing but a stand-in, a poor substitute for a mother. Let go of these ridiculous delusions of grandeur.”

Yvette’s fingers tightened on Maisie’s shoulders, shielding her from the man’s venomous words.

“What is your problem with Maisie?” she asked, her voice strained as she fought to maintain her composure.

Hilfern’s expression darkened, his lip curling into a snarl.

“She’s the only memory of Albina left in this world. The only piece of her still breathing. I won’t stand by and watch that monster, Killian, destroy her the way he destroyed Albina!”

The accusation sent shockwaves through Yvette’s body.

“What…what are you saying?” she asked, her voice faltering as she tried to make sense of his words.

Hilfern took a step closer, his face contorted with grief and fury.

“Albina was my first love,” he hissed. “We promised ourselves to each other. She was mine. But then, suddenly, she was given away to that…half-breed duke as though she were some slave to be sold.”

Yvette gasped softly, her hands trembling as she pulled Maisie tighter against her, willing the little girl to stay quiet, to stay unnoticed, because it seemed Hilfern was out of his mind—if the subtle slurring of his words was anything to go by.

Hilfern continued, oblivious to Maisie’s struggle.

“I thought I could endure it, thought I could survive seeing her as another man’s wife. But then I went away, and when I returned…” His voice broke, his bitterness giving way to a flicker of raw pain.

“She was dead. Gone. And that man, that half-breed duke didn’t deserve her. He never cherished her as I did.”

Yvette’s throat tightened as she stared at him. His words were filled with a twisted kind of logic, his grief having morphed into an obsession.

Hilfern straightened, his face once again cold and unreadable.

“So now, I’ve come to take Maisie. She’s all I have left of Albina, and I’ll preserve her before Killian destroys her, too.”

Yvette’s eyes burned, both from the smoke and the weight of his words. She could feel Maisie’s tiny frame trembling against her, the little girl trying desperately to stifle her coughs.

“This is insanity,” Yvette whispered, her voice trembling with both fury and disbelief. “You think you can just take her away? Maisie is not yours to take, Hilfern. As her mother, I’ll protect her and you’ll never lay a hand on her.”

Hilfern’s lips curled into a mocking smile.

“Oh, I’ll do more than that if you stand in my way. Step aside, Duchess. Hand her over to me, and I might just let you leave here unharmed.”

Yvette’s heart thundered in her chest, but she didn’t waver. She crouched down, wrapping her arms tightly around Maisie’s small frame.

“If you want her, you’ll have to pry her from my dead arms.”

Hilfern’s expression darkened, his patience snapping.

“I’ll be glad to do so,” he snarled, stepping forward toward Yvette with menace in his eyes.