Page 158 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

Duke Vanthorn strode into the training grounds, his silver hair still slightly damp from a recent bath, his expression utterly relaxed in a way none of them had seen before.

Edwin stepped forward immediately, his face arranged in an expression of exaggerated concern.

"Your Grace!" he exclaimed, loud enough for everyone to hear. "We were about to send a search party! We thought Blightspawn had invaded the estate! That corrupted creatures had breached the walls and dragged you from your bed in the night!"

Caspian stopped, one eyebrow rising. "Edwin."

"Truly, we were moments away from mobilizing," Edwin continued, warming to his performance. "Perhaps even alerting your father. After all, you've never—not once in eleven years of service—missed morning training."

"I'm aware," Caspian said dryly.

"So naturally, we assumed the worst," Edwin said. "A catastrophic emergency. A crisis of unprecedented proportions. Perhaps even—"

"Are you finished?" Caspian interrupted.

"Almost," Edwin said, then shifted to a more teasing tone. "Where have you been, Your Grace? Did you perhaps get lost between your chambers and the training grounds? Should we post additional signs? Mark a clearer path?"

Several soldiers coughed to hide their laughter.

Caspian's expression remained perfectly composed. "Are you quite done?"

"Oh, wait," Edwin said, his grin becoming absolutely wicked. "I've just remembered. The servants mentioned that the Duchess is missing from her chambers this morning. How strange. And several guards reported seeing you carrying Her Grace to YOUR bedchamber last night. How very curious."

The soldiers weren't even trying to hide their amusement now.

"And," Edwin continued, "the kitchen staff mentioned they brought breakfast to YOUR room this morning. For two people. What an interesting coincidence."

Caspian's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.

"So," Edwin concluded, "would you like to revise your story about being delayed by Blightspawn?"

Behind them, soldiers were frantically exchanging coins, trying to be discreet and failing miserably.

"I told you!" one hissed. "Before the month was out! Pay up!"

"The Duchess actually tamed The Butcher," another muttered in awe.

"He's NEVER been late," a third said. "Not once. Not for anything. And now—"

"I said she'd have him wrapped around her finger within weeks," someone else crowed. "You all doubted me!"

Caspian looked past Edwin to where his men were conducting their barely-concealed betting settlement.

"You bet on when I'd be late to training?" he asked.

Immediate silence.

Several soldiers suddenly found the ground very interesting. A few others attempted to look innocent and failed spectacularly.

"Actually, Your Grace," one brave soul admitted, "we bet on when the Duchess would successfully distract you enough to make you late."

"Or," another soldier added, "when you'd stop being able to leave your wife's bed in the mornings."

"That's the same bet, Garrett," someone else said.

"No it's not. There's nuance—"

"Gentlemen," Caspian said, and everyone immediately fell silent.