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" T ime for bed now."

Alethea had recently begun to implement a nightly ritual with Clara and Eleanor, determined to bring a bit of order to their lives. By half past eight, she had guided them through washing up and changing into their nightgowns.

Alethea sat between their small beds, reading aloud from a worn copy of The Tales of King Arthur . Clara fought to keep her eyes open, while Eleanor listened, more awake.

"Sir Lancelot rode through the dark woods, the path lit only by the shimmer of distant stars…" Alethea read gently. Her own eyelids felt heavy in empathy as she watched Clara's head nod and loll to the side.

By the time Sir Lancelot had rescued the maiden, both girls were fast asleep. Carefully, tucked the blankets up to the Clara's chin. She rose and lifted the candlestick to cast one last loving look at her young sisters-in-law.

A swell of tenderness filled her chest. In just a few weeks, these girls had come to mean so much to her.

She tiptoed to the door and slipped into the corridor, closing the nursery door with the faintest click. Turning, she nearly started to find Oliver standing just outside, leaning against the wall.

"They're asleep already?" he straightened at the sight of her, an expression of pleasant surprise on his face.

"Soundly," Alethea nodded, matching his hushed tone.

Oliver glanced at the closed door incredulously.

"It's not yet nine. I'm astonished. They usually concoct endless reasons to delay bedtime," he shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You've worked a miracle."

"No miracle, I assure you," Alethea felt a warm flush of pride and shyness at his praise. "I have been trying to implement a routine of sorts for them."

"You seem to be doing an excellent job at that, then," he gave a soft chuckle.

She thanked him gently under her breath. In earnest, she had not expected to be discovered by him like this. Nor was this something she was doing to impress him. Still, she could not deny that it warmed her heart a little to be acknowledged like this.

"In all seriousness, Alethea… thank you," he continued on. "Not just for this, but all of the things that I have been noticing that you do for the girls. Clara and Eleanor adore you. I suspect they'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked."

Her heart fluttered again. When it came to compliments, Oliver really did not hold himself back.

"They are very sweet girls," she managed softly. "It's a pleasure to spend time with them."

Oliver stepped closer, and her heart thundered inside of her chest.

"I confess, I expected some growing pains," he said. "They have never taken easily to new people in the household. But with you, it's as if you've always been here."

"I'm glad. I've never had younger siblings to care for but Clara and Eleanor make it easy." She hesitated, then added earnestly, "I care for them very much."

"I can tell," Oliver murmured. His gaze held hers. "You've been nothing short of wonderful with them. With everyone, really."

The praise was almost too much. Alethea dropped her eyes, a tremor of happiness and embarrassment running through her.

"You overstate my contribution," she whispered.

"You understate yours," he corrected her. "You've brought a light to this house that we didn't know we were missing."

Alethea's breath caught. Did he truly mean that?

She quickly dipped her head, trying to hide the delighted smile that threatened to break out across her face.

"If you really think that," she said, holding onto the candlestick in her hands, which were already now shaking despite her best efforts to keep them steady, "then I am truly well honored by this praise."

Oliver reached out and gently took the candlestick from her, his fingers briefly brushing against hers.

"Allow me," he said. He set the candle on a side table, the better to free her hands.

Before Alethea could muster a reply, an awkward silence fell. She realized with a start that they were standing quite close now, face to face. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She could just make out the soft curve of Oliver's smile.

"I mean it, Alethea," he said gently. "Thank you. For caring for my sisters… and for everything you have done since arriving. I am…" he broke off, as though choosing his words carefully. "I am very grateful."

She swallowed, suddenly aware of how the warmth of his body seemed to radiate across the small space between them.

"They are my family now too," she managed in a hushed tone. "Of course I would care for them."

For a heartbeat, it looked as if Oliver wanted to say something more. His hand half-lifted, as if he might touch her cheek. Alethea's heart skipped in anticipation. But then he seemed to think better of it and merely inclined his head.

"All the same… you have my thanks."

Alethea opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out. She took a half-step backward to compose herself, forgetting that the small table was directly behind her. Her heel bumped the leg of the table; she wobbled, balance slipping.

A soft gasp escaped her as she began to pitch backward. In an instant, Oliver's arm shot out. He caught her around the waist, pulling her against him before she could fall.

