"Thank you," Alethea replied, and felt a small swell of pride. If these close friends of Oliver's were pleased, surely that was a good sign. "I admit I had much guidance in planning it."
In truth, the household staff had handled the majority of arrangements, knowing she was new to such things. Even so, she had insisted on contributing ideas, selecting some of the floral arrangements herself, and choosing the menu. Minor details perhaps, but it gave her a sense of ownership of this event.
"You'll find," Isadora said kindly, "that a duchess quickly becomes adept at these matters. If you ever need any advice, we ladies are more than happy to help."
There was genuine friendliness in her tone that put Alethea at ease. Alethea wondered if she could find a friend in these ladies. They were titled women, of course. Much like herself.
"Careful, Isadora, or you and Penelope will overwhelm her with your expertise," Oliver chuckled. "My wife might never invite you to tea again if you drown her in advice this very night."
Alethea arched a brow at him in a faintly amused way. It was the first time she'd heard Oliver refer to her as my wife in public. The casual possessive warmed her from within.
"On the contrary," she said, looking to Isadora, "I welcome all the wisdom I can get. There is much I have to learn. I confess the success of this ball has been a happy surprise to me."
"Nonsense. You have the natural grace required, I can already tell," Penelope cut in, "Many a debutante with a lifetime of training could not glide through her first ball so calmly."
Alethea wasn't sure how "calm" she truly felt, but Penelope's praise made her laugh softly.
"If I appear calm, Lady Penelope, it may be because the full weight of it hasn't sunk in yet," she said, plainly.
"Don't remind Oliver of the ‘weight' of a ball," Alexander gave a mock shudder. "He'll recall how he detests hosting and vow not to give another for ten years."
Oliver rolled his eyes, though amusement danced in them.
"I am not quite so dramatic. In truth, I find I don't mind hosting at all, under the right circumstances." As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Alethea, making clear exactly what circumstances those were.
Her heart skipped; it sounded very much like a compliment. But before she could respond, the final member of the friend group stepped forward with a broad, charming smile.
This time, it was a young gentleman. He had been hovering just behind the others, waiting for an opening.
"I see that introductions have been dreadfully lacking one important person," he announced lightly. "Myself. Peter Morton, Your Grace. Old schoolfriend of Oliver's."
"Peter," Oliver groaned, sending a scowl at his friend. Alethea noticed Oliver subtly shift his weight. In the weeks since their marriage he had been gentle and courteous, but often reserved. Among his friends, however, he seemed more at ease and boyish.
"Pay him no mind, Alethea," Oliver said to her wryly. "Morton is incapable of seriousness."
Peter's eyes widened.
"Untrue! I can be very serious when the occasion demands. For instance, I am deadly serious when I say that Her Grace positively glows tonight." He fixed Alethea with a smile. "The Duke is a fortunate man indeed."
Alethea could not help but return a polite smile.
"You are too kind, Mr. Morton," she replied. "Though I must agree, my husband is fortunate."
It was her way of appearing confident among the group who already knew each other so well. It seemed to work, as Alexander barked a laugh.
"Well struck, Your Grace," Alexander applauded. "Oliver, I believe your Duchess has you well in hand."
"I wouldn't dare deny it," Oliver said warmly. For a moment Alethea forgot everyone else around them as she lost herself in her husband's gaze. There was something there that made her heart turn over in her chest.
Their private moment was interrupted by the sudden surge of music. All around, couples began to assemble on the floor. Oliver smoothly drew her hand into the crook of his arm once more and stepped forward. As host and hostess, it was only fitting that they open the dancing.
"May I have the honor?" Oliver asked her.
"Of course, Your Grace." Inside, she was trembling again. This was the part she had been most nervous about: the dancing. Please let me not misstep, she prayed silently. The eyes of the entire ballroom would be on them for this first dance.
Oliver must have sensed her tension. "Just follow me. I won't let you falter."
They took their positions among the other couples. Alethea placed her right hand lightly in Oliver's and her left hand atop his broad shoulder. His free hand settled at her waist and they faced each other. On cue, he swept her into motion. At first, Alethea was so focused on not tripping that she hardly noticed anything else.
