Page 32

Alethea watched this play out with relief. It was precisely the outcome she had hoped for. Nothing like friendly competition bringing the two brothers together.

On the next round, Alethea overshot a stroke, sending her ball a bit wide of the third wicket. It still placed her clearly ahead of the others.

"This will not do," Oliver said.

On his turn, instead of aiming for his own goal, he strode up and gave Alethea's green ball a decisive whack with his mallet. The ball shot off-course.

Alethea's mouth fell open.

"That's cheating!" she exclaimed, trying to sound offended, though laughter bubbled in her voice.

"It's strategy," Oliver countered with a devilish grin. "All's fair in pall-mall."

Theodore tipped an imaginary hat.

"Allow me to assist as well." Theodore tipped an imaginary hat, and then took his turn and knocked his brother's red ball so that it blocked the hoop Alethea would next need to pass through once she retrieved hers. Between the two of them, they had effectively ruined her advantage.

Alethea narrowed her eyes in playful challenge.

"Oh, have you decided to not spare me at all?" she teased.

"Absolutely not," Oliver confirmed, chuckling.

"We're going to win! We're going to win!" Clara skipped around Alethea.

"Very well. I see how it is. I shall have to win despite your devious methods," Alethea shook her head, feigning exasperation.

Determinedly, she marched off into the clover to find her ball.

It had rolled farther than she thought, nearly to the edge of a thicket of bushes that bordered the meadow.

She located the green sphere nestled against some brush and fetched it back to the proper spot to resume play.

Each time Alethea tried to make progress, one or the other of the brothers found a way to foil her.

They were laughing like children. Oliver would wink at Theodore after a particularly clever shot, and Theodore would respond with mock salute.

In return, Alethea began conspiring with the girls.

If Oliver's ball lay conveniently near, she would encourage Eleanor to accidentally bump it off line.

It was all good fun.

"I surrender, I surrender!" Alethea announced when she could no longer catch up. "I cannot possibly triumph against such foes."

The game was, in truth, close to finished anyway. By some miracle, Theodore and Clara were ahead now, only one arch away from victory. Eleanor and Oliver trailed just behind, and Alethea's green ball…well, it was decidedly last thanks to all the interference.

"Victory is at hand!" Theodore proclaimed. He lined up for the final shot as everyone watched in anticipation. He struck the red ball cleanly through the last hoop and right against the post that marked the end of the course.

"We win!" Clara shouted, jumping up and down. Theodore hoisted her into the air in triumph. "We win, we win!"

"That was awfully sporting of you, to endure our tricks," Oliver said to her, walking closer.

"I shall have my revenge eventually, fear not."

But in earnest, there would be no revenge. She had only wanted to diffuse the tension between the two brothers and it seemed that she had achieved her goal.

"I don't doubt it," Oliver laughed. To her surprise, he raised her captured hand to his lips and pressed a quick kiss there. Alethea felt the awareness of it ripple through her. They exchanged a glance before separating, mindful of the others around.

Daphne strolled over, hands clapping.

"That was the most entertaining pall-mall I've seen in ages. Who knew you were all such schemers?"

"Learned from the best," Theodore quipped, nodding toward Oliver. "You should see him at cards, really. He is ruthless."

"I play fair…mostly," Oliver shrugged his shoulders.

"Remind me never to wager money against you," Ambrose joked as the onlookers joined them on the field. He gave Oliver a friendly clap on the back. It warmed Alethea's heart to see how at ease everyone was. Even Joyce had come closer, the baby in her in arms.

Theodore caught sight of her and his expression lit up.

"Lady Joyce," he said brightly, "it seems my sister and I owe you and your family a debt for allowing us such a delightful afternoon."

Joyce flushed at being directly addressed, but she managed a reply.

"The pleasure is ours. It's been some time since I've seen Alethea laugh so much." She shifted the baby to her other hip, and Theodore's eyes dropped to the child, then back to Joyce's face.

"You sing beautifully," he said, a bit softer. "I heard you earlier with the babe."

Joyce's eyes widened in surprise at the compliment. She opened her mouth, searching for a response. But at that moment, Oliver stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"We should all have a bite to eat, don't you think?" Oliver announced. He looked between Theodore and Joyce, his eyes carrying a hint of caution.

"Yes, luncheon!" Clara cheered, entirely oblivious to the tension. She grabbed Theodore's hand, tugging him along. "Come, Brother."

Joyce lowered her gaze and murmured something about checking on the baby's nap needs. Theodore allowed himself to be dragged off by Clara, though he glanced over his shoulder at Joyce with a touch of regret.

Alethea inwardly sighed. It had been a brief moment, but progress nonetheless—at least they'd exchanged words.

She walked beside Oliver as everyone meandered back to the laid-out picnic. Servants had already set an impressive spread: cold roasted chicken, meat pies, an assortment of cheeses, fresh bread, strawberries and cream, tarts, and biscuits.

Alethea prepared a plate and found a seat on a soft blanket. Before she could settle, Oliver appeared at her side carrying two glasses of chilled cider. He handed one to her and lowered himself to sit close by.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the drink.

This was what she had yearned for. She watched Oliver's face as he gazed over the picnic scene. He looked relaxed, but his jaw tightened slightly whenever his eyes drifted to where Theodore sat with Clara, who happened to be not far from Joyce playing pat-a-cake with the baby.

"They dote on the children, both of them," Alethea observed quietly.

Oliver followed her line of sight. Joyce had set down the baby to toddle, and Theodore had instinctively reached to hold the baby steady when she wobbled. Now it was patting his cheek, making him chuckle while Joyce smiled tentatively at the sweet scene.

