Chapter 25
The Wedding Banquet
The morning of the banquet arrived with spring sunlight streaming through Carol's chamber windows.
She sat at her vanity while Daisy and Millie worked on her hair, their practiced hands weaving intricate braids and curls.
"You're going to be beautiful, my lady," Daisy said, her expressive face bright with excitement. "The most beautiful duchess in all the northern territories."
"The only duchess in the northern territories," Carol pointed out.
"Still counts," Millie said quietly, securing another pin with precise movements. "There. The foundation is set. Now for the finishing touches."
Carol watched in the mirror as her ladies-in-waiting transformed her appearance. The deep blue gown with silver embroidery hung ready on its stand, waiting. Her jewelry—sapphires and diamonds that had been in the Vanthorn family for generations—sat in their velvet cases.
"Are you nervous, my lady?" Daisy asked, adding a delicate silver hair ornament.
"Terrified," Carol admitted honestly.
Both maids paused, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
"You'll be wonderful," Millie said with quiet conviction. "You've changed so much these past weeks. Everyone can see it."
"The northern nobles don't know that," Carol said. "They only know my reputation."
"Then you'll show them the truth," Daisy said firmly. "You'll show them who you really are."
Carol hoped they were right.
After another thirty minutes, her hair was complete—an elegant upswept style with carefully placed curls framing her face and the silver ornament catching the light.
"Perfect," Daisy declared. "Now for the gown."
They helped her into the dress carefully, the rich blue fabric settling perfectly over her frame. The silver embroidery caught the light with every movement, creating an almost ethereal effect.
Millie fastened the buttons while Daisy adjusted the drape of the skirt.
"There," Millie said, stepping back. "You look like a winter queen."
Carol studied herself in the full-length mirror. The gown was stunning. The color made her skin glow and her eyes seem brighter. The cut was elegant without being ostentatious, refined without trying too hard.
She looked like a duchess.
"The jewelry, my lady?" Daisy asked.
"Yes, please."
They helped her with the sapphire necklace, matching earrings, and several delicate bracelets. Each piece was exquisite, clearly worth more than most people earned in a year.
"You're ready," Millie said softly. "Is there anything else you need?"
"No, thank you both," Carol said. "You've done beautifully. Please, go prepare yourselves for the evening. I know you'll be attending as well."
Both maids curtsied and left, closing the door behind them.
Carol waited until their footsteps faded completely.
Then she opened her virtual inventory.
The stain-resistant potion appeared in her hand—a small crystal vial filled with shimmering powder. Two hundred and fifty gold crowns for this. It had better work.
Carol uncorked the stopper and carefully sprinkled the powder over her gown.
For a moment, the fabric shimmered with an iridescent glow. Then the light faded, and the dress looked completely normal again.
"Well," Carol said to the empty room. "I guess we'll find out if it works."
She corked the vial and returned it to her inventory. The interface confirmed: STAIN-RESISTANT POTION - 7 HOURS, 59 MINUTES REMAINING.
Good. The banquet would last maybe four or five hours. She'd have plenty of protection.
Carol took a deep breath, smoothing her skirts.
Time to say goodbye to her pets.
Mochi and Shadow were curled up together on their cushions, watching her with intelligent eyes.
"I'm sorry you can't come," Carol said, kneeling carefully to avoid wrinkling her gown. "But you'd still frighten the guests."
Shadow whined softly, his tail drooping.
"I know, I know," Carol said, scratching behind his ears. "You're nearly twice the size you were when we met. And Mochi, you're nearly three feet long. People would panic."
Mochi meowed, butting his head against her hand.
"I'll tell you all about it when I get back," Carol promised. "And tomorrow we'll play all day. But tonight, you both need to stay here and be good."
Shadow licked her hand. Mochi purred.
"Good boys," Carol whispered, kissing both their heads. "I love you."
She stood, straightening her gown, and took one last look in the mirror.
Ready or not, it was time.
◆◆◆
Caspian was waiting for her in the corridor outside her chambers.
Carol stopped when she saw him, her breath catching.
He looked magnificent. His formal attire was all black and silver—perfectly tailored, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean frame. His silver hair was pulled back, revealing the strong lines of his face. And there, resting against his chest, the emerald pendant gleamed softly.
He was wearing her gift.
"Caroline," Caspian said, his voice quiet. "You look..."
"Like a duchess?" Carol asked, trying for levity.
"Like my wife," Caspian corrected, and the warmth in his eyes made her heart race.
