Chapter 25 #2
They turned together, and Carol caught glimpses of the watching nobles. Some looked surprised. Others looked thoughtful. A few were even smiling.
Let them watch, Carol thought. Let them see that we're a real partnership.
The waltz came to an end, and Caspian bowed while Carol curtsied. The hall erupted in polite applause.
Other couples joined them on the floor for the next dance. Carol and Caspian returned to the head table as the first course was being served.
◆◆◆
Dinner was an elaborate affair.
The first course was a delicate soup—roasted parsnip with herbs and cream, served in fine porcelain bowls. Carol tasted it and made a small sound of appreciation.
Caspian glanced at her, amusement flickering in his eyes.
"What?" Carol asked.
"Nothing," he said. "You just... enjoy your food very enthusiastically."
"I'm eating for two," Carol said. "The baby needs nutrition."
"Of course," Caspian said, but she could see he was trying not to smile.
The second course arrived—roasted quail with winter vegetables and a rich wine sauce. Carol's eyes lit up.
"This looks amazing," she said, cutting into the tender meat.
It was amazing. Perfectly seasoned, cooked to perfection, the sauce complementing without overwhelming.
Carol may have made another small pleased sound.
"You're adorable," Caspian said quietly.
Carol felt her cheeks warm. "I'm a food enthusiast."
"I've noticed."
The third course was even better—venison with roasted root vegetables and a savory herb crust. Carol's fork was already moving before the server had fully stepped away from the table.
Genevieve was trying very hard not to laugh. Even Valerian looked faintly amused.
"The cook has outdone herself," Carol said, too focused on the excellent food to be embarrassed. "This is incredible."
"I'll pass along your compliments," Caspian said, warmth evident in his voice.
Between courses, nobles approached the head table to offer congratulations and make polite conversation. Carol greeted each one graciously, noting names and faces, filing away information.
After the main courses concluded, Caspian leaned close.
"I need to speak with some of the lords about border defenses," he said quietly. "Will you be all right if I step away?"
"Of course," Carol said. "Go. I'll be fine."
He stood, pressing a brief kiss to her hand before moving to join a group of male nobles near the fireplace.
Carol watched him go, then turned her attention to the ladies who were approaching her table.
Time to make some friends.
"Your Grace," a young woman with warm brown hair and kind eyes said, curtsying. "I'm Lady Cateline Frostmore. May I say, you look absolutely beautiful this evening."
"Thank you," Carol said, gesturing to the empty seats nearby. "Please, join me."
Lady Cateline sat, and another young woman followed—this one with striking red hair and an elegant bearing.
"Lady Adrienne Blackthorn," she introduced herself. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly, Your Grace."
Carol activated her scan function discreetly.
LADY CATELINE FROSTMORE - Earl's daughter.
Relationship Status: Neutral-Friendly.
No romantic interest in Caspian detected.
LADY ADRIENNE BLACKTHORN - Marquis's daughter.
Relationship Status: Neutral-Friendly.
No romantic interest in Caspian detected.
Good. These two were safe.
"The pleasure is mine," Carol said warmly. "Please, tell me about yourselves. I'm afraid I haven't spent much time in northern society."
"Your estate is quite remote," Cateline said diplomatically. "The Frostmarch territories are spread across vast distances."
"And you've been... adjusting to married life," Adrienne added, even more diplomatically.
Carol appreciated that they weren't directly mentioning her previous terrible behavior.
"I have," Carol said honestly. "It's been a significant adjustment. But I'm trying to be a better person. A better duchess."
"We can see that," Cateline said. "The changes you've made to Frostholme are already being discussed. The staff speak highly of you now."
"That means a great deal," Carol said. "The staff deserved better than how I treated them before."
More ladies joined their group—Lady Isolde Coldwater, who seemed shy but friendly, and several others whose fathers held estates in the northern territories.
Carol scanned each one discreetly, noting who had crushes on Caspian and who didn't.
The conversation flowed easily. They discussed fashion, the mild spring weather, their families, their interests. Carol found herself genuinely enjoying their company.
These women weren't judging her harshly. They were giving her a chance.
Then Carol noticed a young woman across the hall, watching Caspian with barely concealed longing.
LADY MILLICENT IRONWOOD - Earl's daughter.
SECRET ADMIRER STATUS: ACTIVE.
Emotional State: Conflicted, jealous.
Alcohol consumption: ELEVATED.
Carol's stomach sank slightly. Lady Millicent. The wine-thrower.
She was beautiful—honey-blonde hair, delicate features, the kind of ethereal prettiness that made people want to protect her. She wore a pale pink gown that emphasized her youth and innocence.
And she was drinking wine like it was water, her eyes never leaving Caspian.
"Is everything all right, Your Grace?" Cateline asked, noticing Carol's attention had wandered.
"Yes," Carol said, forcing a smile. "Just... observing."
She turned back to the conversation, but kept one eye on Lady Millicent.
The fourth course arrived—an array of cheeses, fruits, and nuts arranged artistically on silver platters.
Carol selected a piece of sharp cheese and some fresh strawberries, listening as Adrienne told a funny story about her younger brother's attempt to train a hunting falcon.
Then the fifth course—those honey cakes Carol loved, along with delicate pastries, sugared fruits, and small tarts bursting with flavor.
Carol's eyes lit up, and she didn't even try to hide her enthusiasm.
"These are incredible," she said, biting into a honey cake.
Cateline laughed. "You really do love your desserts."
"Unashamedly," Carol confirmed, reaching for a fruit tart.
The ladies around her were smiling now, genuinely warm. This was going well. Better than well.
Maybe the quest was wrong. Maybe there wouldn't be a scene. Maybe—
A loud voice cut through the pleasant conversation.
"Well, well, well," the voice slurred slightly, carrying across the suddenly quieting hall. "If it isn't the Duchess."
Carol's stomach dropped.
Lady Millicent Ironwood stood from her table, swaying slightly, a wine glass clutched in her hand.
Every conversation in the hall died.
Eighty pairs of eyes turned to watch.
And Carol knew, with absolute certainty, that the game system had been right after all.