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His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but he preferred it that way. It was a quick and effective way of shutting down further inquiry.

Fiona’s lips thinned, but she gave a small nod and stepped back.

“Fine, have it your way. But don’t let your pride ruin something good, brother. You’ll regret it.”

With that, she walked down the hallway, leaving Killian alone with his thoughts.

CHAPTER 29

Acouple more days had passed and things were still the same between the couple—no, perhaps it was even worse.

Killian felt as though he were trapped in an endless spiral of guilt and longing, incapable of pulling himself out. He saw Yvette every day, but it was as though she was out of reach every day, becoming a mirage of the woman he’d once held close.

She had thrown herself entirely into her duties as Fiona’s chaperone, her every moment dedicated to ensuring Fiona’s success for the Season. She was poised, attentive, and utterly untouchable.

Killian, on the other hand, had sunk into frustration. Every attempt to focus on his work crumbled beneath the weight of his thoughts. He missed her. Not just her presence, but everything about her. The sound of her laughter, the way her lips curved into a smile, the warmth of her body against his at night.

“This is madness,” he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair. He tugged at the roots as though the pain might ground him, but it was futile. He was losing himself to thoughts of her, and he hated it.

“This won’t do,” he muttered again, standing abruptly. He grabbed his jacket and strode out of the house, ignoring the curious glances of the staff as he left.

The gentlemen’s club was a place he rarely frequented, but tonight, it called to him like a sanctuary. He needed distraction, something to pull him away from the torment of his own mind.

The scent of cigars and aged whiskey mingled with the musky warmth of bodies crowded into the space. Low murmurs of conversation were paused by bursts of laughter and the occasional clink of glasses.

The dim lighting cast a sunset glow over the rich leather furniture, and the hum of a string quartet in the corner added to the overall vibe of the place.

Killian found a seat near the back of the room, where the shadows provided a semblance of privacy.

He ordered the strongest drink they had, his voice low and gruff. The waitress lingered longer than necessary, her friendly smile bordering on flirtation, but Killian barely noticed her; he was too focused on freeing his mind from thoughts of his most beautiful wife.

When the drink arrived, he downed the first glass in one go, wincing as the burn spread down his throat. The second glass followed quickly, and by the third, he was no closer to escaping the weight in his chest.

“Fancy seeing you here, Your Grace.”

The familiar voice jolted Killian from his thoughts. He raised his head, blinking as Edward approached his table with an amused smile.

“I thought you were enjoying such a wonderful marriage that I’d never find you in a place like this, at such a time,” Edward teased, pulling out a chair and settling in across from Killian.

Killian scoffed, his brogue thickening.

“And what about ye? Why are ye here at such a time?”

Edward laughed, signaling for a drink. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. You look as though the weight of the world is on your shoulders. What’s the matter? You’ve lost your wit.”

Killian exhaled sharply, his fingers running through his hair again.

“I would prefer not to talk about it.”

Edward raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, but you will. You always strike me as the sort of man who broods in silence until he’s cornered. Consider yourself cornered.”

Despite himself, Killian chuckled dryly.

“Ye’ve got it all figured out, have ye?”

“Indeed, I have. So, what’s troubling you? Is it Yvette?” Edward leaned forward, his tone softening. “I might be her brother, but I’m also your friend—or at least I was, until you tried to kill me. Speak freely, and I might just be your voice of reason.”