Alethea met his eyes, and with a burst of courage she scarcely understood, replied, "But not every wife is lucky enough to have you."
She did not know where the words had come from, but it was the honest truth. Women like herself did not deserve a life such as this, and never would she have expected one for herself.
Oliver looked momentarily taken aback but then raised her hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss over her knuckles.
"You might be surprised," he murmured. "It is I who am fortunate."
Before she could summon a response, he opened the door and led her inside, leaving her flushed.
CHAPTER 8
"Your Grace, the dress looks lovely on you," one of the maid's commented, but Alethea was too busy in her own thoughts.
Nervous. That was the word to describe the feeling swirling inside of Alethea, as she stole one last glance at herself in her bedroom vanity.
"Do you really think so?" Alethea turned to the maid finally.
"Yes, Your Grace. The craftsmanship on the gown is simply marvelous and you carry it elegantly."
Alethea found herself agreeing with the first half of the statement. The gown truly was beautiful. . Delicate silver embroidery traced the square neckline and capped sleeves, and the high waist was adorned with a satin ribbon. It was far more elegant (and far more form-fitting) than anything she hadworn in the convent. The modiste had kept their promise and delivered it right on time.
Now whether or not she carried it well, she could not say. She felt like a foreigner in such clothes, never having the opportunity to wear them before.
"I shall get going now," she announced, making her way out of her room. She paused at the top of the grand staircase, gathering her courage.
She smoothed her palms over the skirts of her new gown and took a steadying breath.
This is ridiculous,she chided herself silently.It's only a ball.
Yet her heart fluttered as if she were about to step on stage before a great crowd. In a way, she supposed, she was. Tonight would be her formal introduction to society as the Duke's wife, and the prospect left her nervous.
Looking down at herself, Alethea felt nearly unrecognizable.
Will Oliver like it?
The unbidden thought made her cheeks warm. Alethea only hoped she could carry it off without tripping on the fabric.
She lifted her chin and finally began her descent. As she descended the staircase one careful step at a time, she caught sight of Oliver standing below in the foyer. He was speaking with his brother, Theodore, but at the first creak of the stair, Oliver's head turned.
His reaction caught her by surprise. Oliver's eyes had gone wide, his expression utterly stunned.
Beside Oliver, Theodore broke into a broad grin. He gave his brother a light nudge with an elbow.
"Better close your mouth, Brother," Theo drawled, teasingly. "You'll catch flies with your jaw hanging like that."
Alethea felt a flush creep up her neck. She lowered her eyes briefly, suddenly even more self-conscious about every step. As she reached the end of the stairs, Oliver was already there with his hand extended out for her to take.
"Thank you," she muttered politely, unable to meet his eyes quite yet.
"The pleasure is all his," Theodore grinned, the teasing tint never leaving his voice.
Oliver seemed to ignore him, focusing all of his attention instead on his wife.
"The dress was a fine choice," he started, though his voice came out a little hoarse for reasons Alethea could not understand. Almost as though some of her own nervousness had transferred over to him. "You look beautiful."
Alethea's heart skipped but she still did not dare to meet his gaze.
"Thank you," she murmured in a soft voice. It was this moment that she realized that Oliver looked quite polished as well. He was dressed in a tailored black tailcoat and crisp white waistcoat.
