Chapter 42
Cake Fixes Everything
Carol made her way back to the ballroom, her conversation with Lucinda already fading from her mind.
She'd done what she could. Warned her cousin. That was enough.
Now, she had more important priorities.
Cake.
The dessert table was magnificent—a long stretch of pristine white cloth laden with an impressive array of sweets. Tarts, pastries, petit fours, candied fruits, and most importantly, cakes.
So many cakes.
Carol's eyes lit up as she surveyed the selection.
Chocolate cake with rich ganache. Raspberry cake with delicate cream filling.
Vanilla cake decorated with edible flowers.
Tea-flavored cake with subtle floral notes.
Cinnamon cake dusted with sugar. Caramel cake drizzled with sauce.
Strawberry cake topped with fresh berries. Lemon cake with tangy frosting.
She was eating for two. This was practically a medical necessity.
Carol gathered a plate—then a second plate—then decided she needed a third plate to properly sample everything. She made her selections carefully, taking a slice of each flavor that called to her, then found a small table near the edge of the ballroom.
The perfect spot. Close enough to the desserts for easy access, but far enough from the dancing that she wouldn't be bothered.
She settled into her chair with a contented sigh and picked up her fork.
The chocolate cake was first. Rich, decadent, absolutely perfect.
Carol closed her eyes and made a small sound of pleasure.
Heaven. Pure heaven.
She was reaching for the raspberry cake when she became aware of whispers nearby.
Opening her eyes, Carol noticed several groups of nobles watching her. Not subtly, either. They were staring openly, leaning close to each other and murmuring behind fans and gloved hands.
Right. She and Lucinda had left the ballroom together. People had probably noticed.
They were waiting for drama. Expecting some kind of scene or scandal.
Carol took a deliberate bite of raspberry cake and ignored them.
Let them stare. She had cake.
The raspberry was divine—tart and sweet, with cream that melted on her tongue. She moved on to the vanilla next, appreciating its subtle elegance.
More whispers. More stares.
Carol continued eating, completely unbothered.
She was halfway through the tea-flavored cake—which had a surprisingly complex flavor profile—when a shadow fell across her table.
Carol looked up, fork halfway to her mouth.
Earl Sinclair stood beside her table, looking somewhat uncertain. His golden hair was perfectly styled, his formal attire immaculate, his expression carefully pleasant.
"Lady Caroline..." he started, then corrected himself. "I mean, Duchess Caroline. It's wonderful to see you. How have you—"
A presence materialized beside Percival.
One moment, Percival was speaking. The next, Caspian was simply there—appearing as if he'd stepped out of shadow itself, his silver hair catching the candlelight, his green eyes cold as winter ice.
He loomed over Percival, easily several inches taller, his expression absolutely glacial.
"Did you need something from my wife?" Caspian asked.
His voice was quiet. Polite, even.
And absolutely terrifying.
Percival went pale. He actually stumbled back a step, his carefully composed expression cracking into pure fear.
"N-no!" Percival stammered. "No, Your Grace! I was just— I wanted to— that is, I'll just—"
He was already backing away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.
"Good evening, Lord Sinclair," Caspian said, his tone still perfectly civil and somehow more menacing for it.
"G-good evening!" Percival managed, then turned and practically fled into the crowd.
The nobles who had been watching erupted into fresh whispers, fans fluttering with excitement.
Carol, who had been more focused on her cinnamon cake than on Percival's awkward attempt at conversation, looked up at her husband with a smile.
"That was fast," she observed. "Were you watching me?"
"Always," Caspian said, his expression softening immediately as he looked at her. The cold, menacing duke vanished, replaced by her husband who was clearly amused.
He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down with elegant grace, then placed two more plates on the table in front of her.
Carol's eyes widened. "More cake?"
"I noticed you hadn't tried the caramel or the strawberry yet," Caspian said. "And the lemon cake is supposed to be exceptional. I thought you might want to sample them as well."
Carol felt warmth bloom in her chest. "You brought me more cake."
"You're eating for two," Caspian said reasonably. "And you looked happy. I wanted to keep you happy."
"You're perfect," Carol said, immediately reaching for the strawberry cake. She cut off a generous bite and tasted it.
The flavor exploded on her tongue—sweet, fresh, with real strawberries layered between the cake.
"Oh," Carol breathed. "Oh, this one is amazing. Here, try it."
She cut off another piece and held the fork out to Caspian.
Her husband looked at the dessert with mild skepticism. "I'm not particularly fond of sweets."
"Please?" Carol asked. "For me?"
Caspian's expression softened further. He leaned forward and accepted the bite she offered.
Carol watched his face as he chewed, looking for his reaction.
"Well?" she asked.
"It's... good," Caspian admitted. "Sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. The strawberries are fresh."
"Right?" Carol said enthusiastically. She cut another piece for herself, then offered him the caramel cake. "Now try this one."
"Caroline—"
"Just one bite," Carol insisted.
Caspian accepted the second bite, and Carol was delighted to see his eyebrows raise slightly.
"That one is better," he said. "The caramel isn't too sweet."
"You have good taste," Carol said approvingly. She took her own bite of the caramel cake and sighed happily. "This is wonderful. All of it is wonderful."
She reached for the lemon cake next, trying a small piece. The tartness made her eyes widen with pleasure.
"Oh, you have to try this one," Carol said, immediately preparing another fork for Caspian.
"I'm noticing a pattern," Caspian observed, but he was smiling now—a genuine, warm smile that made him look younger and softer.
"The pattern is that I like sharing good things with you," Carol said, offering him the lemon cake.
Caspian accepted it, his eyes never leaving hers. "The lemon is quite good."
"Isn't it?" Carol said. She set down her fork and leaned closer to him. "Thank you. For the cakes. For chasing off Percival. For being here."
"Always," Caspian said simply.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his lips warm against her skin.
Carol giggled, her heart full of contentment and cake and love.
"People are staring," she whispered.
"Let them," Caspian said. He kissed her temple, then her forehead, then finally her lips—a brief but tender kiss that made her forget entirely about the watching nobles.
When he pulled back, his smile had widened slightly.
"Now," he said, gesturing to the array of cakes on the table. "Which one should we try next?"
Carol looked at the remaining options—still several flavors to sample—and felt a surge of pure joy.
Her husband, who didn't particularly like sweets, was sitting here with her, trying every cake she offered, smiling and relaxed and completely focused on her happiness.
"The tea-flavored one," Carol decided. "It's subtle, but really interesting. I think you'll like it."
"Then tea-flavored it is," Caspian said.
Carol cut two pieces, handing one fork to him and keeping one for herself.
They ate together, surrounded by the glittering ballroom and the curious stares of nobles, completely wrapped up in their own little world of cake and contentment.
Carol fed Caspian another bite of chocolate cake. He responded by offering her some of the vanilla. She laughed when he got a bit of frosting on his thumb and wiped it away with her napkin.
"You're tolerating sweets for me," Carol observed.
"I'm enjoying sweets with you," Caspian corrected. "There's a difference."
"You're perfect," Carol said again, leaning against his shoulder.
Caspian's arm came around her, careful of her belly, holding her close.
"So are you," he said quietly.
Carol smiled, took another bite of cake, and thought that this—right here, right now—was exactly where she wanted to be.
Not chasing after men who didn't want her. Not scheming or plotting or making herself miserable.
Just here. With her husband. Eating cake. Being happy.
Perfect.