Page 20

" A lethea? Are you awake?"

Oliver said the words to her when everyone else had already drifted off to sleep. It seemed that the duke was just as sleepless as she was this night.

She turned to face him, though she could only make out a faint outline of him in the dark room.

"Yes. I cannot seem to fall asleep just yet."

"Nor I," Oliver replied, and then in a tender voice added, "I hope you enjoyed tonight."

"Oh, I did," she assured him earnestly. "It was wonderful. I have never... that is, I don't think I've ever laughed so much."

"I'm glad to hear it. We can be a ridiculous lot, I know, but the point is always to enjoy ourselves." He paused a moment. "And to make everyone feel they belong."

Everyone, including her. She felt a flutter in chest again.

"You are quite good at doing that."

"Does that overwhelm you as well?" he asked, referring back to the conversation they had at the ball.

"Well, perhaps. But not in a bad way," she said, earnestly. "I confess, I wasn't sure what to do. I've never had a family night or anything remotely like it."

"There is a first time for everything," he said simply.

There was silence for a long moment. Alethea wondered if the duke had fallen asleep. But then he spoke gain.

"Earlier, when you told your ghost story."

Alethea tensed, involuntarily. Her suspicions were seeming to be correct that Oliver saw more than the surface tonight.

"I'm sorry," he murmured quickly. "I don't mean to pry or upset you. I only... well, I noticed how it began. And how you changed it midway."

"You are quite interceptive," she could only say in response.

"When it comes to you, yes," Oliver nodded. "I would like to know more."

Alethea felt as though it was time for her to be honest to the duke. She had kept the details of her history closely guarded since coming here. Not that Oliver had ever pressed her but she knew he was aware of some of it.

Her sisters would have told him the basics: that she had been lost as a child, raised in a convent-like nunnery. But no one really knew the details of it.

Alethea's throat tightened. Part of her wanted desperately to keep all those years locked away. But another part of her yearned for him to know . She wasn't sure why it felt so important that he understand; perhaps because, more than anyone, he had shown her that men could be gentle.

Alethea swallowed, gathering her courage.

"I would like to tell you," she said quietly. "About my story... You deserve to know what sort of person you married."

He waited for her to continue.

"You know some of it already, I think. I was lost as a child.

I was barely two, no, actually, I had just turned three.

" Her brow furrowed in concentration; she realized she hadn't truly spoken of that day to anyone in detail before.

"My family was traveling and there was an accident.

I don't recall much, only cold water all around me and being terribly afraid. "

"They thought I died. And I suppose, in a way, I did die that day, at least the life I was meant to have ended. Because I was found downstream by someone else entirely."

"Go on," Oliver said, finding her hand underneath the covers.

"A nun found me on the riverbank the next morning," Alethea continued.

"She was from a small nunnery out in the countryside.

I wasn't old enough to even tell them my surname properly.

They only got ‘Alethea' from me. I could barely speak clearly at that age.

I suppose they assumed I was an orphan. And the nun took me back to their convent to be raised among them. "

Oliver's thumb brushed over the side of her hand.

"Thank God someone kind found you."

She gave a tiny shake of her head.

"Kind... perhaps. Sister Celeste, the one who carried me away, she was a decent woman. But the place she brought me to, it was not at all what one imagines a holy and charitable institution to be."

"I have heard stories," Oliver admitted, which surprised Alethea.

"The nunnery was run by a man called Father Wilkes," she said, almost spitting the name. "He was not a kind man. Corrupt, though I didn't fully realize how much until I was older. To him, we girls were not children to be cared for. We were, in effect, unpaid servants."

Oliver's fingers tightened on hers, subtly.

"From as young as I can remember, we were put to work. All sorts of it, cleaning, cooking, tending the vegetable gardens, or anything that could be sold for money. Not that the money ever benefited us, of course. It went to Father Wilkes and the church."

"If we made mistakes, or failed to complete our tasks, we were punished."

