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"And what of their happiness? Does that not factor into your picture?" She kept her voice soft, mindful of other couples on the terrace, but there was an unmistakable edge to it now.

"Their happiness was not something Theodore was considering when he nearly ruined you," he retorted. "Forgive me if I am not inclined to reward him by allowing him to run straight back into Lady 'Albourne's arms."

Alethea flinched at the sudden hardness in his tone. She took a half-step back, unconsciously creating distance. Oliver instantly realized his raised voice and reached for her.

"Alethea…"

But she had already recoiled, eyes downcast. Her heart thudded, and she cursed herself for reacting on instinct.

He is not going to hurt you , she told herself firmly. Indeed, his large hand gently clasped her forearm in remorse, not anger.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said at once, his voice strained. "I shouldn't have spoken so sharply."

Alethea drew a slow breath, willing the memory of past harsh voices from the nunnery.

This was Oliver. He would never harm her, she knew this. Still, her body's reflex had betrayed her, making her flinch as if she were that frightened girl again. She felt a wave of embarrassment.

"No, I…I apologize," she managed quietly, raising her eyes to meet his. "I didn't mean to react so."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault entirely." Keeping his touch light, he slid his hand down her arm to take her hand in his. His palm was warm, slightly trembling. "I swore to myself I would never cause you to feel fear."

Alethea's heart twisted at the pain in his voice. She could see how deeply it affected him. She had only flinched and he was as shaken as she by it. Without thinking, she stepped close and tightened her fingers around his.

"Your Grace, it's all right. I was startled, that is all. I know you would never hurt me."

He searched her face, as if to assure himself her words were true.

"Still," he said hoarsely, "the fact that you flinched at my tone… It tells me more than perhaps you intend. About what you've been through. It makes me want to find whoever ever frightened you that badly and…"

He stopped himself, jaw clenched. But Alethea could guess what he'd been about to say. He didn't need to finish; she saw it in the taut line of his mouth. He wanted to hurt the one who hurt me.

Her own eyes prickled with emotion. Gently, she reached up with her free hand and brushed her fingertips along his cheek. Oliver's breath caught at the touch.

"You are a good man," she whispered. "Better than any I have known. Please don't look so stricken. I truly am all right."

"When I think of what you endured… How you were mistreated under the guise of discipline." He exhaled shakily. "I have…very dark thoughts, Alethea."

Alethea's hand drifted from his cheek to his shoulder. His confession did not frighten her; on the contrary, it moved her deeply. That he cared enough to harbor such protective fury on her behalf.

"I know," she said softly. "And I know you. Whatever dark thoughts you may harbor, you would never turn them on me. I trust you. Completely."

With that simple declaration, something in Oliver seemed to break. He pulled her into his arms then, wrapping her in a firm embrace. She rested her cheek against his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart. For a long moment, they simply held each other.

Oliver's hand cradled the back of her head. She felt him press a kiss into her hair.

"No one will hurt you again," he whispered.

Alethea closed her eyes against the stinging of tears. She clutched at the front of his coat, anchoring herself to him.

"I believe you," she breathed.

They stood like that for a long moment. Her mind was whirring in all direction. Surely, this felt more than just a duty.

Love had already bloomed for her, but in that moment, she wondered for the first time if the same held true for him.

"We should return inside," Oliver broke the silence after a while. "They'll be missing the hostess."

Oliver was pulling back behind his walls. She understood this. She mustn't push; she told herself. The look in his eyes was already conflicted enough.

"As you wish," she replied softly. She hoped he could not hear the disappointment she tried to hide. With care, she composed her features into a semblance of calm.

The Duchess mask , she thought wryly. How easily it settled over her when needed.

Oliver continued to hold her hand as they left the terrace and re-entered the noise of the ballroom.

They might have been gone only fifteen minutes or so, but to Alethea it felt like she had lived a lifetime in that quarter hour.

Judging by Oliver's taut silence, he too was still processing what had passed.

As soon as they were back among the crowd, Oliver's grip on her hand loosened and he eventually released it, offering his arm in a more proper fashion instead.

Oliver did not leave her side for the rest of the night, and she noted that Peter did not interact with her again. She could only wonder if her husband had a role to play in that, but she did not interrogate him.

The ball wound to its close with a final, lively set of dances. By then, Alethea was pleasantly exhausted. The final guests were departing as Alethea stood by Oliver at the door.

Her own sisters appeared. Daphne squeezed Alethea's hands proudly, Felicity and Joyce both hugged her in turn.

"What a great ball," Daphne lauded. "I am sure the ton will be speaking of it for days to come."

"You are kind," Alethea smiled.

Joyce did not appear to say much. Alethea noticed she appeared entirely distracted.

Theodore.

The thought appeared to her immediately, and she looked at the top of the grand staircase to see Theodore looking in their direction. Joyce seemed to be aware of this, as well. As she stole a last look in his direction.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," she said sincerely to Joyce, feeling a tinge of guilt all over again.

"You were wonderful tonight," Joyce said in return.

"I…" Alethea tried to say something, but stopped herself for she knew Oliver could hear every word. But Oliver seemed aware of what was happening as well. He looked back at Theodore, who continued to stare in Joyce's direction mournfully. "Well, take care of yourself," she said instead.

The sisters departed then, and Alethea knew that this was not the last that she would hear of the story between Theodore and Joyce.

She was beginning to understand how love felt now. And if what the two of them felt was even a fraction of what she did for the duke, it would be no question that they would not give up so easily.

Oliver closed the door after the final carriage departed. Only the Duke and Duchess remained in the grand foyer now, with a few footmen discreetly waiting to extinguish candles and begin the cleanup.

"It seems congratulations are in order, Duchess," Oliver said.

"You think so?" Alethea said. She turned to look at the top of the stairs again, and Theodore was no longer there. It seemed that he had taken his leave as soon as Joyce had.

"For handily silencing every last critic in London, I'd say," Oliver said, "I could not be prouder of you."

"I only followed your lead," she murmured.

Oliver gently squeezed her hands.

"Nonsense. You led just as much as I tonight. The papers tomorrow will no doubt sing the praises of the ‘Surprising Duchess' or some such."

"Do you think that they will finally stop talking about the conditions of our marriage?" she asked.

"I think so," Oliver shrugged, "The ton are easily distracted."

Alethea stepped closer, their joined hands between them.

"If it helps secure our place and quiets the rumors, then I am content." She hesitated, then added softly, "I want to make you proud, Oliver."

A smile formed on his face at her words, and she noticed that he seemed to be hiding a shy blush as well. The very idea of the duke blushing was inconceivable for her. But before she could prod before, his neutral expression returned at once.

"We should retire. It's been a long day for you."

"Yes," she agreed, masking her disappointment with a small smile. She realized that she did not want to leave his side just yet. "That it has."

He led her to up the stairs, only pausing at her bedroom door. For a moment, Alethea hoped he might follow her inside. Instead, he bowed slightly.

"Good night, Alethea," he said. "Sleep well."

"Good night, Your Grace."

He lingered a moment, as if trying to decipher her expression, then inclined his head and continued down the hall to his own chambers.

Alethea entered her room and shut the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh.

What a night it had been.

Her body was weary, but her mind and heart spun with all that had happened.

There was no doubt in her heart now, she loved him. And the most traitorous parts of her hoped that beneath all his careful restraint, he was beginning to love her as well.