Chapter 6
Strategic Assessment of a Suspicious Wife
Caspian stared at the reports on his desk without actually seeing them.
His study was his sanctuary—dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a massive desk that had belonged to three generations of Vanthorn dukes before him. Maps of the northern territories covered one wall. Weapon displays lined another. Everything was organized, controlled, predictable.
Unlike his wife.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," Caspian said, already knowing who it would be.
Edwin Hawkridge strode in first, his captain's uniform slightly disheveled from evening training drills.
He was built like an ox, with dark hair, warm brown eyes, and a scar across his left eyebrow from a sparring accident when they were twelve.
Edwin had been Caspian's best friend since childhood, one of the few people who'd never feared him, and the only person permitted to offer blunt criticism without fear of reprisal.
"So," Edwin said, dropping into the chair across from Caspian's desk without waiting for permission. "I heard your wife joined you for dinner."
Sterling Whitmore followed at a more dignified pace.
He was older—in his early fifties—with silver-streaked hair, sharp grey eyes, and the bearing of a man who'd been managing ducal affairs for three decades.
He'd served Caspian's father before him and had become something between an advisor, a steward, and an occasionally exasperated parental figure.
"Your Grace," Sterling said, bowing slightly before taking the other chair. "I trust the meal was... pleasant?"
"Define pleasant," Caspian said.
Edwin leaned forward, grinning. "Did she try to poison you again? Slip something in the dessert this time?"
"No. She..." Caspian paused, trying to find words for what had just happened. "She asked about my day."
Both men stared at him.
"I'm sorry," Edwin said slowly. "She what?"
"She asked how my day was. What I did. How things went." Caspian picked up a letter opener and turned it over in his hands, a habit when he was thinking. "She made conversation."
"Conversation," Sterling repeated. "The Duchess Caroline. Made conversation. With you."
"Yes."
"The same duchess who spent the last two months locked in her chambers writing bitter letters to her family?" Sterling's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.
"The same duchess who tried to poison your wine three weeks ago?" Edwin added.
"Yes and yes."
Another beat of silence.
"Well," Edwin said finally. "She's definitely plotting something."
"Obviously," Caspian agreed.
Sterling steepled his fingers, his expression thoughtful. "What exactly did she say during this... conversation?"
Caspian set down the letter opener. "She thanked me for inviting her to dinner. She complimented the estate, the gardens, my training technique—"
"You're training?" Edwin interrupted, his grin widening. "How would she know about your training?"
Caspian gave him a flat look. "She was watching this morning. From behind the western hedge."
Edwin burst out laughing. "She was spying on you?"
"Observing," Caspian corrected dryly. "From a respectful distance. While concealed behind foliage. For approximately seven minutes."
"That's spying," Edwin said, still laughing. "Your wife was spying on you."
"It gets worse," Caspian continued. "When I noticed her, she fled."
"Fled?" Sterling looked intrigued despite himself.
"Walked quickly," Caspian amended. "With purpose. And a noticeable degree of embarrassment."
Edwin was practically wheezing now. "This is the best thing I've heard all week. The terrifying Duchess Caroline, who throws plates at servants and plots murders, was caught lurking in bushes watching you train and then ran away."
"I'm glad you're finding this amusing," Caspian said, though there was no real heat in his voice. Edwin's laughter was infectious, even when it was at his expense.
"Oh, I am. I really, really am." Edwin wiped his eyes. "So what did you do?"
"I told her at dinner that if she wanted to watch my training, the eastern viewing terrace had a better vantage point."
Both men stared at him again.
"You invited her to watch you train," Sterling said carefully. "After catching her spying on you."
"I was being practical," Caspian said. "The hedge blocks the view of the eastern formations. The terrace is better positioned."
Edwin's grin was absolutely shit-eating now. "You were flirting."
"I was not—" Caspian stopped. "That's absurd."
"You made a joke," Edwin said. "You, Caspian 'I Don't Understand Humor' Vanthorn, made an actual joke to your wife. That's flirting."
"It was a tactical suggestion," Caspian insisted.
"Tactical flirting," Edwin corrected. "The best kind."
Sterling cleared his throat, though his lips were twitching with barely suppressed amusement. "Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand. Your Grace, you said the Duchess thanked you and made conversation. What else?"
