Page 152 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

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.

Chapter 32