Page 82 of The Duke's Sinful Bride

“Very well, Duchess.”

He offered his hand, and she took it, her heart racing as he led her to the dance floor.

The moment his hand settled on her waist and their fingers intertwined, the world around them seemed to fade. The music swelled, and they began to move.

Yvette had never been so acutely aware of her husband’s presence. Every step, every turn, brought them closer together, their bodies brushing in ways that sent shivers down her spine.

Killian’s gaze never left hers, his dark eyes smoldering with something she couldn’t quite name.

“You’re staring, Your Grace,” she whispered, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“And you’re trembling,” he replied, his voice low and intimate.

Yvette swallowed hard, her cheeks heating. “Perhaps it’s the exertion.”

“Perhaps,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

As the dance continued, Yvette felt the tension between them build, electric and undeniable. When the final note played and they came to a stop, she realized her breathing was uneven.

Killian’s hand lingered on her waist for a moment longer than was necessary before he finally released her.

“Thank you for the dance,wife,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

Yvette nodded, unable to find her voice.

As they left the dance floor, the whispers started anew, but for the first time, Yvette didn’t care.

Instead, she made her way back across the ballroom, her heart still beating erratically from the intensity of her dance with Killian.

The whispers that had followed her all night still lingered in the air, but she forced herself to keep her head high and her steps steady. She spotted Fiona and Edward speaking in hushed tones near the refreshments table, their expressions animated, and she quickened her pace, seeking the comfort of their company.

But before she could reach them, a figure stepped into her path.

“Lady Yvette,” a smooth, mocking voice said, halting her in her tracks. Her breath hitched as she raised her gaze to meet none other than Lord Dunwick.

The sight of him made her stomach churn. His polished appearance—a perfectly tied cravat, gleaming shoes, and a smug smirk plastered on his face—was exactly as she remembered. He bowed with exaggerated courtesy, but the gleam in his eyes was anything but polite.

“Lord Dunwick, I believe you are to refer to me asYour Gracenow,” she replied stiffly, inclining her head. She had known this moment would come eventually, but she had hoped for more time to prepare—or to avoid it altogether.

“Your Grace.” He said it as though he was testing the word on his lips, “I must say, I was surprised to see you here tonight,” he drawled, his tone laced with feigned concern. “After all, I thought your time in the nunnery might have left you…indisposed.” His smirk widened, and Yvette’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

“Not at all,” she replied evenly, refusing to rise to his bait. “I came out of it just fine, as you can see.”

Dunwick’s gaze swept over her, his scrutiny invasive and unsettling. “So it seems,” he mused. “Though I must admit, I was rather surprised to hear of your marriage to the half-born duke, no less.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “Surely you could have done better, my dear?”

Yvette’s jaw tightened, but she maintained her composure. “My husband is an honorable man,” she said sharply, “which is more than I can say for some.”

Dunwick laughed, a rich, mocking sound that sent a shiver of anger down her spine.

“Always had the sharp tongue, didn’t ye, Yvette? I do miss that about ye.” He reached out as if to touch her arm, and she instinctively stepped back. His smirk deepened. “Come now, don’t be so shy. We were once very close, were we not?”

“I believe you are mistaken,” Yvette said coldly, her voice trembling only slightly. She glanced toward Fiona and Edward, silently willing one of them to notice her distress and intervene, but they were too engrossed in their conversation.

Dunwick, emboldened by her discomfort, took another step closer. “You wound me, Your Grace,” he said, his tone turning mockingly mournful. “I have always had a fondness for you, even when you cruelly abandoned me to the wolves of society.”

Her breath quickened, and her chest tightened as memories of that dark time flooded her mind. She felt trapped, overwhelmed by his proximity and the memories he evoked. How dare he talk about their time together when he ruined her.

She parted her lips to respond, but before she could summon a response, a familiar voice broke through the haze.

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