"Theodore has always been good with little ones." Oliver hesitated, then added in a lower voice, "He'll make a fine father someday."

Alethea heard the unspoken remainder: if I allow him to be.

She set down her glass and turned to Oliver. "He would," she agreed. "And so would Joyce."

"I know what you're doing," Oliver looked at her, a guarded expression in place.

"What am I doing?" Alethea tilted her head, feigning ignorance.

"Painting a rosy picture of how suitable they both are. How harmless." His tone was resigned. "Alethea…please don't press me on this."

"I'm not trying to press," She bit her lip. "I just… I hate seeing two people suffer when they could be happy together."

Oliver's gray eyes clouded. He glanced to ensure no one was near enough to overhear. Everyone was busy with their own conversations, thankfully.

"Do you truly think they would be happy?" he asked. "After everything? Would it truly suit?"

Carefully, Alethea placed her hand over his, which rested on his knee. She knew that she was going to have to tread very carefully.

"I think," she said gently, "that your brother loves my sister very deeply.

And she, in her guarded way, loves him too.

I have watched them. There is genuine affection and that is not something so easily found.

Surely you, of all people, understand the value of love, even when it comes unexpectedly. "

His gaze searched hers, and she wondered if she had said too much. But it was a chance she was willing to take right now.

"It's not that I don't want Theodore to be happy," He exhaled slowly. "He's my brother and I care for him."

"Then what is it?" she pressed softly. "Should you not overlook the reputational damage, if it means making your brother happy?"

"I should not care, perhaps, but a duke's reputation matters for more than vanity. It impacts influence, the good I can do for my estates and tenants. I cannot have it tarnished by gossip that we are…reckless," he explained to her.

Alethea considered that. She hadn't fully realized how much weight Oliver placed on public perception beyond the immediate scandal.

"Perhaps in time the gossip will die," she ventured. "They needn't marry tomorrow. But if you gave your blessing quietly, say, a year from now…would that be so terrible?"

Oliver looked conflicted and she took this a chance to further drive her point forward.

"You said yourself you don't intend to have children. Which means eventually Theodore will inherit your title and responsibilities. Would it not be better that he settle down with someone he truly loves, who will support him when that day comes?"

A muscle in Oliver's jaw ticked. Theodore would likely become Duke one day if Oliver left no heir. A stable marriage for Theodore would indeed be important.

"I do not question Joyce's character," Oliver said after a moment. "She's a good woman, I can see that. I question Theodore's readiness. And I…perhaps I resented that his rash pursuit of her forced my hand in so many ways."

"You mean the wedding," Alethea said softly.

"I mean everything," he replied, eyes darkening. "One rash decision after another. Always believing the world will bend to his whims."

Alethea opened her mouth, but something about the sharpness of his tone made her hesitate.

"I only think they deserve the chance to choose each other," she tried again, "Just as we were denied that choice."

"We seem to be making do just fine," Oliver turned to her at that.

Something in his tone struck a nerve. Her mouth pressed into a line.

"Forgive me, Your Grace," she said, the title stiff on her tongue, "I thought we had moved past such cold formality."

At that, he faltered. His shoulders dropped slightly. But Alethea had already stood up, feeling foolish now. She could not explain her own emotional reaction, but she could not help herself either. She heard Oliver's footsteps behind her, following her immediately.

"Alethea," he said again, quieter now. "I don't mean to be cruel. It's only… you speak of love so easily, as if it can solve everything. But you've never had to bear the weight of a family name. Of a title that demands more of you than your own heart ever could."

"No," she said, turning to face him. "But I know what it means to be denied choices, and I worry that you are doing the same here."

His face softened at that. A flicker of shame passed through his eyes.

"I—" His voice caught. "That's not what I meant."

"You do not have to protect everyone, Oliver. You cannot control every outcome, no matter how noble your intentions," she went on.

"I only want what is best," he stepped closer to her.

"And what if your brother believes Joyce is what is best?" she challenged.

"I cannot…"

"You're not listening…"

"I am listening!" he snapped, louder than he intended.

Alethea flinched. The change in her was immediate. Her expression froze, a flicker of instinct flashing across her face before she caught it. She said nothing, but folded her arms around herself.

"I am sorry," he said immediately. "I did not mean to raise my voice."

"It's all right," she said quickly, though her voice was quieter now. "I told you, it was only a reflex. I'm not afraid of you."

He took another step closer, slowly. The tall hedge beside them blocked the view from the rest of the field.

"You would hate me," he said, his words a whisper, "if you knew the things I imagined doing to the man who hurt you. The thoughts I had… things even God would not forgive."

"But I don't hate you," she said gently. The admission had sent a shiver down her spine.

"I would have torn him apart with my bare hands," he admitted, "I would have destroyed anything that threatened you. Every time I think of this, I have the same anger as before."

"Both of us cannot be angry," she admitted. "One of us must be the calm one."

"Then it will have to be you."

Her hand came up to his cheek without thinking. And then he kissed her.

Alethea had not been expecting it, but she could not pull away either. Their families were not too far away but right now, she did not care if anyone saw her. It was a gentle kiss and it was over soon after it started.

Both of them stared at each other, breathless.

"I shouldn't have…" he began.

"I know," she said quickly, swallowing hard.

"We should return before someone comes looking. It is getting dark anyway, and we should be heading back home anyway."

She nodded once. But neither of them moved. Something important had just changed between the both of them.