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"I wonder if we might have the shop to ourselves for a little while. I'll happily compensate you for any inconvenience," he said in a hushed tone, gesturing towards the other people.

The modiste's brows lifted in surprise, but she recovered instantly.

"Privacy for a duke and duchess is a small courtesy. I would be happy to oblige," she nodded.

Within moments, she had gently ushered out the other patrons. The ladies departed with curious glances, and all Alethea could do was offer them a timid smile in return.

"There was no need for that," she whispered to Oliver as the ladies cleared out.

Oliver scoffed, waving his hand in the air. "Of course there was. I want to make this entire experience as comfortable for you as possible."

Alethea pondered over it for a few moments. The idea of others watching her did make her uneasy. "Thank you for the consideration then," she muttered softly.

Oliver gave her a reassuring half-smile as the madame returned to them. "Now, let us choose the fabrics. Perhaps a silk? I believe that a pale blue would suit your complexion well."

The madame draped a pale blue fabric over Alethea's shoulder, observing it closely from behind her bespectacled eyes before swapping it out for an olive green swatch.

"Or perhaps this?"

Alethea gingerly touched fabric. It felt cool underneath her fingers, and more elegant than any of the fabrics that she had a chance to work with before in her life.

"It's beautiful," she admitted softly. "But it must be expensive."

Oliver stepped nearer, inspecting the fabric over her shoulder.

"We'll have that one," he says decisively, "and the pale blue as well. Do you have any other options?"

It dawned on Alethea that he did not even bother with asking for the price.

"Superb choices, Your Grace," the madame beamed, "Perhaps a rich velvet too. I have some options in burgundy."

Alethea's eyes widened. Was she hearing them correctly? Three gowns. She did not even want to begin to fathom what the costs would come out to.

"Your Grace, really, I think one would suffice," she tried to argue.

He met her gaze.

"Nonsense. A duchess needs a full wardrobe,'" he said, and then noticing the mildly horrified expression on her face, softened his tone. "Indulge me, Alethea. I promise it's no trouble at all."

"All right. You are too generous, truly."

"We'll take the velvet as well," Oliver turned to the madame. "And perhaps one gown in ivory silk for a special occasion. Or even two."

The madame looked elated. It must not be every day that a customer walked in and made such a large order.

"Lovely, lovely," she wrung her hands in front of her. "I assure you, we will make something quite spectacular for your Duchess." She motioned to her assistant. "Marie, let us get Her Grace's measurements and do a quick fitting for the bodice."

The assistant hastened, bringing over a measuring tape. She guided Alethea over to a small pedestal that was surrounded by mirrors. Oliver was only a few steps behind her, watching Alethea.

"Oh, you have a lovely figure," the madame exclaimed, overlooking her assistant who carefully taking various measurements at the bust, waist, and hips.

Alethea felt her cheeks redden, knowing that Oliver was in the room and overhearing everything. It felt strangely intimate to be measured for a fitting when her husband was only a few meters away.

As though reading her mind, Oliver moved back a few paces, giving her a respectful distance while still observing.

Madame Beaulieu wrapped the tape around Alethea's waist. "Yes, I can already imagine that the gowns will suit you perfectly."

Alethea flushed at the compliment. It felt undeserved, as no one before had said anything of the sort to her before. She caught Oliver's eyes in the mirror for an instant. He was still looking at her.

Her blush deepened.

"Now, if you could try this on…" Marie held up a half-finished muslin gown, a plain mock-up used for fitting. Alethea slipped behind a silk screen to quickly change out of her day dress. She re-emerged in the muslin gown, its back open and sides loosely pinned.

Oliver's gaze lifted to meet hers in the reflection.

"That shape is flattering," he commented, as the modiste and Marie adjusted the fit. "But be sure she has room to breathe, madame. I do not wish to have her laced too tight."

Once again, Alethea could sense a protectiveness in his tone. It was the same one she had heard when he had requested the other customers to be escorted out for her to have privacy.

"But of course, Your Grace," the madame laughed, "Comfort is key." She nodded to Marie, who knelt behind Alethea, tucking and pinning at the small of her back.

"Your Grace, if I may loosen your stays a touch," Marie said, noticing how stiffly Alethea was standing.

"Oh, right, yes," Alethea agreed. She reached behind to untie her stays slightly and ease the snugness a bit.

The muslin slipped down her shoulders a little as she moved, it exposed the upper expanse of her back.

Alethea immediately glanced to the mirror, where she could see how Oliver's eyes strayed to her back.

A lump formed on her throat, and she hastily covered her back. She had not meant for him to see. It was something that she hid from everyone. Three lines of scars across her back, healed but running along her shoulder blades.

When she looked at Oliver again, he seemed a bit ruffled. His hands had balled into fists, and he had a stoney expression on his face.

It was confirmation enough that he had indeed seen them. The ugly scars that she had tried so hard to hide. She looked at him expectantly, almost forgetting they had other company in the room. To her relief, he did not make a comment.

"Is all fine?" the madame noticed the change in Oliver's demeanor as well. "Do not worry, we shall not be too long now."

"I am fine, do need to rush because of me," Oliver said, schooling his face back into an expression of neutrality. "The fit looks good in the shoulders. Perhaps add a touch more room at the back for movement."

"Yes, Your Grace," the madame agreed, re-pinning a seam.

Alethea could sense the tightness in Oliver's tone. But before she had a chance to dwell on it more, Marie gently guided her back to the screen where she helped her out of the mock-up gown and back into her own dress.

