Page 28

"I see that introductions have been dreadfully lacking one important person," he announced lightly. "Myself. Peter Morton, Your Grace. Old schoolfriend of Oliver's."

"Peter," Oliver groaned, sending a scowl at his friend. Alethea noticed Oliver subtly shift his weight. In the weeks since their marriage he had been gentle and courteous, but often reserved. Among his friends, however, he seemed more at ease and boyish.

"Pay him no mind, Alethea," Oliver said to her wryly. "Morton is incapable of seriousness."

Peter's eyes widened.

"Untrue! I can be very serious when the occasion demands. For instance, I am deadly serious when I say that Her Grace positively glows tonight." He fixed Alethea with a smile. "The Duke is a fortunate man indeed."

Alethea could not help but return a polite smile.

"You are too kind, Mr. Morton," she replied. "Though I must agree, my husband is fortunate."

It was her way of appearing confident among the group who already knew each other so well. It seemed to work, as Alexander barked a laugh.

"Well struck, Your Grace," Alexander applauded. "Oliver, I believe your Duchess has you well in hand."

"I wouldn't dare deny it," Oliver said warmly. For a moment Alethea forgot everyone else around them as she lost herself in her husband's gaze. There was something there that made her heart turn over in her chest.

Their private moment was interrupted by the sudden surge of music. All around, couples began to assemble on the floor. Oliver smoothly drew her hand into the crook of his arm once more and stepped forward. As host and hostess, it was only fitting that they open the dancing.

"May I have the honor?" Oliver asked her.

"Of course, Your Grace." Inside, she was trembling again. This was the part she had been most nervous about: the dancing. Please let me not misstep, she prayed silently. The eyes of the entire ballroom would be on them for this first dance.

Oliver must have sensed her tension. "Just follow me. I won't let you falter."

They took their positions among the other couples.

Alethea placed her right hand lightly in Oliver's and her left hand atop his broad shoulder.

His free hand settled at her waist and they faced each other.

On cue, he swept her into motion. At first, Alethea was so focused on not tripping that she hardly noticed anything else.

"You're doing wonderfully," Oliver murmured. His face was close as they revolved in time to the music. Alethea dared to meet his eyes. There was delight there, and something like pride.

"I am trying my hardest not to step on you," she admitted, shyly.

"And you won't," he chuckled. "I'd stake my life on it."

He spun her lightly, and her gown fanned out before he drew her back into the secure circle of his arm. Alethea felt almost giddy.

"Tell me, why is that you seem to always have more confidence in me than even I, myself do?" she asked.

It was not so strange of a thing to ask, she thought. Only that she had pondered over it. It was not as though Oliver had known her for a long time, but still, he seemed to be very certain about her abilities.

"I have a good reading on people," he shrugged his shoulders. Alethea could tell that he was playing down his response, as he often did. "You need to have a better reading on yourself."

"Yes, you have given me this advice before," she nodded, as he twirled her again. "Do you think I was fine back there? In front of your friends, I mean. I did not try to show it but I was a great deal nervous."

"You were marvelous," Oliver's reply was immediate and sincere. "I could tell that they liked you immediately."

"Are all of your friends married?" she asked. She had meant it as an innocent inquiry, as marriage gave her something in common with the other ladies. But his expression soured.

"Except Peter, yes," he replied.

"Oh right," Alethea nodded. She had not even thought about him.

Finally, the dance drew to a close. The couples halted, a round of polite applause sounding. Alethea realized people were clapping for the host couple as well for her. The Duchess of Redhaven had not stumbled or made a fool of herself; indeed, several approving smiles were aimed her way.

The relief she felt was truly immense. She dropped into the closing curtsy and Oliver bowed. He then offered his arm to lead her from the floor.

"That wasn't so terrible," he said under his breath, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I had a most excellent partner," she laughed lightly.

They rejoined Oliver's friends at the edge of the ballroom. Instantly Penelope and Isadora descended towards her.

"My dear, you looked magnificent out there!" Penelope squeezed Alethea's hand. "So graceful, a manner that is truly befitting for a duchess."

"I was trying my hardest," Alethea said, a hint of her usual honesty coming out. "I must admit that I am still getting used to dancing."

"Not a hint of it showed," said Isadora kindly. "It seemed quite effortless, if anything."

Effortless. In her old life, she could never have imagined the word being used for her. She was anything but effortless, for she would always try her hardest for everything.

Though, she had to admit that there was a certain pleasure in being described in that manner.

Oliver's hand brushed the small of Alethea's back. But before he could add his own compliment, they were interrupted by another guest.

"The radiant Duchess needs refreshment after that performance, I'm sure," Peter declared, suddenly appearing with two glasses of champagne. He offered one to Alethea with a smile. "If I may be so bold, Your Grace."

Alethea accepted the glass gratefully, not thinking much of it.

"You are very thoughtful, Mr. Morton," she said. She was in fact rather parched, and the cool fizz of drink was a welcome relief.

"I aim to please," he said. "And please allow me to add, the two of you were the envy of every couple during that dance. I daresay half the room sighed in longing."

"Half the room?" Oliver snorted. "You exaggerate, Peter."

"I am not exaggerating," Peter shrugged, sipping from his glass. "Dear friend, you might have gotten used to seeing your Duchess everyday but for the rest of us, it is still quite the wonder."

Something about the manner in which he spoke made Alethea a bit nervous suddenly. It was not as though other gentleman had not given her compliments at the ball. More so, Peter's compliments were more personal than the other ones.

Oliver seemed to have taken notice as well. Alethea noticed how the sides of his mouth folded into what resembled a frown.

"I do not exaggerate in the slightest when I say the Duchess has reinvigorated this old bachelor's love of waltzing. In fact," Peter went on, unfazed, "if Her Grace would honor me, I should like to claim the next dance."

Alethea blinked at the sudden request. She opened her mouth, casting a quick glance at Oliver.

The expectations of a hostess were such that she would need to dance with others. And Peter was Oliver's close friend. Surely it would be rude to decline.

"The Duchess might prefer a short rest after opening the ball. We wouldn't want to tire her too soon," Oliver answered on behalf of Alethea before she could say another word.

Alethea realized with that Oliver was trying to shield her from Peter's request. But doing so in front of everyone might cause a small scene. Already Penelope and Alexander exchanged knowing looks, and Isadora pursed her lips in amusement.

It dawned on Alethea that they all understood precisely what was happening: Oliver was feeling possessive.

Somehow, it ignited something inside of her. She had navigated one dance successfully; she could manage another, even if with a new partner. Especially if it brought out Oliver's protective jealousy.

"Thank you, Mr. Morton. I would be delighted."

Oliver's head whipped toward her in surprise. It was rare for Alethea to counter him so directly, even in so small a matter. She met his gaze calmly, hoping to convey that it was all right. They could not very well refuse friends without cause. And she truly was feeling more confident now.

Before Oliver could protest further, Peter handed off his empty glass and extended his arm to Alethea.

"Shall we, Your Grace?"