Page 9

"Will you come riding with us tomorrow, Your Grace? We go most mornings. Oliver – er, His Grace – usually leads us, but he has been busy this week," Clara chimed in.

At the mention of Oliver, Alethea's stomach gave a little jump.

They had been married only a short time, and she still felt a jolt of uncertainty whenever she thought of him.

He had been polite since bringing her to his home, but she could not yet read his moods or truly know his temper.

The idea of disappointing him terrified her, though he'd given her no specific cause for fear.

Clara's question hung in the air. Alethea realized the girl was waiting eagerly.

"Riding? I do know how to ride, in theory," Alethea said. The nunnery had only a few old mares for errands, and she'd ridden rarely. "If His Grace does not object, I would enjoy accompanying you."

"He won't object," Eleanor assured her kindly. "Our brother is more than happy to see us all getting along."

Alethea returned her smile, hoping Eleanor was right. She realized she should try to trust in Oliver's goodwill more. He had, after all, rescued her reputation and given her his name. Surely he meant to care for her, not to harm her.

And yet, I barely know what kind of husband he will be, she reflected. The nuns had taught her to be an obedient wife, but they hadn't truly explained what to expect of a husband's behavior.

Suddenly Clara gasped, interrupting Alethea's thoughts.

"Oh no, my dress!"

Alethea turned to see Clara twisting to inspect a large green grass stain smeared across the back of her skirt. Clara's eyes went wide, half amused, half worried.

"The governess will scold me for certain," she lamented.

Eleanor rose and came over.

"It's not so bad. A soak will take it out." But she bit her lip. "We should get you changed before anyone sees, though. It does look quite messy."

Alethea's momentary ease vanished, replaced by a spike of alarm. Clara's white dress had a vivid green stain.

The last thing she wished for was for Clara to get into trouble for staining her nice dress.

Alethea shot to her feet, trying to keep a calm demeanor despite her racing mind.

"Yes, let us return to the house straightaway," she said. She reached down and helped pull Clara up from the grass, brushing bits of green lawn from the girl's dress as best she could. "No one needs to know about this little stain. We'll clean you up before your governess even notices, all right?"

Clara giggled, oblivious to Alethea's true anxiety. "All right," she agreed, brightening at the prospect of avoiding a scolding.

Eleanor gave Alethea a searching look.

"Truly, it's not such a terrible spot. Our brother won't…"

"Better safe than sorry," Alethea murmured. She couldn't bear the idea of Oliver hearing that under her care Clara had come to any mischief. And worse, she did not wish for Clara to get punished over it. If taking extra measures was what avoided it, then that shall be what must be done.

They made their way back toward the manor through a side door that led into a rear hallway.

Luckily, most of the household seemed occupied elsewhere at this hour.

The girls tiptoed behind her. Upon reaching the back stairs, Alethea guided the sisters up toward their chambers.

A housemaid encountered them on the landing, her eyes widening at Clara's grass-stained attire.

Before the maid could curtsy or comment, Alethea stepped forward.

"Please fetch a basin of cool water and some soap to Lady Clara's room at once. And say nothing of this to anyone, if you please."

The maid blinked, then nodded, catching on. "

Yes, Your Grace, of course." She hurried off on her errand.

In Clara's bedroom, Alethea helped the girl out of her soiled frock. And soon after, the maid arrived with water and soap, and together they dabbed at the stain.

"It's lifting," Alethea said with great relief, the color returning to her face.

"I'll have this sent to the laundry with a note to be extra careful," the maid told Alethea quietly.

"Thank you," Alethea breathed. It seemed the mini crisis was averted.

Clara flung her arms around Alethea in a gesture that was most unexpected.

"Thank you, sister," she exclaimed.

Startled by the embrace, Alethea froze for a second before patting the girl's back gently. Being called ‘sister' warmed her heart unexpectedly.

"It was nothing," she said softly. "Perhaps next time we play, we shall lay a blanket down if we plan to sit on the grass, hmm?"

Clara pulled back and nodded earnestly.

"Truly, no harm done. You needn't worry so much," Eleanor added.

Alethea managed a shaky smile. How could she explain it? The girls had grown up in a loving, gentle home; she could tell by their easy confidence. They have not walked on eggshells all their lives, she thought.