Caspian thought back to the dinner, to Caroline sitting across from him in that green dress that had made her amber eyes seem to glow in the candlelight. Not that he'd noticed. Much.
"She apologized," he said finally.
That sobered both men immediately.
"Apologized?" Sterling leaned forward. "For what, specifically?"
"Everything, essentially. The marriage, her behavior, the poison attempt—though that one was more of a... acknowledgment. She said the past is done and she wants to build a new life here. Make the best of the situation."
"That's—" Sterling paused, choosing his words carefully. "That's quite reasonable, actually."
"It's suspicious," Edwin countered. "Extremely suspicious. She's been nothing but hostile for two months, and suddenly she's apologetic and making conversation? She's planning something."
"That was my assessment as well," Caspian said.
"But?" Sterling prompted, because he knew Caspian well enough to hear the unspoken word.
Caspian frowned. "But she seemed... genuine. Or at least, not obviously deceptive."
"You can read a battlefield in seconds," Edwin said. "You can predict enemy movements three steps ahead. But Your Grace, with all due respect, you're terrible at reading people in social situations."
"I'm aware," Caspian said dryly.
"You once asked me if a woman batting her eyelashes at you had something in her eye," Edwin continued.
"She did have something in her eye."
"She was flirting with you."
"Then she should have said so directly," Caspian muttered.
Sterling coughed to hide what was definitely a laugh. "Your Grace, perhaps Edwin has a point. You're brilliant at tactics and strategy, but matters of the heart—or in this case, marital politics—are not your area of expertise."
"I don't need expertise in marital politics," Caspian said. "I need to determine if my wife is planning my assassination or something worse."
"What's worse than assassination?" Edwin asked.
"I don't know. But she's clever enough to think of something."
Sterling nodded slowly. "The Duchess does have a dual affinity. Mind and Water. Mind rare on its own, but together..." He trailed off meaningfully.
"She could be planning to manipulate me," Caspian finished. "Use her Mind affinity to influence my decisions or behavior."
"It would explain the sudden personality change," Edwin mused. "Practice run. See if you notice."
Caspian had considered that. He'd spent half of dinner analyzing Caroline's behavior for any sign of magical manipulation, any hint of compulsion or influence.
He'd found none.
But that didn't mean it wasn't there. She was supposed to be skilled, even if she'd wasted most of her potential chasing after Percival Sinclair instead of actually training.
"There's another possibility," Sterling said carefully. "One that might be worth considering."
"Which is?"
"That she's telling the truth."
Edwin snorted. "Come on, Sterling. You don't actually believe—"
"I believe that people can change when properly motivated," Sterling interrupted. "And the Duchess has been quite miserable since arriving here. Perhaps she genuinely has decided to make the best of things."
"Or perhaps," Caspian said, "she's realized that being openly hostile to me isn't working and has decided to try a different approach to achieve whatever her actual goals are."
"That's certainly possible," Sterling conceded.
"Which is why I recommend caution and observation.
But Your Grace—" He met Caspian's eyes. "You have an heir on the way.
A child who will need both parents, preferably ones who aren't actively trying to murder each other.
If there's any chance the Duchess is sincere in wanting to improve things, it might be worth... allowing that possibility."
Caspian was quiet for a moment. He thought about the child Caroline carried—his child, conceived in an accident of magic but his nonetheless. He'd been trying not to think about it too much, about the fact that in six months he would be a father.
He thought about Caroline sitting across from him at dinner, her cheeks flushed pink every time she looked at him. She'd blushed constantly throughout the meal, which had been... odd. And somewhat distracting.
He still didn't know why she'd been blushing.
"I need you both to keep close watch on her," Caspian said finally. "Edwin, have your men report any unusual activity. Where she goes, who she speaks to, any suspicious behavior."
"Already on it," Edwin confirmed. "Though I have to say, the most suspicious thing so far is her apologizing to half the household staff."
"Sterling, I want reports on any letters she sends or receives. Any requests for materials or supplies that seem unusual."
"Of course, Your Grace."
"And if she shows any signs of using her Mind affinity for manipulation..." Caspian's voice hardened. "I want to know immediately."
Both men nodded seriously.
"In the meantime," Caspian continued, "I'll continue to dine with her. Observe her behavior. See what she's planning."