Chapter 31 #2
"Most people are idiots," Lady Caroline said. "You guard the northern border. You fight monsters. You protect the kingdom. Why would I fear someone who's literally keeping corrupted creatures from overrunning our lands?"
Because she made it sound so reasonable. So obvious.
As if his entire reputation, all the whispered fears and nervous glances, were simply the result of people not thinking things through properly.
"That's a remarkably practical perspective," Caspian said.
"I'm a remarkably practical person," Lady Caroline replied. "When I'm not being impulsive and speaking without thinking, according to my mother."
"I prefer the unfiltered version."
"That's dangerous. The unfiltered version says tremendously inappropriate things."
"Such as?" Caspian asked, genuinely curious what this refreshingly honest woman would consider inappropriate.
"Such as the fact that the rumors failed to mention you're extremely attractive," Lady Caroline said.
Then froze, her eyes widening as if she couldn't believe those words had just come out of her mouth.
Caspian missed a step.
Actually missed a step in a dance, something he hadn't done since he was twelve.
She thought he was attractive.
This brilliant, honest, fearless woman thought he was attractive.
"I mean—" Lady Caroline started, her cheeks flushing.
"Thank you," Caspian said, warmth flooding through him.
"You're welcome?" she managed, sounding uncertain.
They danced in silence for a moment, and Caspian was acutely aware of her hand in his, the way she fit perfectly in his arms, the faint scent of jasmine in her hair.
"You're different from what I expected," Caspian said finally.
"What did you expect?"
"Someone who would make polite small talk and look for the nearest exit."
"That sounds boring," Lady Caroline said. "I'm many things, but boring isn't one of them."
"No," Caspian agreed, his smile returning. "You're definitely not boring."
The waltz came to an end too soon. Caspian stepped back with proper formality, though part of him wanted to ask for another dance.
And another.
And another.
He offered his arm, and Lady Caroline took it as he led her back across the ballroom floor. Back to her parents and the careful social boundaries that separated a Duke from an Earl's daughter.
Back to reality.
"Thank you for the dance, Lady Caroline," Caspian said when they reached her parents.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she replied, her curtsy perfect despite the blush still coloring her cheeks.
Caspian bowed to her parents, offered appropriate pleasantries, then returned to his own family's side.
But he found himself looking back across the ballroom.
Watching her.
Lady Caroline was speaking with her parents, her mother clearly delivering some kind of lecture if her expression was any indication. But Lady Caroline wasn't paying attention.
She was scanning the crowd.
Looking for something. Someone.
Caspian followed her gaze and felt his chest tighten.
Earl Sinclair. Golden-haired, blue-eyed, the epitome of noble knighthood. Standing with a group of his fellow knights, laughing at something one of them said.
And the expression on Lady Caroline's face...
Caspian recognized it immediately.
Longing. Hope. The soft, yearning look of someone seeing the person they loved.
She turned away from her parents and moved through the crowd, her entire focus on Percival. As if their dance, their conversation, everything they'd just shared had already faded from her mind.
Because her heart was already taken.
Caspian stood there, watching her gravitate toward Percival like a moth to flame, and felt something hollow settle in his chest.
For a brief moment, he'd allowed himself to hope. To think that maybe, finally, someone had seen him as more than The Butcher. As more than a reputation and a title and a necessary evil.
But Lady Caroline Holloway's interest had been passing curiosity. Pleasant conversation to fill a dance.
Her heart belonged to someone else entirely.
"She's an interesting young woman," his mother said quietly, appearing at his side.
"Yes," Caspian said.
"You liked her."
It wasn't a question.
"It doesn't matter," Caspian said. "She's in love with Earl Sinclair."
His mother followed his gaze to where Lady Caroline had positioned herself near Percival's group, clearly hoping to catch his attention.
"Ah," his mother said softly. "I see."
"It's fine," Caspian said, his voice flat. "I'm used to it."
Used to being feared instead of loved. Used to people keeping their distance. Used to watching others find the connections he couldn't have.
"Caspian—"
"I'm going to the gardens," Caspian said. "I need air."
He left before his mother could protest, moving through the ballroom with long strides that made people scatter out of his path.
The gardens. Quiet. Away from the music and laughter and the sight of Lady Caroline trying to get Percival's attention.
Away from the brief, foolish hope that someone might actually want him for who he was rather than fearing him for what he could do.
Caspian stepped into the cool night air and took a deep breath.
Back to reality.
Back to being alone.
Back to being The Butcher of the North.