Anna and her maid concealed themselves behind the old workshop door, dappled sunlight streaming through the dense leaves of the ancient trees casting playful shadows around them. The air was filled with the faint scent of blooming roses, carried by a gentle breeze that whispered through the garden.
Anna's heart raced beneath her crimson dress, the fabric rustling softly as she shifted her weight. Her dark eyes, filled with curiosity and fascination, remained fixed on Yeoman.
As he introduced himself, Anna's thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a sudden gust of wind. She couldn't help but think, 'So his name is Yeoman?' Her gaze remained transfixed on the mysterious young man, who not only saved her grandfather but also stood up for the less fortunate. There was something undeniably compelling about him, like a magnet pulling at her heart.
