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" Y ou have been staring."

Felicity said the words to Alethea in a whisper. Who in turn was startled and turned to her sister. "Have I been, really?"

Felicity arched a brow in a manner that motherly. "You have not taken your eyes off them since we walked in."

"Well, I suppose you cannot blame me for that. It is finally their big day, and just will you look at them? Alethea said and inclined her head toward the center of the ballroom where Joyce and Theodore were dancing. "Have you ever seen her so happy?"

"No," Felicity admitted. She was quiet for a moment. "I do not believe I have ever seen either of them look so settled."

"It suits her," Alethea's gaze lingered on Joyce's face.

"It suits them both," Daphne said as she joined them. "I am glad that they got the ending that they deserved."

"It was not without a fight, I assure you," Alethea smiled. Finally, Theodore's efforts had paid off and Oliver had agreed to their match some weeks ago. Today was the day of their engagement ceremony.

"Then you see how love is worth the fight," Daphne smiled. "Of course, you already know that, I should presume. Love looks lovely on you as well. I think you have done nothing but smile all evening."

"I suppose I have," Alethea tried to look reproachful but failed. The last few months had been nothing short of bliss for Alethea.

She had finally reached a point with Oliver where they did not hide their love for one another.

"Then we are all precisely where we should be," Daphne's smile gentled.

Felicity looked across the hall, her expression hard to read.

"It is a rare thing," she said, "to see so many people so plainly in love."

Alethea's chest filled with something warm. It had been so long since they were all gathered in one place like this, so long since she could look around a room and feel that everyone she cared for was safe.

Her gaze drifted then to the tall figure standing near the fireplace, listening with polite attention to an elderly dowager who had cornered him for conversation.

Oliver.

He looked at ease, for once. His posture was relaxed, and his mouth curved in the faintest of smiles.

"You know," Felicity began, her voice thoughtful in a way that made Alethea turn at once, "I think I have misjudged him."

"Who?" Alethea asked, though she already knew.

"Your duke," Felicity said, lifting her chin toward Oliver. "I think, perhaps, I spent too long believing the worst of him."

"You were not alone in that," Daphne glanced between them, her smile widening. "I suppose we were all a bit cautious at first."

"He is better than I expected," Felicity continued, and when she looked at Alethea, her expression was sincere. "He is better than I was willing to see."

Alethea swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat.

"He is," she said quietly. "I am glad you finally see him for the person that he is."

Alethea could not reply properly. How was she meant to explain all that he was? The words would fail her, surely. She only reached out and caught her sister's hand, squeezing it once before releasing her.

"Go on," Felicity murmured, giving her a knowing look. "He has been watching you for ten minutes and is trying not to seem impatient."

With a flutter of nerves she did not bother to hide, Alethea turned and made her way through the small knots of guests until she reached him. He saw her before she had taken three steps, and something in his expression eased at the sight of her.

"My love," he greeted, dipping his head with a formality she knew was mostly for show.

"Your Grace," she returned, and let the corner of her mouth curve.

The dowager took one look between them and excused herself with a sly smile. When they were alone, Oliver reached for her hand. His fingers brushed over her wrist.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"Yes," she said honestly. "Are you?"

"I am," he said, and she believed it. He looked around the room, his gaze lingering on Theodore and Joyce as they turned slowly across the polished dance floor. "I have not seen my brother so content since we were children."

"He seems very sure of her," Alethea said softly.

"He is," Oliver agreed, his voice low. "He told me once that he would never love anyone else the way he loves her. I thought it was nonsense at the time. But I was quite wrong."

"I am glad you see it now."

He smiled down at her, the sort of unguarded, almost boyish smile she had once thought he did not know how to give.

"You have taught me many things," he said. "In earnest, if it had not been for you, I perhaps would have never seen reason when it came to Joyce and Theodore."

Alethea blushed at the compliment. It felt greater than anything that he could say about her appearance.

"That means a great deal to me," she admitted. "But I should advise you against saying that to Theodore."

"Why?" Oliver grinned. "If anything, it would make him like you even more so than he currently does, which is already a great deal."

"Well, I would instead like him to think that it was his own doing that convinced you," Alethea said.

