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" I hope I haven't earned the Duke's eternal wrath by stealing you away."

Peter was the first to break the silence with a joke.

"Oliver is not so easily angered, I think," Alethea managed a soft laugh.

But even as she said the words, her tone was carried a hint of unsurety. In the moment, it had seemed like a fabulous idea to make Oliver jealous, which was something she had never done before. Nor had she thought that she was capable of doing as well.

But now, as reality settled around her and she was actually at the dancefloor, she wondered if she had tried to push her luck too far.

"If you believe that, Your Grace, you haven't known him as long as I have," Peter replied. "His Grace has a temper, though I am not surprised that he does not let it show in front of you."

"I suppose that it is for the better that he does not," she nodded.

They performed the first sequence, exchanging partners and then returning. As Peter took her hand to lead her in a turn, he spoke again.

"I must say, you are handling all this remarkably well."

Alethea inclined her head modestly, but then looked over to the sides where Oliver was watching her still. He had not moved from his place.

"To be plucked from obscurity and thrust into the highest society overnight—most would faint at the prospect," Peter continued on, despite Alethea not paying him too much heed.

"It has been an adjustment," she allowed carefully.

"If it's not too forward, how are you finding Oliver's household? And Oliver himself?" Peter guided her around a small circle.

Alethea nearly stumbled in surprise at the directness of the question, but Peter expertly steadied her with a hand at her elbow, making it look like part of the dance.

"I find them all very kind," she answered once composed. "And His Grace is…" She hesitated, unsure how to summarize such a complex man in a dance's length. "He has been very considerate of me."

"Considerate. That is an interesting choice of word for our Oliver."

"You disagree?" she asked, genuinely curious now.

"Oh, he can be thoughtful, certainly. But I've not often heard him called considerate. Efficient, yes. Dutiful, surely," Peter said wryly, earning a small smile from Alethea. "But I suspect he shows you a side of himself that we may not often see."

Alethea felt a flush creep up her neck. Her reasoning for the dance had been to simply get a small reaction out of her husband, but now that she was here, it seemed that she was gathering insights about him that she had not been privy to before.

Perhaps then, it had not been such a bad idea.

"I wouldn't presume to know all of Oliver's sides," Alethea replied. gently. "Our marriage is still quite new."

"Even so, you've had an effect on him. I see it plainly."

"And what effect is that?" she asked, stealing a glance back at her husband. Rest assured, he had not moved a single inch.

"He's happier," Peter said, without hesitation. "Frankly, it's rather sickening to those of us who are still disreputable bachelors. You're making us look bad, Your Grace."

Alethea laughed outright at that, unable to help herself. The notion that she could make Oliver happy sent an unexpected warmth in her chest.

The dance ended after that. Alethea dropped into her curtsy, and Peter bowed. There was more applause, though more subdued than after the opening waltz.

"Thank you, Your Grace, for indulging me with that dance," he said warmly. "It has been the highlight of my night."

"You are too generous, sir," Alethea replied.

She cast a glance around in search of Oliver. Indeed, she spotted him not far off, standing with Alexander and Nicholas. Oliver's eyes were fixed on her and Peter, his jaw set in a line that was most definitely not a smile.

"Perhaps I ought to return you to him before I'm called out for a duel at dawn," Peter laughed.

"Yes, let's not keep him waiting."

They approached the cluster of gentlemen and Oliver stepped forward at once.

"Morton," he addressed Peter, "I shall need you to return my wife to me now."

Peter had the grace to appear unfazed by Oliver's pointed look. "I return her to you safe and sound, Your Grace."

Oliver's fingers closed over Alethea's, and she felt the tension in his grip.

"Indeed," he said. "Enjoy the rest of the ball, Peter." The dismissal in his words was clear, though politely phrased.

Peter knew better than to press his luck. With a final bow to Alethea and a cheeky wink at Oliver, he excused himself, presumably to find another partner or refreshment.

Alexander and Nicholas excused themselves shortly after. Oliver took the moment, and turned to his wife.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly. "Did he behave himself?"

"Mr. Morton was a perfect gentleman, if that's what you're asking." She nodded, feigning innocence. "In fact, he was quite complimentary and entertaining. A fine dancer too."

