Handsome.The stray thought arrived without permission and she blushed deeply again.
"Ah, look at the both of you," Theodore commented. "Looking shy as though this is your first meeting. Endearing, really."
Oliver shot his brother a look.
"That will be enough from you," he said, shaking his head. He turned back to her and gently placed her hand in the crook of his arm. "Are you ready to depart?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied. "I admit I'm not entirely sure what to expect tonight."
"You have nothing to fear. We'll simply make an appearance, perhaps endure a dance or two, and then you may decide whenyou wish to leave. I won't keep you there a moment longer than you desire."
His consideration was comforting; he knew large gatherings still overwhelmed her at times. Alethea gave him a grateful nod.
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
Before they could take a step toward the door, a pair of footsteps pattered towards them.
"Wait! Let us see first."
Alethea turned to see Clara and Eleanor scampering toward them. The two girls came to a halt in front of Alethea.
"You look so pretty!" Clara burst out, clasping her small hands together. "Like a true princess."
"We just had to see your gown. Brother said it was being made special for you." Eleanor nodded in agreement and reached out to lightly touch her gown. "Oh, it's lovely.."
"Thank you. I'm happy you approve," Aleathea said gently. "Though I'm still a bit unsure if I am able to carry it the way it ought to be carried."
"Oh, you carry it perfectly," Eleanor exclaimed, and spun to her brother. "Doesn't she look beautiful, Ollie?"
"She does," he agreed. "The most beautiful lady at the ball tonight will be my wife."
"Oh! I knew it. I just knew it!" Clara squealed. She turned back to Alethea. "See, even Oliver thinks…"
It happened in an instant. Clara's foot caught the hem of Eleanor's long nightdress as she twirled back, and the child stumbled. Her arms flailed, and a cup she was holding onto flew from her grasp. Alethea gasped, instinctively lifting her skirt out of the way, but she wasn't fast enough as a red liquid splattered all across her dress.
"I'm sorry!" Clara burst out, her voice breaking. "I didn't mean.. I was only…"
Poor Clara broke out into a mess of sobs. And the sight made Alethea's heart lurch. In that moment, she could care less about the state of her gown. Instinctively, she reached out to protect Clara for what was to come.
He's going to shout,she thought in alarm.He'll shout, or send her away, or…
"It was an accident," she said quickly. She clasped Clara's hand tightly. "I'm not hurt, and it's only a gown."
Oliver's eyes shifted to Alethea, and her rushed words faltered. There was no fury in his face at all. Instead he looked… concerned. Confused, even.
"Clara," Oliver said, stepping forward. Alethea tensed at his approach, but his voice remained calm. "Come here."
Still crying, Clara walked away from Alethea and into Oliver's chest. Oliver wrapped her in his arms, lifting her off the ground as he stood. Alethea watched, astonished, as Oliver rubbed soothing circles on Clara's back. He did not yell, nor look angry in the least. If anything, he appeared concerned.
"There now," Oliver murmured, "Haven't I told you to be careful when you're carrying a drink?"
"I'm s-sorry," she repeated for the dozenth time. "I know you said to be careful… I forgot… I was just so excited…"
"I know you were," he said. He managed a small smile for her. "You were excited about Alethea's dress, weren't you?"
Clara nodded, sniffling.
"It was so p-pretty," she hiccupped. "And now she c-can't wear it to the ball.
