"Oh, he can be thoughtful, certainly. But I've not often heard him called considerate. Efficient, yes. Dutiful, surely," Peter said wryly, earning a small smile from Alethea. "But I suspect he shows you a side of himself that we may not often see."
Alethea felt a flush creep up her neck. Her reasoning for the dance had been to simply get a small reaction out of her husband, but now that she was here, it seemed that she was gathering insights about him that she had not been privy to before.
Perhaps then, it had not been such a bad idea.
"I wouldn't presume to know all of Oliver's sides," Alethea replied. gently. "Our marriage is still quite new."
"Even so, you've had an effect on him. I see it plainly."
"And what effect is that?" she asked, stealing a glance back at her husband. Rest assured, he had not moved a single inch.
"He's happier," Peter said, without hesitation. "Frankly, it's rather sickening to those of us who are still disreputable bachelors. You're making us look bad, Your Grace."
Alethea laughed outright at that, unable to help herself. The notion that she could make Oliver happy sent an unexpected warmth in her chest.
The dance ended after that. Alethea dropped into her curtsy, and Peter bowed. There was more applause, though more subdued than after the opening waltz.
"Thank you, Your Grace, for indulging me with that dance," he said warmly. "It has been the highlight of my night."
"You are too generous, sir," Alethea replied.
She cast a glance around in search of Oliver. Indeed, she spotted him not far off, standing with Alexander and Nicholas. Oliver's eyes were fixed on her and Peter, his jaw set in a line that was most definitely not a smile.
"Perhaps I ought to return you to him before I'm called out for a duel at dawn," Peter laughed.
"Yes, let's not keep him waiting."
They approached the cluster of gentlemen and Oliver stepped forward at once.
"Morton," he addressed Peter, "I shall need you to return my wife to me now."
Peter had the grace to appear unfazed by Oliver's pointed look. "I return her to you safe and sound, Your Grace."
Oliver's fingers closed over Alethea's, and she felt the tension in his grip.
"Indeed," he said. "Enjoy the rest of the ball, Peter." The dismissal in his words was clear, though politely phrased.
Peter knew better than to press his luck. With a final bow to Alethea and a cheeky wink at Oliver, he excused himself, presumably to find another partner or refreshment.
Alexander and Nicholas excused themselves shortly after. Oliver took the moment, and turned to his wife.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly. "Did he behave himself?"
"Mr. Morton was a perfect gentleman, if that's what you're asking." She nodded, feigning innocence. "In fact, he was quite complimentary and entertaining. A fine dancer too."
"I see," Oliver narrowed his eyes just slightly.
"Although…" she continued, "I do remember seeing you scowl from the sidelines. Of course, I could be wrong as well."
"It was not my intent to cause any distraction," Oliver said through gritted teeth.
Alethea shook her head.
"No apology necessary. To be honest, I hardly noticed anything but keeping my steps in order." That was not entirely true, but she wished to soothe him. She laid her free hand lightly atop his arm. "You needn't fret. It would have been most impolite of me to refuse every dance partner but you."
"Come with me," he said to her.
"But I must greet the guests," she argued, though her tone lacked any conviction. In earnest, she would willingly follow him wherever he wished to take her.
