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" T onight is family night."

The duke made the announcement to Alethea after breakfast. She only stared back at him, her hands resting on her hips.

"Family night?" she repeated, eyeing him carefully.

"Yes," he said, looking surprised at her ignorance. "I would have assumed that the girls would have told you already. They quite like it. It's a tradition here in our family."

Alethea waited for him to continue. She had not properly spoken to him since the ball, which had been a few days ago now. Admittedly though, he had scarcely left her mind.

"Family night," he continued on, entirely unbothered as usual. "It's a tradition in this house. The first Thursday of every month. Mandatory attendance by everyone."

"I was not informed," Alethea said, biting down on her lip. The idea did seem quite wholesome, at least from the name.

"Well, you are now." He paused, then added after a moment, "You'll need a costume."

"A costume?" Alethea was not sure if she had heard him correctly.

"A costume," he nodded as though it was the most normal request to make. "The more ludicrous, the better. Absurdity is highly encouraged. In fact, it's the only rule."

Alethea stared at him, utterly unsure whether this was some elaborate joke.

"You wish me to dress up. For... a domestic masquerade? That only the family members of the estate attend?"

"I wish no such thing," he replied, shrugging. "It's simply the law. One I myself established, therefore making it very difficult to contest."

"I see," she said, though she very much did not. "And what am I supposed to wear?"

"I am sure you have a rather active imagination, Duchess," Oliver said, already walking away from her. "I fully expect you to utilize it to the best of its abilities."

Alethea opened her mouth, closed it again, then said dryly, "You cannot possibly expect me to join in wearing a costume."

"You are one of us now, are you not?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, turning back to look at her.

She could not argue with that.

"I had rather imagined that being a duchess came with different expectations," she said instead.

"You'll find we do things differently here. Don't be a bore."

And with that, he walked off view finally, leaving her to grapple with this new concept that he had introduced to her. Now where was she meant to get a costume?

Later in the night, she found herself marching over to the parlor.

She paused in the doorway, her lips parting in astonishment.

The space had been transformed. Chairs and tables were pushed back against the walls to clear a large open area on the rug.

And in the center of it stood Oliver, Theodore, Eleanor, and little Clara, each one dressed in an outfit more outrageous than the last.

Oliver was facing away from her at first, adjusting something about his person.

He wore a white linen cravat wrapped around his head like a comically oversized headband, its ends flopping over one ear.

His broad shoulders were draped in what looked suspiciously like a pair of trousers, threaded over his arms in place of a jacket. And on his feet... Were those pumpkins?

Alethea clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Yes, pumpkins . Two small round pumpkins had been hollowed and strapped onto Oliver's boots, covering them entirely.

"Heavens," she whispered to herself.

She knew that life at the estate was different. But never could she have anticipated something like this.

Theodore looked equally ridiculous, if not more. He had dressed as a lady, complete with a wig and what appeared to be rogue on his face.

At the sight of Alethea in the doorway, Theodore smirked.

"Oh my! If it isn't our dear new duchess. Come in, come in."

Across from him stood Eleanor. She seemed to have had the same idea as her brother, and had dressed as a gentleman. She had drawn a mustache on her face with some sort of charcoal and even slicked her hair back.

Oh, and then Clara did not stray behind either. She appeared to be covered in fur, and was crawling on the ground to pretend to be a dog.

For a moment, Alethea could only watch on in astonished silence.

"How good of you to finally join our humble gathering, dear wife," Oliver addressed her, bringing her out of her rather confused state of mind.

Alethea found herself smiling, albeit nervously.

"You said that attendance was mandatory," she nodded. "I would not have wished to get myself into trouble by not attending."

"Oh, you took my words too seriously," Oliver chuckled. "You would not have gotten into trouble, though you might have missed out on an evening of fun."

"Well, what matters is that I am here now," Alethea nodded.

"But you did not adhere to the rules," Eleanor giggled, pointing at the Duchess' outfit.

She had chosen what she hoped would pass for a silly costume: a simple gilt cardboard crown perched atop her dark brown hair. But she wore her everyday ivory muslin gown, for she hadn't known how to make a costume out of her clothing. Surely a little crown would suffice?

