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Yvette and Fiona strolled along the wide gravel paths, enjoying the soft weather, and little sunshine that peeked through the clouds.

“Are you alright, Yvette?” Fiona asked her when they’d settled by the lake, overlooking other nobles who were busy with different activities.

“I am,” Yvette nodded her head firmly, but it would seem her attempts to appear happy were futile.

Fiona considered her for a few seconds, and as though the younger woman could tell that Yvette was trying her very best to not dwell on whatever troubled her, she nodded.

“Perhaps it’s nothing then.”

Yvette was overly grateful to Fiona at that moment, because she wasn’t sure she could explain the issues she was having with her brother. Fiona was also an unmarried lady, and Yvette doubted she’d have any advice for her.

“Yvette?” a familiar voice called, drawing her attention. Turning, Yvette’s eyes widened in surprise as she saw her old friend Gemma and her husband, the Duke of Blackridge, approaching.

“Gemma!” Yvette exclaimed, her lips curving into a genuine smile for the first time in days.

Gemma was as radiant as ever, her luscious air framing a face full of warmth and mischief. Her husband, the duke, stood beside her, tall and composed, with an easy air of authority.

“It really is you!” Gemma said, her voice tinged with delight. “I thought I saw you from a distance, but I couldn’t believe it. The last time we saw each other, you were still at St. Catherine’s.”

Yvette blushed lightly, memories of their time at the nunnery flooding back. “It’s been years, hasn’t it? And yes, a lot has changed since then.”

Gemma’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“You’re married now. To the Duke of Braemore, no less! I’d heard rumors but wasn’t sure it was true. You must tell me everything,Duchess.”

Yvette colored at the title. It had been a few months, and even though Maisie called her that all the time, she still wasn’t used to hearing it from other people.

Duchess.

“It’s a long story,” Yvette replied, glancing at Fiona, who stood beside her with a polite smile.

“But suffice it to say, I’m glad I left St. Catherine’s.”

The duke chuckled.

“I imagine life with the Duke of Braemore is far more interesting than what you experienced at the nunnery. Though I must say I’m surprised that you left at all. You always expressed that you never would.”

Yvette’s expression shifted to one of deep thought.

“I learned a valuable lesson, and that is to never say never,” Yvette said as a lighthearted jest, which was received in good faith by the little group.

“Indeed. You were always so good-hearted, Yvette, and I always hoped you would leave. I’m glad your duke whisked you away!” Gemma said, and Yvette colored instantly at the insinuation. “I did hear you’d escaped and never returned.”

Yvette nodded her head.

“I was visited by the old nuns, claiming they had come to take me back to St. Catherine’s. One threat from my husband sent them scurrying away, and I haven’t heard from them since,” Yvette explained.

“So it is safe to say that you are free. Which is a good thing, after all the mistreatment you endured there.”

Yvette hesitated, the shadow of old wounds flickering across her face, but she nodded.

“I was excited when the Duchess of Islington became its patron. Things improved. Though, there are… some bad apples.”

Gemma’s husband, Frederick, frowned deeply.

“No woman should have to endure such treatment. Perhaps the Duchess of Islington should make the nunnery a safe place for young girls.”

Yvette nodded. “I agree. She has done wonderful things for St. Catherine’s. If anyone can root out the remaining issues, it’s her.”