The door shut behind Killian with a heavy click, leaving behind a vacuum of tension thick enough to choke on. My heart pounded like a drumline in my chest. My fingers were still trembling as I turned back toward the mirror, staring into the unfamiliar face. Lady Evelyn Wrenford. That name now belonged to me. And somehow, I have just been thrust into a marriage with the most dangerous man in this book a man I had once fantasized about while curled up with my favorite spicy ramen and wine, and who now looked at me like I was a threat wrapped in silk.
"I have to get a grip," I muttered to myself, pressing a hand to my chest. "Play along. Don't die. Survive long enough to figure out what the hell is happening."
A soft knock startled me.
"Enter," I called, trying to sound more duchess and less disaster. A maid stepped in, eyes lowered, arms folded neatly over her apron. "Shall I prepare your attire for morning tea, Your Grace? The household is expecting you."
Your Grace. That would never stop being weird.
I nodded slowly. "Yes. Something elegant but… less stab-me-in-a-corset than yesterday."
She blinked, clearly confused.
I cleared my throat. "Never mind. Just whatever a duchess wears to meet a viper in heels."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. Carry on."
Thirty minutes later, I descended the grand staircase in a lavender gown with lace sleeves and a modest neckline just enough royal flair to be respectable, not scandalous. My hair had been twisted into an elaborate braid that made my neck ache from how tightly it was pinned. And I can barely turn my neck. The marble floors gleamed beneath my heels as I made my way toward the tea salon. And there she was.
Lady Arabella Raventon.
Sitting on a velvet chaise as if it had been crafted solely for her, she sipped her tea with elegance so precise it looked rehearsed. Her auburn hair was perfectly coiled. Her emerald gown shimmered like a snake shedding its skin. Her posture screamed nobility.
Her eyes, however, were pure judgment.
"Evelyn," she said, setting her teacup down without rising. "You look well. Radiant, even. Marriage seems to agree with you."
Play nice, Emma. Play duchess. I said to myself
I smiled and crossed the room. "Arabella. How kind of you to visit so soon after the wedding."
"I wouldn't dream of missing such a scandal," she replied smoothly. "The entire empire is already buzzing. The elusive Duke of Raventon, tamed by the Wrenford girl. Who would have thought?"
"Certainly not me," I muttered, before adding quickly, "I mean who could have imagined?"
Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"You must be exhausted," she said, pouring me tea. "Running straight from heartbreak into marriage. After Lord Pennington, I wasn't sure you'd recover."
I had no idea who Lord Pennington was.
"Water under the bridge," I said, waving a hand with forced nonchalance. "Besides, Killian is… different."
She arched a brow. "Is he?"
"Yes," I said firmly, accepting the tea. "Surprisingly attentive. Passionate. Possessive, even."
God, why was I still talking?
Arabella's eyes sparkled with amusement. "How romantic. Though Killian has always struck me as a man who prefers battlefields to bedrooms."
"You'd be surprised what a man like that does behind closed doors," I said sweetly, taking a sip of the tea and nearly gagging on the floral bitterness. "He's not cold, Arabella. Just misunderstood."
She tilted her head, smile sharpening. "Then I'm sure the two of you will be very happy together."
Right. As happy as a fish in a frying pan trying to jump into the fire. After she left, I wandered the halls like a ghost in someone else's castle. Killian hadn't returned. The staff kept bowing. Rooms stretched endlessly in every direction, each filled with paintings and books and glittering chandeliers. Somewhere between the third library and an actual music conservatory, I stumbled into a small courtyard. Finally, some air.
I sank onto a stone bench beneath a pear tree and exhaled. The sunlight warmed my skin, and for a moment, I pretended I wasn't trapped in a fictional world where women like me well, Evelyn were nothing more than plot devices.
In the book, Evelyn dies in chapter five. I'd bought myself some time… but not much. Unless I changed the plot. Unless I changed her.
"I was looking for you," came a voice behind me.
I jumped.
Killian stood beneath the archway, his hands clasped behind his back. The shadows made him look taller. More dangerous. His face unreadable as ever.
"You don't strike me as the type to hide," he said, approaching.
"I'm not hiding," I lied. "I'm… adjusting."
"Is that what you call ignoring your new title, skipping your place beside me at tea, and vanishing before breakfast?"
I winced. "I didn't realize duchesses had attendance sheets."
"Duchesses attend duties," he said simply. "You wanted this marriage. Act like it."
I stood slowly, brushing down the folds of my gown.
"Fine. Let's talk about duties, then." I met his gaze. "What exactly do you want from me, Killian? I know I barged into your life like a storm, but I'm here now. So tell me what's my role?"
He stepped closer until there was barely a breath between us.
"You' will smile when required," he said. "Attend dinners, manage the household, and appear beside me at court. You'll play the part of the dutiful wife. And in return, I'll protect your name."
"From what?"
"From everyone," he said darkly. "The nobles who think you're unworthy. The vultures who smell weakness. And most importantly from me."
Chills ran down my spine.
"Why would I need protection from you?" I whispered.
He looked down at me with something almost like sorrow.
"Because, Duchess… I ruin everything I touch. With that he walked off again.
"Wait, what do you mean by that?" I asked but he was already gone. " oh please save me from here. Maybe I should look for somewhere to hit my head again and I might just get out of this novel.
That night, I dined with him for the first time as husband and wife. The dining room was long and candlelit. A massive oak table separated us like a battlefield. The servants moved quietly, pouring wine and delivering silver trays of roasted duck, honey-glazed carrots, and soft buttered bread. I couldn't taste any of it. Killian barely spoke. He didn't ask questions. Didn't comment on my sudden personality shift. He just watched. And I pretended I wasn't terrified.
Halfway through the meal, I finally broke the silence.
"So… are we sleeping in the same room tonight?"
His knife paused mid-cut. "Do you want to?"
I shrugged, heart thudding. "Does it matter what I want?"
He set his fork down. "You are full of surprises, Evelyn. But if you want more of what happened last night, you are welcome to sleep in my bedchamber he said.
"No thanks I said.
"You don't have a choice now, we are married and we will sleep in the bed he said. We ate the rest of the dinner in silence.
After dinner I walked inside the bedroom, I stood near the hearth while a maid helped me undress. My body felt foreign, unfamiliar. The corset left angry red lines across my ribs. The silk stuck to my back with sweat. But I didn't complain. Because the moment the maid left, I will be alone with the Duke. Sure enough, just as I slipped into a lace nightgown and drew a robe around myself, the door creaked open. Killian stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. He wore only black trousers, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the curve of his chest and a scar that ran along his collarbone. His eyes met mine across the firelight.
Neither of us spoke. Then slowly, deliberately, he crossed the room, stopped in front of me, and reached for my face. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I don't trust you," he said softly.
"Fair enough," I whispered.
"But I'm curious."
And then he kissed me. This time, it wasn't rough. It wasn't hurried. It was warm and slow, coaxing rather than demanding. My breath caught. My hands trembled as they gripped his shirt.
"Tell me what changed you," he murmured against my lips.
You wouldn't believe me if I did. Instead, I whispered, "because I love"
His hands slipped to my waist. "I don't believe you."