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A lethea's spent most of her time tossing in bed. But when she woke the next morning, she told herself that she would not spend her time wallowing as she had the night before.

It was simply a waste of her time, and to waste time was to be ungrateful of the life that had been given to you.

It was her first full day as duchess, after all. And it had begun with an intimidating tour of her new home: the kitchens, the stillroom, the linen closets, and now the endless accounts of a great house.

"Here we have the household expenditures for last month, Your Grace," Mrs. Pritchard, the house keeper, explained in a respectful tone. She slid the ledger slightly towards Alethea. "I will, of course, be happy to continue managing the details, but you may wish to look them over."

"Of course," Alethea replied softly. She stepped closer to the table and bent her head over the ledger.

Alethea's upbringing in the secluded nunnery had not prepared her for managing an aristocratic household. She ran a fingertip down the column, pretending to study it, though the figures made little sense to her.

Mrs. Pritchard waited patiently. The housekeeper assumed a new Duchess might need some guidance, but Alethea feared how obvious her ignorance must be. If Oliver – His Grace , she corrected herself even in thought – discovered how inept she was at these duties, would he be displeased?

The mere idea made her throat tighten, even though she was still cross with him.

She inhaled and forced a polite smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Pritchard. Perhaps you could summarize the important points for me? I admit it is a great deal to take in at once."

"Certainly, Your Grace. To start, the household has been running smoothly. The expenditures last month were a little higher due to an event that His Grace hosted. We had extra guests and charitable donations. But nothing out of the ordinary."

As the housekeeper spoke, Alethea listened intently. She nodded when appropriate, trying to memorize each detail. It was overwhelming, but she was determined to do her best.

At one point, Mrs. Pritchard mentioned the staff by name and role: the butler, Mr. Hawkins, who oversaw the footmen; Cook, who ruled the kitchen; a score of maids, grooms, and gardeners.

Alethea repeated each name quietly, committing them to memory. The idea that she was now Duchess of this grand household felt unreal.

I must not disappoint him. The thought repeated like a mantra. Oliver had married her under abrupt circumstances, and she was grateful, he had saved her from scandal. The least she could do was be a dutiful wife and duchess. If she failed... well, she did not wish to think of that consequence.

By late morning, they had finished reviewing the basics. Mrs. Pritchard closed the ledger with a reassuring smile.

"That is enough for today, I think. You have made an excellent start, Your Grace. In time, it will all become second nature."

Alethea managed a small, genuine smile in return. "I am indebted to your guidance, Mrs. Pritchard. Thank you for your patience."

The housekeeper gave a slight curtsy.

"It is my pleasure, Your Grace. I have served this household for twenty years and I am at your disposal. If ever there is something you require or wish to change, you need only tell me."

"Your loyalty does you credit," Alethea said. The formal words of appreciation came easily, drilled into her by years of etiquette lessons taught at the nunnery for the day she might marry. "I shall certainly ask if any questions arise."

Mrs. Pritchard hesitated, then added in a kindly tone, "And, Your Grace, do remember you need not do everything at once. We all understand you are new to this role."

"You are very kind. I will keep that in mind."

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Before either woman could respond, the door cracked open and a young girl's face peeked in.

"Pardon, Mrs. Pritchard," the girl said quickly, then her eyes darted to Alethea. "Your Grace. May we borrow you?"

Alethea recognized her as Clara, one of Oliver's younger sisters. Clara was but seven years old, if she recalled correctly. Behind Clara hovered another girl – Eleanor, the twelve year old.

Mrs. Pritchard started to frown at the impropriety, but Alethea raised a hand lightly.

"It's quite all right." She turned to the girls with a gentle smile. "Good morning, ladies."

"Good morning, Alethea—I mean, Your Grace." She stumbled over the title slightly. "We were hoping you might join us in the garden. It's a lovely day, and we've finished our studies early."

Clara bounced on her toes.

"We want to show you the newly bloomed roses and perhaps play a game, if you please."

Alethea blinked in surprise. In truth, the idea of a reprieve was welcome. But she hesitated. Play a game? She had scarcely played as a child. Moreover, was it dignified for a duchess to romp about? She cast a questioning glance at Mrs. Pritchard.

The housekeeper smiled subtly.