"Never taking any credit," Oliver shook his head, smiling. "You make even the humblest of men appear prideful."

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Are you two quite finished?"

The voice came from just behind them, and Alethea turned to find Theodore standing there, Joyce tucked against his side. They had just finished their dance.

"For the moment," Oliver said dryly. "How is the bride and groom to be?"

Theodore's grin was wicked.

"Happier than you can imagine," Theodore said, smiling genuinely now. "Imagine brother, what you would have robbed me of if you had not allowed for this to happen."

"I suppose I was a bit difficult," Oliver shrugged his shoulders, and passed Alethea a knowing smile.

"Indeed, that is one way to put it," Theodore shook his head and then turned to Alethea.

"He spent weeks pretending he did not mind.

All the while giving me speeches about responsibility and duty and the honor of the family name.

In fact, I was rather intimidated the first time he summoned me to his study to tell me that he has decided to give me his blessing. "

"Must we recount this now?" Oliver shot his brother a look.

"Yes," Theodore said, beaming. "Because now you must admit you were wrong."

Oliver sighed, but Alethea saw the fondness in his gaze.

"I was wrong," he said, plainly.

Theodore threw his head back and laughed so loudly that several nearby guests turned to look.

"Well," Joyce said, her smile softening, "I suppose it is only fair to say you were also right in having your reservations. I, for one, do not hold it against you."

She was addressing Oliver now.

"You are kind to me," Oliver nodded. Over the last few months, his relationship with Alethea's sisters had grown, particularly with Joyce whom he now regarded as a good match for Theodore.

"You make my brother better," Oliver said to her.

"And he does the same for me," Joyce said without hesitation.

Theodore cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"I refuse to become sentimental in public," he declared. "Really, Joyce. We should greet some other people. I only stopped so I could tease my dear brother."

"Too late," Alethea teased, and he rolled his eyes but did not argue.

Joyce slipped her hand into his, and they drifted back towards the other guests.

Alethea turned back to Oliver.

"A match well made," she admitted.

"Agreed," Oliver said.

The party was still in full bloom. But Alethea decided that she had enough of the crowds. In earnest, she craved a moment alone with her husband.

Of course, this was usually true for her. Not a single hour passed when she did not crave his presence, sometimes when he was still there by her side.

She understood now that love really was meant to be. In fact, understood would be putting it rather plainly. She lived through the reality of it every single day and it only seemed to get better.

Alethea slipped her hand into Oliver's and nodded toward the grand staircase.

"Shall we steal away for a moment?" she asked softly.

"Already?" His eyes warmed as he bent his head closer.

"I believe we have earned it."

He did not argue. Instead, he guided her through the crowd, pausing just long enough to murmur polite farewells to the guests they passed. Alethea caught Felicity's eye across the room and saw her sister's mouth curve in a knowing smile. They reached the corridor, passing by the nursery.

"Shall we look in on her?" Oliver asked.

"Yes, please. She was most upset that she could not attend the festivities," Alethea commented.

"When she is old enough," Oliver nodded. "Eleanor is already of age that she can attend such functions."

"Well, it's only a few years until Clara will be as well," Alethea nodded.

They entered the nursery together. Clara lay curled beneath the covers, her dark hair spilling over the pillow. In sleep, she looked impossibly small and at peace.

A rush of warmth crossed Alethea at the sight.

Oliver crossed to the bed first. He sank to sit on the edge of the mattress and brushed a stray lock of hair back from Clara's cheek.

"She is sleeping soundly," he whispered, only watched the rise and fall of Clara's breathing for a moment.

At last, Oliver leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Clara's forehead.

"Sleep well, my love," he whispered.

"Sweet dreams," Alethea kissed her cheek in turn.

They stood together then, their hands brushing as they stepped back from the bed. Clara shifted but did not wake. Oliver quietly pulled the door closed. He did not let go of her hand as they returned to the corridor.

Alethea turned her face toward his shoulder and breathed him in. When she lifted her gaze, he was watching her in a way that always made her feel as if she were the only person in the world.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?" she asked, taken aback slightly. "It was not me who put Clara to bed."