Her throat closed up on the next part, the most painful part, but she forced herself to go on. Oliver deserved to know everything, and she... she needed someone to know, truly know, what it had been like.

"There was a girl named Temperance," Alethea said softly. "She was my dearest friend there, we grew up together, arrived around the same time. We looked out for each other. When we were about fourteen, Temperance tried to escape."

Her heart squeezed at the memory of Temperance sneaking out of the dormitory window. Alethea, come with me! and her being too scared to do it. She had stayed behind, paralyzed by fear of punishment.

"She made it as far as the road," Alethea went on, "He caught her himself. Brought her back by the hair." Her voice wavered with anger and sorrow. "It was the worst I had ever seen him."

She could feel how tense his body was. But he held silent, letting her speak, which she was grateful for. If he interrupted now, she might not get the rest out.

"I couldn't bear it," she whispered. "Temperance was like a sister to me. And I was such a coward, I hadn't gone with her, so she was alone when he dragged her back. I just couldn't let him hurt her. So before he could accuse her of running, I stepped forward and I lied for her."

"You took the blame."

"Yes." Alethea swallowed hard. "I told Father Wilkes that it was me. She tried to protest, but she was in such a state and I just... I gave her a look to stay quiet. He believed me, or perhaps he didn't care which of us was the culprit. It was excuse enough to make an example."

Now Oliver's hand clutched hers outright. She felt him shift, as if he had to physically restrain himself from leaping up.

"That was how I got the scar on my back."

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, feeling the memory as fresh as it had happened only yesterday.

She was trembling all over. Without a word, Oliver shifted nearer across the small space and drew her into his arms. He pulled her right up against his chest, enveloping her in warmth.

Alethea didn't resist. The moment she felt his embrace, something inside her cracked wide open. A sob escaped her throat. Oliver's hand gently cradled the back of her head, pressing it to his shoulder .

"I'm here," he whispered, "I've got you."

She clutched the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling desperately into it as another soft sob shook her. She tried to keep silent so as not to wake the others, burying her face against him, but the tears flowed freely now.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, over and over. "When I saw... those scars on your back... I feared you'd been hurt, but I never imagined it was like this. If only I had known you then, I would have..."

After a few moments, Alethea managed to catch her breath enough to speak again, though she did not loosen her hold on him.

"It's over now," she whispered, as if to reassure both of them. "It ended, eventually. The authorities found out what he was doing, the whole nunnery was shut down some months ago. He is likely to be hanged for it, if he hasn't been already."

She stared down at her fingers clenched in the quilt, afraid to see what expression Oliver might wear upon hearing of such ugliness. What if he was repulsed by her past, or drowning in pity for her?

"He deserves far worse," he said, "I would kill him myself if it meant sparing you what you suffered."

She found herself strangely comforted by the idea that someone in the world wanted to defend her like this. She let out a shaky breath.

"You needn't trouble yourself. He will face justice."

Oliver shifted just enough to angle his head down towards hers. He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to her hair, just above her temple.

"No one will hurt you again," he whispered, "Not while I live. I promise you, Alethea."

She closed her eyes. How often had she dreamed in the darkness of the dormitory for someone, anyone , to come and vow such a thing? The realization overwhelmed her in the best way.

No one spoke for a long time.

"Oliver," she murmured finally, now letting the sleep take over, "I feel safe with you."

It was the closest she could come to saying thank you and I care for you deeply.

"You are safe with me," he whispered against her hair. "You should invite your friends from the nunnery to visit you."

"Do you really mean that?" Alethea was surprised. She had feared that he would be repulsed from her past, but he had proven her wrong once more.

"I think it might be good for you. You shared this experience with them," he nodded. "And they understand it better than I do."

"You understand now more than the rest," she smiled. "But I shall take up your advice."

"Think about it," he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead again.

When sleep finally came that night, it was a rare night without nightmares for Alethea. Perhaps it was because Oliver never let go of his grip on her, but that night, she slept the best that she had in years.

It felt as though a weight had been lifted off her chest.