Page 4

CHAPTER 2

“This 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 theton. 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 thetonis 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 thetonand 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.”