Chapter 78: A Formal Invitation
"Lady Hannah?"
She froze, then turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat.
Standing a few feet away was Jonathan, neatly dressed in the clean, proper manner of a noble-born young man — his coat tailored, his hair tidy, every small detail of his bearing showing the quiet polish of good upbringing.
But the second he spoke, the contrast bit through immediately: his tone was clumsy, flustered, and shy, nothing like the calm dignity his appearance suggested.
He looked every inch the noble he was… and yet still carried that same bumbling, earnest warmth she remembered.
The late-afternoon breeze stirred the hem of Jonathan's fine coat, carrying the sweet scent of baked bread from the stall beside them, and for a heartbeat, Hannah could almost pretend this was just any ordinary street meeting, not one tangled in bloodlines and old ties.
Jonathan lit up, stepping forward, oblivious to the tense stillness coming from the man beside him.
