Christopher tilted his head slightly, studying her face — the way her eyes widened just enough to betray alarm before she could mask it.
Her heartbeat was almost visible in the pulse at her throat.
Ah, he thought. So there it is.
Fear.
Not the kind born of guilt, but the sharper kind — fear of being seen.
He could almost hear the unspoken words between them.
Whatever secret she was guarding, it wasn't trivial. And though he didn't yet know what it was, her reaction was reward enough.
He smiled faintly, choosing not to press further. "You misunderstand me, Lady Serena," he said, his tone lighter now, almost teasing. "I'm not interrogating you. I only wondered if all this"—his gesture encompassed her poise, her return to society, the way she met every gaze unflinching—"was your way of reclaiming the world's affection."
Serena blinked, the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding leaving her chest in a quiet exhale.
So that was what he thought.
