"That is very noble of you to say. But one cannot help but make that deduction based on the reaction your brother seems to be having to me."
"You should not take this personally," Theodore replied.
"Enough," Oliver raised his hand, stepping into the conversation. He had enough of his brother making the situation worse. With one long look at Theodore, he sighed and then spoke again.
"I will marry her."
The room fell silent. Alethea wondered for a moment whether she had imagined the words. She watched as the Duke stared down his younger brother.
"You can't possibly mean that," Theodore blurted.
"I can," Oliver said. "And I do."
Alethea's fingers curled against her sides. It was a strange thing to be spoken about like one was not present. A brewing scandal that must be adequately dealt with, but not a person.
"You do not even know her."
"She is standing right here," Alethea cut in, feeling herself grow annoyed.
Both men turned to her then, as though reminded she had not ceased to exist once their brotherly argument had begun. She looked at the duke.
"I do not require rescue, Your Grace," she said evenly. In earnest, she had dealt with far worse in her life. This scandal, if it becomes one at all, would be a mere inconvenience if anything.
"No, you might not. But the situation does. May I?" he asked, extending a hand.
Alethea stared at it. She should have refused. But then something inside of her compelled her to behave differently. She placed her palm in his.
He said nothing more to Theodore, who stood frozen by the fireplace, pale and stunned. Instead, Oliver turned and led her from the room. Alethea followed, her feet moving of their own accord. Her thoughts had long since stopped making sense. When they reached the carriage, he turned to her again.
"I will take you home now," he said. "The house will be quiet, and if we are fortunate, no one will see you arrive."
"And if they do?" She swallowed.
"Then," he said simply, "I will do what I said. I will come to your house tomorrow and ask for your hand."
She blinked at him, not sure whether to laugh or cry.
"You would marry me simply because of this?"
"I would marry you because it is the only honorable path left."
"And what if I refuse?" she asked.
"Then I shall have to respect you for it," he replied. "Though I'll admit, I would prefer you did not."
His answer was not what she had been expecting. Despite his anger, he still seemed to be giving her a choice. It made her feel seen, even if in a small way.
"And what," she asked softly, "would I be agreeing to, exactly?"
"If you say yes," he said, "you will have a title, a home, and the protection of my name. You will want for nothing."
"I never wanted for much."
"Then you shall have more than you expect."
"And what will you want from me?"
His gaze didn't waver. "Only that you stand beside me. The rest we will learn. You may take your leave now."
