Caroline needed a very strong cup of tea.
Rosamund had been fighting her all afternoon, and would not simply go to the ball and have fun dancing (flirtatiously but angrily) with her Hot Enemy. And now she was running off in her masquerade dress, leaving behind the lovely buffet (Caroline had spent two hours with a cookbook and a glossary of medieval cooking terms to make it, and the stuffed peacock alone had a whole paragraph of luscious description) and the Spotify playlist entitled "A Waltz for the Ages."
The kettle whistled, and Caroline went in search of chocolate while the tea steeped. Did they have chocolate in medieval Europe? She'd have to look it up. Otherwise the scene where Captain Collins bought a bar of chocolate for Rosamund would have to be changed. Or perhaps not; after all, she wasn't strictly sticking to any one time period. Or to real countries, for that matter. And besides, what was the point of having a Hot Enemy if he didn't buy you chocolate?
She climbed the stairs to the office, balancing her mug and plate. The office was technically the corner of the bedroom where the desk could fit (if you didn't mind brushing against it on your way out), but it helped to call it an office. Or so she had heard. Something about getting in the proper mood for writing.
And now, she thought, to work out what would be going on back at the palace while Rosamund rushed off. Poor Captain Collins would be languishing somewhere — she'd have to get him out. She would have asked Rosamund to do it, but the woman had absolutely refused to hear sense. Could the captain have hidden a lockpick in his boots, perhaps? What did a gentleman wear to waltz in? It would have to be blue, of course, to bring out his eyes.
Caroline sighed happily over her tea. She hadn't had this much fun writing in ages.