Alethea found herself pressed to his chest, her hands braced against his shirt. The world tilted for a dizzying moment as she realized how solid he was beneath her palms. Oliver's face hovered inches from hers.

"Easy now," he murmured in a hoarse voice.

"I… I'm sorry," she stammered, mortified. But she could not will herself to move away. "How clumsy of me."

His arm remained around her, holding her steady.

"Think nothing of it," he said softly.

They stood like that a beat too long, neither quite ready to break away. His gaze fluttered to her lips, and for a moment Alethea felt as though her entire world stood still.

Was he about to…?

A sudden metallic plink broke their moment. The candle fell to the floor, along with its metal holder. Both of them jolted at the sound.

Oliver cleared his throat and gently released her. At once, Alethea missed the warmth of his hold. She stepped back, smoothing her skirts with trembling hands.

"Thank you," she whispered, acutely aware of the blush heating her cheeks.

"I.. well, of course."

They both moved at the same time, each bending to retrieve the candlestick. Their foreheads nearly knocked together.

"Oh!" Alethea drew back hastily.

"Pardon me…" Oliver said at once.

They both stopped, then shared a startled smile. Alethea felt the tension ease into shy laughter bubbling up in her chest.

"Allow me," Oliver insisted with a chuckle, lifting the candlestick and handing it to her once more.

She accepted it, their fingers brushing yet again. Her face felt impossibly hot.

"Both of us seem to be clumsy at the moment," she could only manage to say.

"We are doing just fine," he winked at her.

Winked? He was not aware of it but the small gesture sent her heart beating out of her chest. She bit down on her lip, trying to fight the smile on her face.

Instead of running off to her own chambers, she realized that she wished to linger a bit more. She thought back to what Theodore had said to her about being in love, and in this moment, there was no denying that this was exactly what it was.

But it was a love that was not return.

As if jolted back to reality, Alethea straightened sharply.

"I should…" she gestured vaguely toward her end of the corridor where her chambers lay.

"Yes, of course. It's late." Oliver ran a hand through his hair, attempting to recover his usual composure. "Pleasant dreams, Alethea."

"And to you, Oliver," she replied softly.

But as they parted, she could not help but steal a last glance back at him. To her surprise, he was looking in her direction, as well.

Oh. Trouble.

"Alethea!"

Two mornings later, Alethea arrived at her family's townhouse in London for a much-anticipated visit. The carriage had scarcely rolled to a stop in front of the Carter residence before the front door flew open and two familiar figures rushed out onto the steps.

Daphne reached the carriage almost before the footman could open the door. Alethea could barely get a word in before Daphne flung her arms around her.

"I've missed you so," her sister cried.

Alethea laughed, returning the hug. It felt nice to be welcomed like this, even though her relationship with her sisters was not the closest.

"It has only been a month, dearest," Alethea replied, feeling more at ease than the last time she had been at her home.

"A month is an age," Daphne insisted. She stepped back to survey Alethea and gasped in delight. "Look at you! Marriage clearly agrees with you, sister. You're positively glowing."

Alethea blushed but she was spared from replying as Joyce greeted her next.

"My darling, we've been beside ourselves waiting to see you," Joyce murmured. There was a hint of lingering worry in her eyes as she drew back to study Alethea's face. "Are you truly well? We've had only your letters, and you always downplay any hardship."

"I am well. Very well, in fact," Alethea assured, squeezing Joyce's hands.

Daphne tugged eagerly at Alethea's arm.

"Come inside. We were just about to have tea."

Within minutes the three sisters were settled in the morning room. Daphne kept insistently pouring tea and pressing sweets upon Alethea as though she were a guest of honor.

"Tell us everything," she said.

"I hardly know where to begin," Alethea said, smiling.

"We want to hear every last detail," Daphne declared. "Is the Duke treating you well? Has he bought you jewels and dresses?"

Alethea shook her head in amusement. Trust Daphne to cut straight to the most romantic possibilities.

"One question at a time, please. His Grace has been…" She paused, a soft smile playing on her lips. "As I have said before, I could not have asked for a more considerate husband."

Joyce's shoulders visibly relaxed at these words. Daphne clapped her hands.