"Now that the fittings are done," Alethea heard the madame said to the duke as she stepped out now, back in her original clothes. "Shall we finalize your order?"

"Yes, we will take the five gowns that we decided on." Oliver nodded. "On top of a premium paid to ensure that the delivery happens by tomorrow evening for the emerald gown."

"Tomorrow evening, Your Grace?" the madame looked up, "that might be a bit too expeditious."

"Call in all of your workers if you must," Oliver shrugged. "I am willing to pay the extra costs."

"Well, then," the madame pursed her lips, "We'll work through the night if we must. It will be delivered by tomorrow afternoon," she assures them.

Oliver nodded, satisfied. Alethea watched him as he arranged the payment details. Baffled was the word she would use to describe her reaction.

Granted, she had led a sheltered existence of most of her life.

But she had never seen someone get something that they wanted with such ease.

For Oliver to have his demands met like this, he must have been willing to pay a hefty fee.

She tried to peer over the bill but Oliver quickly snatched it out of sight.

"I expect the delivery to be on time," he said before nodding to Alethea towards the door.

"Of course, Your Grace," the madame rushed over to escort the both of them out of her establishment.

Alethea let herself be guided outside by Oliver, thankful to hold onto his arm for support for she found herself feeling more than a little light headed.

She did not speak again until they reached the carriage, taking the time to organize her scrambled thoughts. However, as soon as the carriage was in motion, Alethea exhaled loudly.

"That was… more extravagant than any shopping trip I've ever experienced," she said with a shaky laugh.

"You did well," Oliver smiled faintly. "Many would be overwhelmed, but you handled it with grace. As one would expect a duchess to."

"Oh, I was overwhelmed," she admitted in earnest, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Five gowns. I suspect that will be enough to last me through the year."

"No,"Oliver corrected her quickly. "These are just for this season. We shall return again when the weather changes."

Alethea flushed at his comment, staring down at her hands.

"Does that make you unhappy?" he asked when she did not immediately have anything to say.

"No," she said quickly, folding her arms across her chest.

"The frown on your face certainly seems to suggest so."

"No, I do not mean to be ungrateful," she said, solemnly. "It's just that it feels quite excessive."

"You still see yourself as a young maiden," he noted without judgment. "You must begin looking at yourself as a duchess. When you do, you will find that this is not excessive in the slightest."

"I suppose it will take me some time getting accustomed to all of it," she admitted.

He rested his forearms on his knees, leaning toward her slightly. "I have the means, and I enjoy seeing you well provided for. You deserve nice things, Alethea."

Her chest constricted at that. Once again, she was not used to hearing such sentiments.

"Thank you. It will be a wonder if I don't spill something on these gowns immediately," she joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. "With my luck, I'll step on the hem or slosh tea on myself at the first ball."

"If that happens, we'll simply order more gowns," Oliver returned her smile. "Perhaps I should have requested two of each as a precaution."

"Would that not be considered excessive, even by a duchess' standards?" her eyes widened but then she noticed the teasing smirk playing on his lips, "Oh now you are only teasing me."

"Perhaps a little," he admitted.

As a silence fell between them, Alethea found herself watching closely.

There was a kindness to him that emanated, even when he did not speak.

It contrasted the otherwise domineering image she had of him.

He truly was different from any man she's known.

The thought stirred something that she'd been meaning to ask.

Her hands twisted together in her lap as she searched for the right words.

"Your Grace… there's something I have been wondering."

"Yes?"

She took a steadying breath.

"All of this spending that you did today, without a second thought. Well, I could not imagine someone doing so with such ease. Certainly not myself."

"We have already gone over this," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I have the means, and it is no trouble at all to me."

"Yes, the means," she swallowed, feeling nervousness creep in her tone. "You surely have the means to provide for the many mouths that depend on you as is, and then even some left over."

"Plenty to go around," he studied, looking unsure.

"I hope you won't take this the wrong way," she began cautiously, "but… why don't you want children?"

The words slipped out before she could think better of them. She regretted it the moment his smile faltered.

"I only ask," she continued gently, "because, well, it isn't the money, surely. You could provide for a dozen without flinching."

"It is not about the money," he replied, taking his time to answer. "Besides, I already am occupied in the care of my siblings. I've spent the better part of my life making certain they were fed, clothed, educated, safe."

Alethea's fingers twisted more tightly in her lap.

He exhaled slowly, as though releasing a thought he'd held onto for far too long. "So for now… I focus on them."

For now.

The phrase fluttered through her. It was not never . Just not yet . Alethea felt a foolish hope rise in her chest. One that felt fragile, so she did not dare ask him for a confirmation.

They arrived back to the estate soon after. The footman opened the carriage door. Oliver stepped out first, then turned to help Alethea down. She placed her hand in his and descended, her heart tumbling over itself at the gesture.

"Thank you for today," she said softly as they reached the threshold. "You've been very kind to do all this for me."

"It's nothing any husband wouldn't do for his wife," he offered simply.

Alethea met his eyes, and with a burst of courage she scarcely understood, replied, "But not every wife is lucky enough to have you."

She did not know where the words had come from, but it was the honest truth. Women like herself did not deserve a life such as this, and never would she have expected one for herself.

Oliver looked momentarily taken aback but then raised her hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.

"You might be surprised," he murmured. "It is I who am fortunate."

Before she could summon a response, he opened the door and led her inside, leaving her flushed.