He stepped back a half pace. A comfortable quiet settled over them. After a thoughtful pause, Theodore cleared his throat.
"I'm sure you have surmised that it was Joyce who finally knocked some sense into me."
"Oh?"
That Theodore said Joyce's name, with such softness, had not escaped her notice.
"She had told me to not make things awkward for you, but it took me a while to listen."
He began pacing again, as though the very mention of Joyce had made him nervous once again.
"I hadn't meant to bring this up now, of all times," he murmured, "but you already know how I have fallen hopelessly in love with her."
Alethea's eyes widened, despite having half-expected some confession along those lines. He had made his preferences clear on the day that they had met.
"Theodore…" she began, hardly knowing what to say.
"I know," he said quickly, waving one hand as if to ward off any reaction from her. "She's not exactly what Mother would have hoped for me, for she is widowed. But she's everything to me."
"I think it's wonderful," she said softly. "Truly."
"You think so?" Theodore said. "My brother seems to think the opposite."
"Well, it is possible then your brother and I have a different opinion," Alethea remarked.
Theodore let out a laugh.
"If that is the case then I shall like for the two of us to be friends," he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. "I would like to have you by my side."
Alethea hesitated. She was not used to handshakes, or anything like the sort. Instead, she just nodded at him.
"We can be friends."
"That is all I need," Theodore grinned. It was a slow start, but Alethea felt as though she was making her own place in the estate.
Later that night, Alethea found herself wandering the corridor toward Oliver's study. The events of the evening had left her both relieved and restless.
Throughout the day, Alethea had been in consultation with the housekeeper, reviewing the household accounts and discussing some proposed improvements around the estate. It was a task she had taken to diligently, determined to be useful in her new role as Duchess. Truthfully, she found she rather enjoyed the managerial side of running the household and caring for the estate's tenants; it gave her a sense of purpose. Still, the final decision on expenditures traditionally rested with the duke and she knew she ought to seek Oliver's approval before moving forward with any significant changes.
But it had taken her only till now to muster up the courage to speak to him. In her youth, she'd had no one who truly listened to her ideas or cared for her opinions; learning to speak up was an ongoing exercise in courage.
She paced out his door for a few moments.
This is ridiculous,she chided herself gently.You're his wife. If you cannot bring him a simple proposal without feeling as though you're misbehaving, what kind of partnership is this?
Gathering her resolve before it could falter again, Alethea gave the door a soft knock.
"Come in," his voice called out almost immediately.
Alethea slipped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.
Oliver sat behind his desk, looking up from a letter spread before him.
"Duchess."
"I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour," she began quietly, clutching the bundle of papers that she had carried with her a little tighter against herself.
"You are not disturbing me," he remarked, eyeing the documents in her hands.