He offered his arm, and Carol took it, feeling the solid strength beneath the fabric.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," Carol admitted. "But let's do this anyway."
They walked together toward the family receiving room where Caspian's parents were waiting.
The Duke and Duchess of Winterhelm stood near the fireplace, both dressed in formal attire befitting their status. Valerian's expression was as severe as ever, but Genevieve's face lit up when she saw them.
"Oh, Caroline," Genevieve said warmly. "You look absolutely beautiful."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Carol said. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she stepped forward. "Before we go out there, I need to say something. To both of you."
Valerian's eyebrows rose slightly. Genevieve looked curious but encouraging.
Carol took a breath. "I owe you both an apology.
For the past two months. For my behavior, my cruelty, my complete disregard for this family and everything you've done for me.
" She met their eyes directly. "I was terrible.
To your son, to your staff, to everyone.
And I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I can't undo the past, but I'm trying to do better now. "
Silence fell.
Then Genevieve stepped forward and pulled Carol into an embrace.
"Oh, my dear girl," she said softly. "We can see how hard you're trying. And we're so proud of you for it."
Carol felt tears prick her eyes but blinked them back. Crying would ruin Daisy's careful work with her cosmetics.
When Genevieve released her, Valerian was studying Carol with an unreadable expression.
"You've changed," he said finally. "Significantly."
"I've tried to," Carol said.
"It shows," Valerian said. Then, to Carol's surprise, his stern expression softened slightly. "My son is fortunate to have you. And I'm glad you're making him happy."
Carol felt warmth bloom in her chest. Coming from the cold Duke Winterhelm, that was high praise indeed.
"We should go," Caspian said quietly, his hand finding Carol's. "The guests are assembled."
Together, the four of them made their way to the great hall.
◆◆◆
The herald's voice rang out clear and strong as the massive doors opened.
"His Grace, Caspian Vanthorn, Duke of Vanthorn, and Her Grace, Caroline Vanthorn, Duchess of Vanthorn! May all present join in celebration of their blessed union!"
Carol and Caspian stepped through the doors together.
The great hall had been completely transformed.
Rich tapestries in deep reds and golds hung along the walls, warming the austere stone.
Lanterns and candles created pools of golden light throughout the space.
Fresh flowers adorned every available surface.
The long tables were set with fine linens, gleaming silverware, and crystal glasses that caught the candlelight.
And filling the hall were eighty guests—northern nobles and their families, all dressed in their finest, all turning to watch as Carol and Caspian entered.
The scrutiny was immediate and intense.
Carol felt every eye on her, assessing, judging, comparing her to the terrible person she'd been before.
But she lifted her chin and walked beside Caspian with as much grace as she could muster.
They processed to the head table where Valerian and Genevieve were already seated. Caspian held Carol's chair for her, and she sat with careful dignity.
The herald announced the other guests, and people took their seats according to rank and protocol that Sterling had arranged so meticulously.
Carol scanned the crowd, looking for potential threats.
Her game interface helpfully highlighted several young ladies with glowing markers.
LADY GENEVRA ASHENMERE - SECRET ADMIRER STATUS: ACTIVE
LADY OCTAVIA WINTERMERE - SECRET ADMIRER STATUS: ACTIVE
LADY MILLICENT IRONWOOD - SECRET ADMIRER STATUS: ACTIVE
LADY ELSPETH RAVENHILL - SECRET ADMIRER STATUS: ACTIVE
Carol's eye twitched. Four? Four ladies were secretly crushing on her husband?
She glanced at Caspian, who was surveying the hall with his usual composed expression, completely oblivious to the admiring looks being directed his way.
Of course he was.
Carol dismissed the interface before she could start laughing inappropriately. She'd figure out which one was the wine-thrower later.
For now, she had a waltz to open.
◆◆◆
The musicians began playing, and Caspian rose, offering his hand.
"Shall we?" he asked.
Carol took his hand and let him lead her to the center of the hall.
The music swelled—a traditional waltz, elegant and romantic.
Caspian's hand found her waist. Carol's hand rested on his shoulder. And they began to move.
All those evenings of practice paid off immediately. They moved together flawlessly, each step perfectly timed, each turn executed with grace.
Carol was acutely aware of everyone watching them. But as Caspian pulled her slightly closer, as his green eyes met hers, the rest of the room seemed to fade away.
"You're doing beautifully," he murmured.
"So are you," Carol said. "Very handsome. Very ducal."
His lips twitched. "Ducal?"
"It's a word now. I've decided."
"Of course you have."