"Is that all you've got?" Clara gasped.

Theodore clucked his tongue in false disapproval.

"Such a lack of commitment to our theme, dear sister," he sighed theatrically, shaking his head.

Alethea flushed, suddenly self-conscious.

"I did not realize one was expected to go to such lengths," she protested softly. She glanced down, twisting her fingers together.

Perhaps she should have tried harder to assemble something amusing, but in truth she'd never participated in anything like this. During her years in the nunnery, fun had been in short supply. Games and costumes belonged to some other life, certainly not hers.

"Utterly unacceptable," Oliver said, solemnly.

Alethea's heart lurched at his stern tone, but she saw the unmistakable sparkle in his eyes and realized he was only playing a part.

This was a performance, not true anger. In fact, the corners of his mouth twitched as though he fought back a laugh. Relief flooded her instantly.

He is different, she reminded herself again.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace?" she turned to him.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her. Though, it was terribly hard to take him seriously with a cravat drooping over one eyebrow.

"A crown and nothing more? My dear Duchess, on Family Night we aim for the utmost ridiculousness. You're scarcely any sillier than on an ordinary day."

Alethea couldn't help a small laugh. She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I fear I have failed, then," she said. "Perhaps I did not quite understand what was expected."

"No matter, we shall remedy it at once," Oliver declared. He called for the butler. And at once, he appeared at the door.

"Your Grace?" he asked, politely.

"A sheet, good man!" Oliver announced, gesturing broadly. "The largest and plainest you can find. Quickly now."

Alethea watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and anticipation.

"A sheet?" she repeated, unable to guess Oliver's design. She looked up at him questioningly, but Oliver only winked in response.

"Patience, Duchess," he said cryptically, leaning down closer to her ear. "If you wished to have more of a role in your own costume, you should have thought it over before."

Her breath caught. Oliver's whisper had sent a pleasant shiver across the back of her neck. She was still unused to such casual touch.

In short order, the butler returned with a large white cotton bedsheet folded neatly over his arm.

"Thank you, that will do splendidly," Oliver accepted it with a nod.

The butler's gaze flickered briefly to Alethea, then he bowed again and departed, closing the door behind him.

"Now, wait," Oliver said, spreading the sheet in front of him. Alethea did as told, amused by this new playful side to the duke that she had not been privy to before.

"Arms up, please," he approached her with the sheet held out in front of him. Alethea obligingly raised her arms out to the sides. The next moment, the white sheet billowed around her as Oliver swept it over her head and let it cascade down her body.

Through the thin fabric, she could see only shadows but she felt Oliver's strong hands carefully arranging the sheet, his fingertips brushing near her shoulders as he centered it.

"Now, remain very still," came his muffled voice from somewhere on the other side of the sheet. "The last thing I wish to do is injure you."

"Injure?"

But the question was answered on its own when suddenly she heard a loud rip in the fabric. Oliver had torn a small hole in the sheet, directly where it draped over her face. In another instant, he carefully tugged and ripped further, enlarging it.

"Much better," Oliver grinned triumphantly. "Very ghostly."

He adjusted the edges of the hole gently around her face, and Alethea's cheeks burned at the fleeting sensation of his fingers.

She noticed the flex of muscles in his forearm as he carefully tore a little more fabric to even out the opening.

The rolled-up sleeves of his ridiculous makeshift trouser-shirt left his lower arms bare.

Alethea swallowed hard, inexplicably drawn by the sight of Oliver's forearms and hands. She had the strangest urge to reach out and trace a finger along one of those faint veins that stood out against his skin as he worked.

What is wrong with me? she wondered, shooing the thought away.

She was grateful when he finally stepped away, because she needed a moment to collect herself.

"Behold," Oliver announced finally. "The Ghost of Redhaven."

Both the young girls clapped their hands together in excitement, while Theodore only chuckled in the background.

"I hope that my costume is up to your standards now," Alethea started. Surprisingly, instead of feeling totally ridiculous, she felt rather free instead.

"It passes." Alethea could almost hear the smirk in her husband's voice as he said the words. "Now, shall we start with the night?"

"Yes, please," Alethea nodded, though still unsure of what that would entail.