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" W as he unkind to you?"

The question fell into the quiet like a pebble into still water.

Alethea looked up from her teacup, startled to find all her sisters watching her with identical expressions of careful concern.

She had arrived only a few days ago, and this was the first time that they were all gathered together like this.

"No," she said at once, her voice steadier than she felt. "No, he is never unkind."

"Then what is it? You have not looked yourself since you arrived." Joyce asked, worry creasing her forehead.

Alethea glanced down, tracing a fingertip along the rim of her cup. The truth pressed against her throat, but she could not quite bring herself to let it out.

"I am merely tired," she murmured. "It has been…a trying few days."

"You have scarcely eaten anything," Daphne gave a soft sigh of sympathy. "It is no wonder that you are tired."

"I am not very hungry," Alethea admitted. She set the cup aside, needing to free her hands of it. "Truly, there is nothing for you to worry over."

"Forgive us if we find that difficult," Felicity said gently. "You left his house without a word, and now you will not look any of us in the eye. If you are in trouble…"

"I am not," Alethea broke in. "Please, believe me. He has never done me harm."

She could feel them all studying her, weighing her words. But it was the truth, Oliver had never raised a hand or voice against her. The injury he had dealt her was of a quieter sort and only had to do with her feelings.

"Then…are you unhappy with him?" Daphne cleared her throat delicately.

Alethea opened her mouth, but no easy answer came. Was she unhappy? She did not think so. She missed him, but she also could not forget the way he had looked at her when he spoke of children. As though he was already bracing himself for her disappointment.

"I…do not know," she admitted finally. The confession made her cheeks burn. "I think I only needed time to think."

"You have every right to that," Joyce's expression softened.

Daphne reached across the little table between them and laid a hand over hers.

"You needn't pretend with us," she said, her voice low. "We are your sisters. We only want to help."

Alethea tried to smile. It wobbled, but she held it.

"I know. And I am grateful. Believe me, please."

"If it is too soon to speak of it," Felicity hesitated. "we will not press you further."

"I would rather not explain everything," Alethea said quietly. "Some things ought to stay between a husband and wife."

"Very well." Felicity inclined her head, accepting that with reluctance.

They let the subject drift after that. Daphne poured more tea and coaxed her to take a slice of cake.

But beneath it all, Alethea felt their concern bubbling.

She tried to be grateful for it, but part of her wished she could simply disappear into the upholstery and be spared any more gentle questions.

A knock interrupted them, followed by the door creaking open.

"Mama?"

"Come in, love," Daphne looked over, her face brightening.

Two children sidled into the room. They paused by Daphne's chair, eyeing Alethea with undisguised curiosity.

"Would you like to meet your Aunt Alethea properly?" Daphne prompted.

Alethea's throat went tight. She managed a nod, her hands folded in her lap.

The young girl edged closer, studying her.

"You look sad, Aunt Alethea," she announced gravely.

"Don't say that," Daphne chided gently, but Alethea found herself smiling in spite of everything.

"It is quite all right," she said. She reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind the girl's ear. "I am only thinking a great deal. I suppose that is not good for you, either."

The little boy peered up at her, clutching a small toy to his chest. "Are you staying with us now?"

"For a little while," Alethea said softly.

The young girl considered this, then reached out and placed her small hand over Alethea's.

"You don't have to be sad," she said solemnly. "Mama says our house is very cheerful."

"I believe her," Alethea laughed then, though her eyes stung.

The children climbed up onto Daphne's lap, and soon the conversation turned to gentler things that did not involve her rather sad personal life.

As she watched Daphne interact with her children, she thought of Clara and Eleanor. And then like clockwork, her mind went to Oliver. How careful he was with the people he loved.

And she thought of how he had looked at her that night in the kitchen. He had told her that he loves her, but then had acted the opposite. It still did not make any sense to her.

The ache in her chest deepened.

"Would you like to hold him?" Daphne asked gently, drawing her from her thoughts.

"Oh," Alethea said, startled. "I, if he does not mind."

The young boy did not mind in the least. He squirmed into her lap with the easy trust of a child who had never learned to fear disappointment. Alethea wrapped an arm around him.

