His warmth disappeared from her fingers and she was guided inside the carriage. When it began to move, Alethea stared out the window, her hand still resting where his had been.
Even if she tried to make sense of the last twenty four hours of her life, she would not find herself able to. So much had happened. She always knew that her return to society wouldbe eventful. But to this degree? She could have never even fathomed.
CHAPTER 3
"You look beautiful. Really, truly beautiful."
"Thank you," Alethea said, offering the smallest of smiles. It didn't quite reach her eyes, but she tried.
The day of her wedding had finally arrived. It had been a whirlwind, from start to finish. The duke had kept his promise and arrived to ask for her hand the very next day. She had agreed.
"You are very calm," Daphne noted. "It is rather unusual. I am still trying to understand the manner in which you react to things, and learn from it, too. A lot of young women are a nervous wreck or just very anxious."
"I see no use in either," Alethea said. "It changes nothing."
"Still, I can't help but feel this is happening too quickly," Joyce said softly. "You haven't known him long."
"I would have had to marry at some point," Alethea said. "Better a duke who seems kind than a stranger with worse prospects."
"That's not the same as marrying for affection," Felicity pointed out.
"No one forced me," Alethea said. "He asked, and I accepted. That is the entire story."
"Is it, though?" Daphne raised a brow. "Because the story he told us is somewhat different."
"Oh?" Alethea felt her curious perk up. She had not spoken to the duke since that day, nor did she have much idea of what he had told her family. The only thing she knew that they had been worried for her when she returned home early the next morning after being taken and that she had to offer them a great deal of reassurance in return for them to calm own again.
"He said he had seen you with us at a walk," Joyce said, hesitating. "That he'd been taken with you since then, but didn't know how to approach you properly."
"Indeed," Felicity added. "He said Theodore only wished to assist by creating an opportunity."
"Yes. That is what he told me as well," Alethea looked down at her hands.
"It seems very romantic," Joyce said, unsure. "In a chaotic sort of way."
"It isn't so unusual," Alethea replied. "There are stranger courtships, I'm certain."
"You're being awfully agreeable about all this," Daphne said. "And I don't mean to sound suspicious, but it is perhaps not the reaction I had expected. Especially as you had been so hesitant about being reintroduced to society."
"I simply don't see the point of fretting," Alethea said. "It happened. I cannot change it, and I would rather not make anyone feel worse about it than they already do."
Joyce looked away, guilt plain on her face. Alethea had not mentioned to her about Theodore, but there was an unspoken sort of understanding them that the other sisters were unaware of.
In earnest, the reason that Alethea had accepted the proposal was because she thought Oliver seemed like a nice enough man. She did know whether she would get a chance to get another match, and so it would be best if she marries now, rather than burden her family.
"He also said," Felicity continued slowly, "that the plan had been Theodore's idea, yes, but only because Oliver couldn't stop thinking of you and was too honorable to act on it openly."
"He said that?" Alethea asked. Oliver had surely put in a great deal of his imagination to craft this story. She felt grateful for that. It was better than the alternate, where she would be the one who had to answer all these questions.
"He did," Daphne confirmed. "You don't seem surprised."
"I suppose I am not," Alethea said, "If that is the story he chose to tell, then let it be told."
"And what is thetruth?" Felicity pressed.
"The truth is simple," Alethea said after a pause. "He came to me with an offer and I accepted."
It was not a lie, Alethea told herself. It would be wrong to lie, of course. But she was merely bending the truth. Still, she could sense the guilt in Joyce's every glance. She must know the truth, Alethea thought. Theodore must have told her.
