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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 quicklyrecovered, 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.