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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 inLondon. 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 theton’sexpectations. 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.”