Meanwhile, Esme walked beside him that afternoon, feeling a freedom so exhilarating it nearly overwhelmed her. It wasn’t the pleasant weather or even the silver-grey-eyed duke at her side that lifted her spirits. No, it was simply the joy of being outside the palace walls—a rare experience. Her previous excursions were brief, confined to a carriage, with only fleeting glimpses of the world beyond. But now, as she strolled with the duke toward their destination, she savored the bustling marketplace around her. Her eyes eagerly took in the sights: a teenage girl selling flowers, an old cobbler tinkering with worn shoes by the roadside, and an elderly woman arranging fresh fruit.

Esme glanced over at Ryan, who was dressed casually in dark trousers, a crisp white shirt, and a light grey jacket that brought out his eyes. She felt a swell of gratitude toward him for this simple gift of freedom.

“Is this to your liking?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I wasn’t sure you’d enjoy a promenade.”

“Yes, of course,” she replied quickly. “Why do you ask?”

He sighed, visibly relieved. “You had an odd expression, and I worried you were displeased.”

“Not at all. I’m just…surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised? Why? Have you never been here?”

Esme felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. “No,” she replied, almost shyly.

He frowned, puzzled. “This is the most popular place in the capital.”

Embarrassed by her lack of familiarity with something so ordinary, Esme felt her cheeks warm further. Sensing her discomfort, Ryan didn’t press the issue. Instead, he took her hand, leading her down a side street to a small, unassuming shop. Sandwiched between bright, bustling stores, it was dusty and plain by comparison. Esme looked to Ryan, who gave her an encouraging smile but said nothing, leading her inside.

To her surprise, she realized they were in a bakery. An elderly woman approached, greeting Ryan with surprising familiarity. He responded with a warm smile, as if her status meant nothing here. Then the woman turned to Esme, her eyes widening with delight.

“Oh, you’re a beauty, my lady!” she exclaimed, bowing with a surprising flair.

Startled, Esme glanced at Ryan, who only gave her that same peculiar, reassuring smile. She managed a warm reply. “Thank you…,” she hesitated, unsure how to address her.

“Edna,” the woman supplied with a grin.

Edna led them to a table, offering seats and pouring water from a worn jug on the scarred wooden surface. Once they were settled, Edna turned to Ryan with a playful glint in her eye.

“You’ve never brought a lady here before,” she teased. “Is this the future duchess?”

Ryan rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, a voice from the back called out.

“Is that our Duke?” the raspy voice asked.

“Yes, and he’s brought a woman!” Edna replied, conspiratorial delight in her tone.

“Finally!” the voice sounded jubilant. An old man appeared, thin and wiry, his tall frame draped in loose cotton clothing. Standing next to Edna, who was round and doughy, he looked almost comically lanky.

“My lady, I’m Winston, Edna’s husband of 39 years—soon to be 40.”

“Didn’t need to say that,” Edna muttered, elbowing him with a playful jab. She turned back to Esme, her eyes sparkling. “Hope we’re not boring you, milady.”

“Not at all,” Esme said a bit too quickly, earning a warm chuckle from the others. Though she had made a slight misstep, she didn’t feel mocked. In fact, she felt utterly at ease. “Congratulations on your upcoming anniversary,” she added, smiling.

Winston and Edna accepted her congratulations graciously before bustling back to the kitchen, their lively chatter trailing behind. Esme found herself watching them with a childlike curiosity, only to realize that Ryan was watching her. She glanced at him briefly before looking away, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again. There was something disarming in his gaze—something that made her feel both exposed and enchanted.