"I do not know," she said, smiling now. "You are the only one who compliments me."
"Then I shall be forced to compliment you more often," Oliver chuckled low in his throat.
"I do not wish to force you to do anything, Your Grace."
"Oh, no such thing," his smirk returned. "I shall be doing so most willingly."
He is flirting with you again.The thought came to her unbidden, and she blushed again, willing herself to not read too deeply into it.
Her earlier conversation with Felicity nudged at her thoughts.You're falling in love with him.Was that what this was?
Oliver must have noticed the shift in her expression.
"Is something on your mind?"
"I was just thinking," she said, trying to sound offhand. "This is my very first ball. I didn't quite know what to expect, but… it's almost enjoyable."
She dared not voice her real thoughts. But this was not a lie either.
"I recall you once said you were nervous about re-entering society," Oliver nodded, "You seem to be handling it well."
"Once again," she blushed. "I believe you have a hand in that as well."
"Or it is all you," he suggested. "And you are discovering now that you fit into society just well."
"Oh, I am not too sure about that," she admitted earnestly. "Fitting in is not a notion that I am familiar with."
"Then you stand out," he said. "Which might be even better."
It occurred to her again that his responses were so different to what she had always heard in her life. Standing out had never been a good thing in her previous life.
"You are doing that thing you do again," he commented after a while. She had not realized that she had been silent for a long moment.
"What thing?" she asked, startled as though she had inadvertently done something wrong.
"It's hard to explain. But you get this deeply introspective look on your face," he tried. "And then it is always followed by a panic. You were the same earlier in the evening with Clara."
"I, oh," Alethea was unsure of what to say. "Well earlier I had expected you to be mad at Clara, which is why I got defensive perhaps."
"Mad?" Oliver repeated, taken aback. "Me?"
"Well, yes. She did spill her drink and it is only fair to assume that you would not take kindly to that."
Oliver was startled for a moment, and then broke out into a deep, rumbly laugh.
"Oh, dear heavens," he said, shaking his head. "I would never get angry at such a trivial thing, let alone to my younger sister who knows no better. A dress can be replaced."
She stared at him, almost missing her step.
"Well then. I suppose things are quite different here than what I am used to," she admitted earnestly.
There was a flicker of curiosity in Oliver's face. But he did not question her.
"No one should have to live in fear of those who ought to care for them," he said instead.
"Well, yes," she said, though her voice was not fully sure. "Things are different here, as are you."
Oliver's face was contemplative when he spoke again.