"I'm just glad we avoided any upset," Alethea said simply. "Now, I shall leave you two to prepare for dinner. Thank you for the lovely afternoon."

Eleanor walked Alethea to the door.

"We enjoyed it too. And... we're happy that you are here with us," she said sincerely.

Emotion tugged at Alethea's chest.

"That means a great deal to me," she replied, equally earnest. "I hope I will be the sister you deserve."

With a final warm smile, she left the girls and retreated to her own chambers to calm her nerves before the evening. As she went, she silently prayed that Oliver would never give her cause to fear him, and she chastised herself for being so easily panicked.

He is not like them, she repeated in her mind but it would take her more convincing.

"Give me your best shot."

The duke had come out to meet his dear friend, Alexander. He had hoped to the spend the remainder of the evening doing any activity that he loved greatly.

Boxing.

The two men circled one another, as they traded blows. Oliver drove a right jab toward Alexander's midsection with more force than usual, causing his friend to grunt.

"Steady on," Alexander laughed, dodging the next swing. "At this rate I shall return home with more bruises than I had hoped to incur. It seems that marriage has certainly put some fire in your blood."

Oliver decided to ignore the comment.

Forgive me. I was distracted." He stepped back, lowering his fists to signal a pause. In truth, he had been channeling his frustration. Physical exertion usually cleared his mind, but today it did little to soothe him.

"Dare I hope that means your thoughts were on your lovely new bride?" Alexander shot Oliver a teasing grin.

"Not in the way you imply, you rogue," Oliver rolled his eyes. "My thoughts were on responsibilities. There is much to do these days."

"Is that what they're calling pretty young wives now?"

Oliver cast him a warning look, though a corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

"Mind yourself."

"Truly though," Alexander went on more seriously, "the news of your sudden marriage gave everyone in the club a start. One day you were London's most elusive bachelor, the next – married in the country with little fanfare. You must tell me at least something to satisfy my curiosity."

Oliver tensed slightly. He had expected inquiries; he just hadn't anticipated how reluctant he would feel to discuss it.

He considered his words carefully before speaking.

Alexander was a trusted friend, yet even he didn't know the full story.

Very few did, thankfully. But Alexander was aware of Theodore's impulsive nature, so it should come as a great surprise to him.

"It was a matter of necessity," Oliver said at last. "There was a situation involving my brother that threatened to become a scandal. I intervened in the only way that could protect the lady's honor and my family's name."

Alexander's eyebrows shot up. "

So the rumors of Theodore causing mischief were true, then." He shook his head. "What did he do? Actually, let me try to guess: did he attempt to elope with the girl?"

Oliver's jaw tightened at the memory of that night two weeks past.

"Something along those lines," he muttered. "I did what was necessary. Theodore had gotten himself in over his head. The young lady was vulnerable. If I hadn't stepped in, both of them would have been ruined. As it stands, an honorable marriage has put things right."

Alexander studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Spoken like a true duke, honor and duty above all." There was respect in his tone, but also a note of curiosity. "And how does the lady feel about all this?"

Oliver exhaled, his breath still slightly ragged from exertion.

"She has been... extremely gracious. Given the upheaval in her life, she has shown nothing but obedience." He paused, frowning faintly as he replayed recent moments in his mind. "In fact, I would argue that she is too obedient on occasion, at least that is what the staff has told me."

His friend looked surprised.

"Too obedient? Most men would count themselves lucky. But I suspect there is a story behind that comment," Alexander said, his curiosity out in full display now.

"I hardly know the story myself," he admitted. "Alethea was raised at a nunnery from childhood and has only recently been reunited with her family. I knew little of her until this all occurred."

"Do you know the name?"

"Of the nunnery?" Oliver racked his brain. "Saint Beatrice, I believe. I got some information on her, during our engagement period."

"It's funny you mention Saint Beatrice's. When I heard who your bride was, I recalled some odd gossip about that place," Alexander said.

"What sort of gossip?" Oliver's eyes narrowed.

Alexander shrugged lightly.

"My aunt in London is acquainted with a Lady Winslow, who is a patroness of several charities.

According to their chatter, there were whispers that Saint Beatrice's wasn't merely a pious refuge for orphans.

Some say the girls there were kept under excessively strict control, perhaps even mistreated. "