She walked beside Oliver as everyone meandered back to the laid-out picnic. Servants had already set an impressive spread:cold roasted chicken, meat pies, an assortment of cheeses, fresh bread, strawberries and cream, tarts, and biscuits.
Alethea prepared a plate and found a seat on a soft blanket. Before she could settle, Oliver appeared at her side carrying two glasses of chilled cider. He handed one to her and lowered himself to sit close by.
"Thank you," she said, accepting the drink.
This was what she had yearned for. She watched Oliver's face as he gazed over the picnic scene. He looked relaxed, but his jaw tightened slightly whenever his eyes drifted to where Theodore sat with Clara, who happened to be not far from Joyce playing pat-a-cake with the baby.
"They dote on the children, both of them," Alethea observed quietly.
Oliver followed her line of sight. Joyce had set down the baby to toddle, and Theodore had instinctively reached to hold the baby steady when she wobbled. Now it was patting his cheek, making him chuckle while Joyce smiled tentatively at the sweet scene.
"Theodore has always been good with little ones." Oliver hesitated, then added in a lower voice, "He'll make a fine father someday."
Alethea heard the unspoken remainder:if I allow him to be.
She set down her glass and turned to Oliver. "He would," she agreed. "And so would Joyce."
"I know what you're doing," Oliver looked at her, a guarded expression in place.
"What am I doing?" Alethea tilted her head, feigning ignorance.
"Painting a rosy picture of how suitable they both are. How harmless." His tone was resigned. "Alethea…please don't press me on this."
"I'm not trying to press," She bit her lip. "I just… I hate seeing two people suffer when they could be happy together."
Oliver's gray eyes clouded. He glanced to ensure no one was near enough to overhear. Everyone was busy with their own conversations, thankfully.
"Do you truly think they would be happy?" he asked. "After everything? Would it truly suit?"
Carefully, Alethea placed her hand over his, which rested on his knee. She knew that she was going to have to tread very carefully.
"I think," she said gently, "that your brother loves my sister very deeply. And she, in her guarded way, loves him too. I have watched them. There is genuine affection and that is notsomething so easily found. Surely you, of all people, understand the value of love, even when it comes unexpectedly."
His gaze searched hers, and she wondered if she had said too much. But it was a chance she was willing to take right now.
"It's not that I don't want Theodore to be happy," He exhaled slowly. "He's my brother and I care for him."
"Then what is it?" she pressed softly. "Should you not overlook the reputational damage, if it means making your brother happy?"
"I should not care, perhaps, but a duke's reputation matters for more than vanity. It impacts influence, the good I can do for my estates and tenants. I cannot have it tarnished by gossip that we are…reckless," he explained to her.
Alethea considered that. She hadn't fully realized how much weight Oliver placed on public perception beyond the immediate scandal.
"Perhaps in time the gossip will die," she ventured. "They needn't marry tomorrow. But if you gave your blessing quietly, say, a year from now…would that be so terrible?"
Oliver looked conflicted and she took this a chance to further drive her point forward.
"You said yourself you don't intend to have children. Which means eventually Theodore will inherit your title and responsibilities. Would it not be better that he settle down with someone he truly loves, who will support him when that day comes?"
A muscle in Oliver's jaw ticked. Theodore would likely become Duke one day if Oliver left no heir. A stable marriage for Theodore would indeed be important.
"I do not question Joyce's character," Oliver said after a moment. "She's a good woman, I can see that. I question Theodore's readiness. And I…perhaps I resented that his rash pursuit of her forced my hand in so many ways."
"You mean the wedding," Alethea said softly.
"I mean everything," he replied, eyes darkening. "One rash decision after another. Always believing the world will bend to his whims."
Alethea opened her mouth, but something about the sharpness of his tone made her hesitate.