For one moment, she let herself imagine what life would be like for her if she had a child of her own. She imagined that she and Oliver might find their way back to something better.

Her throat tightened. She bent her head, pressing a kiss to his soft hair to hide the sudden prickle of tears.

"You are quiet," Daphne observed gently.

"I am only…remembering," Alethea replied, being as honest as she could.

Daphne did not ask what she meant. She only reached over, took her free hand, and squeezed.

"You don't have to decide everything today," she murmured.

"I know," Alethea whispered.

Alethea kept her eyes fixed on the little boy in her lap. She was happy to keep herself distracted, but as fate would have it, something happened to divert her attention elsewhere.

There was a knock at the door.

All her sisters seemed to hold their breath at once.

Felicity stood, smoothing her skirts. "I will see who it is," she said in a calm voice.

Alethea's mind reeled in a myriad different direction. Would it be too foolish to think that Oliver had come to see her?

Did she even want that to happen?

No one spoke while she was gone. Daphne's hand was still on hers, and she had gently sent the child away, sensing that a more serious matter had now appeared.

Alethea strained her ears to hear the voices that appeared from the hallway. Her heart stuttered. She didn't need to hear the words to know who it was.

Daphne looked over at her, her expression soft.

"If you don't want to see him, you don't have to."

Alethea swallowed hard. She was not sure yet.

Just then, Felicity came back into the room, her mouth drawn in a tight line.

"It's the Duke," she said quietly. "He says he must speak with you."

"He must?" Joyce let out an exasperated breath and then looked at Alethea. "I am not sure if he gets to make demands like this. I do not know what has happened between the two of them, but it is clear that Alethea is upset with him."

"What did you tell him?" Alethea lifted her eyes to Felicity's face.

"That you were not receiving callers," Felicity said, folding her hands together. "He said he would wait. All day, if necessary."

The ache in Alethea's chest turned to something more urgent. She pressed a hand over her heart, as if she could calm it by force.

"Do you want us to send him away?" Daphne asked softly.

Alethea shook her head once, then again. She felt everyone's eyes on her, waiting, and she wished more than anything that she could disappear.

"I don't know what I want," she whispered. Her eyes were burning with tears now.

"He has already hurt you," Joyce said, deducing the situation on her own, "He can wait until you are ready."

But the thought of him standing in the entryway, refusing to go, was too much. She couldn't bear it.

"I can't," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't face him right now."

Daphne reached for her, but Alethea was already rising.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "You really must excuse me."

"Alethea, wait.. " Felicity began, but she was already crossing the room.

The stairs blurred a little as she climbed them. When she reached the top, she paused, pressing a hand over her eyes, willing herself to steady her breathing. From below, she could hear low voices again. Her sisters were speaking to Oliver in the hall.

No. She could not stand to see him now. Her heart would not allow it.

And then she slipped into the nearest bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. She turned the key in the lock, her hand lingering there a moment longer than necessary.

She pressed her back to the door and closed her eyes.

She knew she was being a coward. She knew it, and still she could not make herself go back down those stairs.

Because if she saw him, she wasn't sure whether she would be able to stay angry. And perhaps it was better to put them distance between them now, when she still had the chance.

Alethea had never felt so tired, and yet so incapable of sleep. She lay in the narrow guest bed, staring up at the ceiling. The rain had started in earnest an hour ago, tapping at the windows.

She turned her head on the pillow and watched the beads of water racing down the glass. It should have been a soothing sound, but all she could think of was him.

Was he still standing out there, just beyond the front steps, as he had been all evening?

The image lodged itself in her mind.

It was hard for her to wrap her head around the idea. What an entirely reckless thing to do, to stand out there when no one was coming out to see him? It was the sort of unreasonable thing she had never imagined him doing. And that was precisely why she could not stop thinking of it.

A quiet knock pulled her from her thoughts. Perhaps she was not the only one who could not get any sleep tonight.

"Alethea?" Daphne's voice was muffled but gentle. "May I come in?"

"Yes." She closed her eyes briefly, then pushed herself up to sit.