Page 193 of The Villainess Chose Naps Over Death Flags

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."