"I see," Oliver narrowed his eyes just slightly.

"Although…" she continued, "I do remember seeing you scowl from the sidelines. Of course, I could be wrong as well."

"It was not my intent to cause any distraction," Oliver said through gritted teeth.

Alethea shook her head.

"No apology necessary. To be honest, I hardly noticed anything but keeping my steps in order." That was not entirely true, but she wished to soothe him. She laid her free hand lightly atop his arm. "You needn't fret. It would have been most impolite of me to refuse every dance partner but you."

"Come with me," he said to her.

"But I must greet the guests," she argued, though her tone lacked any conviction. In earnest, she would willingly follow him wherever he wished to take her.

"Let us step out for a moment," he said, "Out to the terrace for some air?"

Alethea's eyes flicked toward the tall glass doors that lined one side of the ballroom. It occurred to her then that he was not asking for them to step out for her sake, but his own. She nodded.

Oliver guided her through the edge of the ballroom, nodding politely at a few guests who tried to intercept them. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of their attention tonight. Finally, they made their way over to the terrace.

"Oh, that's much better," Alethea closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle breeze.

Out here, things appeared much calmer. She kept looking over to Oliver, wondering what must be going through his mind or if the possessive jealousy from earlier still lingered.

"I told the staff to keep an assortment of refreshments out here, in case guests want a cooler retreat.

" He gestured to a side table where a servant stood ready with chilled lemonade and ices.

"Would you care for something to drink? Champagne can only sustain one so far," he added with a slight smile.

"Lemonade would be lovely, thank you."

Oliver fetched two glasses of lemonade himself, waving off the footman's help. When he returned, they stood together, sipping in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"Penny for your thoughts," Oliver broke the silence finally.

She turned back to him. He had set his empty glass aside, and his full attention rested on her.

In the gentle half-light, his features were relaxed.

It struck her that this was the most at ease she had seen him in a social setting all night.

Perhaps he too preferred the relative quiet of the terrace to the throng inside.

"I was just thinking how peculiar it is," Alethea answered slowly, "that not long ago I had never even been to a single ball. And now here I am, hosting one." She shook her head in wonder.

"Life has changed quickly for you. For both of us, really," Oliver nodded.

She searched his face.

"Are you still angry at your brother for…for forcing these changes?"

It was the first time she had directly broached the topic of the circumstances that brought them together in public. They had discussed the practicalities, of course, but not Oliver's feelings on it.

"I was furious with him for his recklessness and for the danger he put you in, however unintentionally." His jaw tightened. "Part of me is still angry. Theodore has a way of acting without thought for consequences."

"He did act foolishly," she agreed quietly. "But I believe his heart was…in the right place, at least regarding Joyce."

"Yes. He truly loves her. That much even I cannot deny." He sighed. "That doesn't excuse his methods. He could have gone about things properly, spoken to your family, courted her openly. Joyce is a widow of good standing, after all. It wasn't an impossible match."

"But?" Alethea prompted gently, hearing the unspoken addition in his tone.

Oliver's lips pressed into a thin line.

"But now it's out of the question," he said, voice low. "Not after the scandal he nearly caused, and not while I have any say in it."

Alethea frowned. She had anticipated some reluctance from Oliver about Theodore and Joyce, but his tone was ironclad.

"So you mean to forbid them from being together? Entirely?"

"Yes. For now, at least, I have forbidden Theodore from any interaction with your sister beyond polite civility in company," he looked down at her,

Alethea absorbed that, an uneasy feeling stirring in her gut. It was clear to her that Joyce was hurting, as was Theodore.

She set her lemonade aside, folding her hands together.

"Oliver, is that truly necessary? They are both adults. Joyce is a widow, not some impressionable girl."

"I am aware," Oliver replied, stiffly. "But Theodore has a responsibility to our family's reputation, and now, tangentially, to yours as well.

If I allowed him to continue courting Joyce after all this, tongues would wag incessantly.

They'd say us brothers have some unhealthy obsession with Carter sisters and scandal.

I have to consider the greater picture."

He attempted a wry smile, but it fell flat.