Oliver seemed to have taken notice as well. Alethea noticed how the sides of his mouth folded into what resembled a frown.
"I do not exaggerate in the slightest when I say the Duchess has reinvigorated this old bachelor's love of waltzing. In fact," Peter went on, unfazed, "if Her Grace would honor me, I should like to claim the next dance."
Alethea blinked at the sudden request. She opened her mouth, casting a quick glance at Oliver.
The expectations of a hostess were such that she would need to dance with others. And Peter was Oliver's close friend. Surely it would be rude to decline.
"The Duchess might prefer a short rest after opening the ball. We wouldn't want to tire her too soon," Oliver answered on behalf of Alethea before she could say another word.
Alethea realized with that Oliver was trying to shield her from Peter's request. But doing so in front of everyone might cause a small scene. Already Penelope and Alexander exchanged knowing looks, and Isadora pursed her lips in amusement.
It dawned on Alethea that they all understood precisely what was happening: Oliver was feeling possessive.
Somehow, it ignited something inside of her. She had navigated one dance successfully; she could manage another, even if with a new partner. Especially if it brought out Oliver's protective jealousy.
"Thank you, Mr. Morton. I would be delighted."
Oliver's head whipped toward her in surprise. It was rare for Alethea to counter him so directly, even in so small a matter. She met his gaze calmly, hoping to convey that it was all right. They could not very well refuse friends without cause. And she truly was feeling more confident now.
Before Oliver could protest further, Peter handed off his empty glass and extended his arm to Alethea.
"Shall we, Your Grace?"
CHAPTER 17
"Ihope I haven't earned the Duke's eternal wrath by stealing you away."
Peter was the first to break the silence with a joke.
"Oliver is not so easily angered, I think," Alethea managed a soft laugh.
But even as she said the words, her tone was carried a hint of unsurety. In the moment, it had seemed like a fabulous idea to make Oliver jealous, which was something she had never done before. Nor had she thought that she was capable of doing as well.
But now, as reality settled around her and she was actually at the dancefloor, she wondered if she had tried to push her luck too far.
"If you believe that, Your Grace, you haven't known him as long as I have," Peter replied. "His Grace has a temper, though I am not surprised that he does not let it show in front of you."
"I suppose that it is for the better that he does not," she nodded.
They performed the first sequence, exchanging partners and then returning. As Peter took her hand to lead her in a turn, he spoke again.
"I must say, you are handling all this remarkably well."
Alethea inclined her head modestly, but then looked over to the sides where Oliver was watching her still. He had not moved from his place.
"To be plucked from obscurity and thrust into the highest society overnight—most would faint at the prospect," Peter continued on, despite Alethea not paying him too much heed.
"It has been an adjustment," she allowed carefully.
"If it's not too forward, how are you finding Oliver's household? And Oliver himself?" Peter guided her around a small circle.
Alethea nearly stumbled in surprise at the directness of the question, but Peter expertly steadied her with a hand at her elbow, making it look like part of the dance.
"I find them all very kind," she answered once composed. "And His Grace is…" She hesitated, unsure how to summarize such a complex man in a dance's length. "He has been very considerate of me."
"Considerate. That is an interesting choice of word for our Oliver."
"You disagree?" she asked, genuinely curious now.