"The young ladies have the right of it, Your Grace. The sun is out and it would do you good to take some air. The household matters will keep until later."

Relieved at this sanction, Alethea nodded. It occurred only to her as an afterthought that she need not seek permission in the first place.

"Very well. I shall be happy to join you." She looked down at her attire, which was the simplest dress that she could find in her closet that morning. It would serve well enough for a stroll in the garden. "What did you have in mind?"

Clara pushed the door open wider in excitement.

"We were thinking of a game of graces, Your Grace. Have you played it before? We have hoops and sticks ready on the lawn."

"Graces…" Alethea echoed, trying to recall if she knew it. She had heard of young ladies tossing a ribboned hoop with rods to train elegance, but she had never taken part.

It is a ladylike game, she reassured herself, much better than, say, playing tag or climbing trees.

"I have not had the pleasure," she admitted. "But I would be delighted to learn."

Clara beamed and Eleanor clapped her hands lightly.

"Wonderful. We'll teach you, it's easy," Eleanor said.

With that, Alethea excused herself from Mrs. Pritchard's company and followed the two girls.

When they reached the garden, Alethea noticed two long sticks and a small wooden hoop decorated with pink and yellow ribbons lay waiting. She realized this must be the equipment for the game of graces. The sisters had clearly prepared for this.

Clara darted to pick up the hoop and sticks.

"You use two sticks to toss the hoop to the other player," she explained eagerly, handing Alethea two slender rods of polished wood. "And the other tries to catch it. It's supposed to make us graceful, but it's also quite fun."

Eleanor stood a few paces apart on the grass.

"Clara, let Her Grace have the first turn. She's never played before."

Clara handed the hoop to Alethea with an excited grin.

"You hold it like this." The girl positioned the hoop over the crossed sticks in Alethea's hands.

Alethea mimicked her, biting her lip in concentration.

"Like this?" She held one stick in each hand, the hoop resting around both near their tips.

"Yes, that's perfect," Eleanor encouraged. "Now, pull the sticks apart quickly to launch the hoop toward me."

Taking a breath, Alethea did as instructed. She flicked her wrists outward. The hoop sailed clumsily through the air. Eleanor darted to catch it but missed as it bounced on the grass.

"Oh! I'm sorry, my aim…" Alethea's cheeks colored.

"Not at all," the girl said cheerfully, already retrieving the hoop. "No one is good at first. Try again."

Clara giggled.

"My first time, I sent the hoop straight into the fountain. The governess was very cross because I soaked myself fetching it."

Alethea couldn't help a small laugh picturing the misadventure. She found herself relaxing slightly.

"Well then, I don't feel so bad."

They continued the game, taking turns. Soon Alethea got the hang of it. She managed to catch the flying hoop a few times. Clara, not content to watch quietly, tried to snatch the hoop mid-air.

"Clara, you monkey, you'll trip," the elder sister scolded lightly as her younger one twirled under a toss.

Clara only laughed. Alethea watched the sisters' playful exchange with a mix of joy and wistfulness.

She had grown away from her sisters, though she did have friends at the nunnery.

She missed them dearly. So, for a short while, she felt as though their absence was being replaced by these young girls.

After several rounds, Alethea's arms were slightly tired from catching and throwing.

The three decided to take a rest under the large tree that stood at the corner of the garden.

Clara flopped onto the grass without a care.

Eleanor sat more primly on a little bench, though she soon loosened and stretched her legs out.

Alethea remained standing at first. It wouldn't do to crease her gown by sitting on the ground.

.. but Clara's carefree sprawl looked inviting.

Finally, with a quick glance around to ensure no servants were watching to gossip, Alethea lowered herself onto the grass as well, tucking her skirts carefully around her.

"This is lovely," she said softly, almost to herself. She realized she had been holding herself taut with worry since her marriage, and for the first time she was uncoiling, if only a little.

"We're so glad you came outside with us. We hoped to make you feel at home. It must be quite an adjustment, becoming our brother's duchess so suddenly." There was gentle curiosity in Eleanor's tone.

Alethea nodded, her fingers plucking unconsciously at a blade of grass.

"It has been a new experience for me," She chose her words carefully. She did not wish to reveal how truly unprepared she felt, nor dwell on the events that brought her here. "I am grateful, however. Everyone has been most welcoming."