"Oh, look at you blush! That tells me all I need to know," Temperance just chuckled. "The man is clearly in love, and by the looks of it, so are you."
"Temperance!" Alethea hissed. It was one thing for Temperance to suggest it in private, another to proclaim it so boldly.
"I could have told you that, after seeing the man's face just now," Maria agreed.
Alethea covered her cheeks with her hands.
"You are all reading too much into things."
"Don't even try to deny it, we know you too well," Temperance laughed and threw an arm around Alethea's shoulder.
Alethea peeked out from between her fingers.
"I will not deny that I am very fond of my husband," she conceded softly.
This admission earned her a collective squeal of triumph from her friends.
"But I must not speak of this no more," she added hastily. The dangerous seed of hope had been already planted inside of her, and she dared not water it more.
Her friends seemed to respect her decision, deciding not to push more.
"Come now," Alethea said, "Let us walk in the garden before you depart—the roses are just coming into bloom. And perhaps I can persuade you all to stay for luncheon. Oliver did invite you to visit often, after all."
"Say no more, Your Grace," Temperance intoned playfully, then broke into a grin. "We'll make a proper afternoon of it!"
Arm in arm, chattering happily, the five friends began to make their way out of the drawing room. Alethea's heart was so full she thought it might overflow.
Thank you, she thought, as if Oliver could somehow hear it.Thank you for this happiness.
CHAPTER 13
Oliver paced the length of his study. He had been attempting to review estate ledgers, but his concentration was shattered when he had been interrupted midway by Theodore.
It always comes back to her,he thought grimly.
Joyce. The cause of Theodore's recent moping and the source of yet another family headache.
"Can you stop the frowning, at the very least?" Oliver said, irked by the constant gloom on his younger brother's face.
Theodore's eyes were slightly bloodshot, and Oliver detected the faint scent of brandy on his breath.
"We need to talk," the younger man said.
"By all means." Oliver arched a brow and gestured curtly.
For a moment, Theodore looked unsure where to begin. He raked a hand through his hair.
"I've just come from White's," he began, naming the gentlemen's club, "and they were discussing Joyce. They're calling itthe Carter scandal." He practically spat the words.
Oliver was hardly surprised. He had tried to quell the rumors after the fiasco, but gossip in thetonhad its own life.
"Idle tongues will wag. It will die down soon enough, provided no further fuel is added," Oliver offered as advice.
"It's all because of me," Theodore let out a harsh laugh, laced with frustration. "Joyce won't even look at me now."
Oliver's mouth set into a hard line.So that is what this is about.
"Perhaps," he said evenly, "she has good reason."
