"You heard?" Theodore seemed surprised.
"I am sure that most of the estate did," Alethea smiled. "I suppose it got quite heated between the two of you, judging from the raised voices."
"Ah," Theodore took a sip from his glass again. "Well, I suppose I should not be surprised. Both of us had our reasons, though I fail to understand his."
"You know, Oliver cares for you very much," Alethea continued gently.
At once, Theodore's face hardened again. He tilted back the rest of his whiskey and set the glass down with a thud.
"If that's a prelude to defending his behavior, spare me."
"It's not about taking sides," Alethea shook her head. "I only mean… he's worried for you, truly."
"He has a fine way of showing it," Theodore gave a snort. "He does not wish for me to marry your sister. And he certainly does not care about what happens to her."
Alethea paused.Of course.She should have figured this out sooner that it had something to do with Joyce. Somehow, she had assumed that whatever passing fancy he had for her would have passed by now.
"I am sure that His Grace has his reasons," she said, careful in her choice of words.
"Does he?" Theodore's voice was thick with resentment. "He acts as if love is some childish fancy I'll soon forget. He keeps asserting that my feelings for Joyce are simply some passingwhim, that if left ignored would simply go away. He does not seem to realize that he only makes my love for her stronger.
Alethea hesitated. It was a rather bold declaration from him. "Is it truly love, then?"
He looked at her sharply, as though offended she would even question it.
"I would marry her tomorrow, this minute, if I could. What else would you call it?"
Under his gaze, Alethea felt heat creep up her neck. Even though she was older than him, this was a topic in which her experience was limited.
"I'm sorry. I did not mean to doubt you," she started, "It's only that… I have not had much experience with matters of the heart. I wanted to understand."
Theodore leaned forward, elbows on his knees, turning his empty glass in his hands.
"I love her," he repeated, softer this time. "From the moment I first danced with Joyce at that ball, I knew there was no one like her. We spoke of such honest, personal things in those few minutes, it was as if we had known each other for years. And when I realized she felt comfortable enough to truly laugh with me…" His lips curved in a sad smile at the memory. "I felt as though I'd been given something precious."
Alethea listened intently. Joyce must have trusted him a great deal to lower her guard.
Theodore continued on.
"After the ball, I called on her as often as propriety allowed. Every visit only convinced me further: I wanted to spend my life by her side." He dragged a hand through his hair. "That night I climbed up to your house… I truly thought she was waiting for me. I thought we had an understanding that.." He broke off, as though remembering a painful memory, "Well. It doesn't matter now what I thought."
Alethea's heart ached for the remorse etched on his face.
"It matters to me," she murmured. "Please, go on."
"The plan was to elope," he said flatly, looking down at his hands, "I was going to take her away and marry her quietly. I knew it was rash, but I was desperate to spare her any further gossip. She'd already been humiliated when people saw us share those unchaperoned dances." He grimaced. "I convinced myself it was the only way to protect her and be with her. But I made a botch of it."
Guilt and grief lay heavy in his tone. Alethea felt her heart squeeze. She hated seeing others in pain.
"You made a mistake," she said gently. "A terrible, ill-conceived mistake, yes. But your intentions were born of love, not malice."
"Try telling that to the Duke," Theodore looked up at her, brows drawing together.
"I might, actually," Alethea replied. "He should know how deeply you care for her."
"It won't change anything." Theodore replied like a man who had long given up on hope, "He'll never approve."
Alethea bit her lip. She could not deny Oliver's obstinance. In truth, she understood both sides. She understood the weight Oliver felt he bore. He did not wish for his brother to be embroiled in further scandal, and was only protecting him, as he had done for most of his life. But she also saw genuine love that Theodore had.
