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“I recall,” she said coolly, standing a little straighter. “You had quite a lot to say about my family, last night.”

Hilfern’s smile widened, unbothered that he’d been caught, as if her challenge amused him.

“Ah, yes. My apologies if my remarks offended you. I merely say what others are too afraid to voice.”

“How brave of you,” Yvette replied, her tone sharp. “To whisper behind people’s backs.”

His eyes glinted with malice. “I see why the duke married you. A sharp tongue, though not quite the match for Albina’s grace, wouldn’t ye agree? Especially given yer history.”

Yvette clenched her hands beneath the table, her nails biting into her palms. “I heard the late duchess was a remarkable woman,” she said evenly, refusing to rise to his bait.

Hilfern leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping.

“Does his daughter resemble him or her? I’ve always wondered.”

The cruelty of the question struck Yvette like a slap. “It is not a concern of yours,” she said firmly. “And I won’t entertain such tasteless inquiries.”

Hilfern tilted his head, clearly savoring her discomfort.

“Of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely curious.” He rose, bowing slightly. “A pleasure, Your Grace.”

Yvette watched him walk away, her chest tightening with unease. His knowledge of her family was disturbingly detailed, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he had a deeper motive for his comments.

When Killian returned, his brow furrowed as soon as he saw her face.

“What happened?”

Yvette hesitated, then told him about the encounter with Hilfern. As she spoke, Killian’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

“I’ll ruin him,” he growled. “That bastard won’t?—”

“Killian,” Yvette interrupted, placing a hand on his chest.

“This isn’t the place for such threats. We can’t afford another scandal.”

His dark eyes softened slightly as he looked at her, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But we’re leaving. I’ll not have ye subjected to this any longer.”

She nodded, relief washing over her. “Thank you.”

The next morning, Yvette sat alone in one of the drawing rooms, gazing out at the bustling London street below. She was lost in thought when Fiona entered, her youthful energy lighting up the room.

“Good morning, Yvette!” Fiona chirped, settling into the chair opposite her. “You look deep in thought.”

“Just reflecting,” Yvette replied with a small smile. “How are you this morning?”

“Wonderful,” Fiona said, her cheeks slightly pink.

“Although I was wondering…” She hesitated, fiddling with the lace trim of her gown. “Do you think I’ll ever secure a match?”

Yvette’s heart softened at the vulnerability in her voice.

“Of course you will, Fiona. You’re beautiful, kind, and intelligent. Any gentleman would be lucky to have you.”

Fiona’s smile was shy but grateful. “Thank you, Yvette. Your words mean a lot.”

In the weeks that followed, Yvette, Killian, and Fiona attended numerous events—balls, plays, soirées, and more. Slowly, the whispers about Yvette and Fiona’s past scandals began to fade, replaced by fresher gossip about another family’s indiscretions which Yvette could not be bothered by, especially since she knew how damaging it could be.