Page 13 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

"Of course, my lady," Millie said quietly. "Shall we begin?"

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The first thing Carol noticed as they left her chambers was how the servants reacted to her presence.

A young maid carrying linens saw her coming down the hallway and actually yelped, pressing herself against the wall and ducking her head so hard her chin nearly touched her chest.

"G-good morning, Your Grace," the girl stammered, not making eye contact.

Carol stopped, and the maid flinched.

"Good morning," Carol said gently. "What's your name?"

The maid's head shot up, her eyes wide with shock. "I... my name, Your Grace?"

"Yes. I'd like to know who you are."

"Annie, Your Grace," the girl whispered, looking like she might cry.

"It's nice to meet you, Annie." Carol smiled. "Have a good day."

She continued walking, leaving a very confused Annie behind. Beside her, Daisy and Millie were staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

"What?" Carol asked.

"You've never asked a servant's name before, my lady," Millie said carefully.

"Well, that was rude of me," Carol said. "I should know the people who work in my home."

"This is so BORING," Missy said from her shoulder. "Why are you being nice to everyone? Caroline never did this."

"She's being kind," Lumi corrected, beaming. "This is wonderful!"

They continued through the halls, and the pattern repeated. Servants scattered at the sight of her, pressing themselves against walls, ducking into doorways, practically trembling. Carol's heart sank a little more with each encounter.

She really had been terrible, hadn't she?

The dining room was elegant but clearly designed for formal occasions. Carol remembered—no, Original Caroline remembered—the disastrous dinner where she'd tried to poison Caspian's wine. They'd been seated at opposite ends of a long table, the distance between them as vast as the emotional gulf in their marriage.

"You rarely use this room," Daisy offered, noticing Carol's expression. "His Grace prefers to take his meals in his study or with his men."

"And I've been taking mine in my chambers," Carol finished.

"Yes, my lady."

Of course. Two people living in the same house but never actually seeing each other. That would have to change.

The kitchen was next, and Carol's stomach twisted with guilt as they approached.

The cook—a stout woman in her fifties with gray-streaked hair—looked up as they entered and immediately went pale.

"Your Grace," she said, curtsying quickly. "I wasn't expecting—is something wrong with your meals? I can prepare—"

"Nothing's wrong," Carol interrupted gently. The woman flinched anyway. Carol took a deep breath. "Actually, I came to apologize."

The kitchen went silent. Every servant in the room stopped what they were doing to stare.

"Apologize, Your Grace?" the cook repeated, clearly not believing her ears.