"I second that. Truce, yes?" He eyed Oliver questioningly.
Oliver exhaled, the fury draining out of him as quickly as it had come. He felt oddly lightheaded, whether from exertion or from the weight of his own unspoken confession finally surfacing.
"Truce." He glanced at Peter. "Forgive me, Peter. I overreacted."
Peter hopped off the ropes, patting Oliver's arm.
"Think nothing of it. I knew the risks of poking the bear. And might I just say, I knew it. I am just happy I was able to help you come to the realization."
Oliver shook his head. Leave it to Peter to celebrate nearly being choked as a personal victory. Alexander and Nicholas now clambered into the ring. Alexander seized Oliver's hand and shook it in mock congratulation.
"Well done, old friend," Alexander said warmly. "I suspected as much when I saw you at that ball. You looked at her as I look at my own love."
Nicholas chimed in, "And as I at my Isadora. The look of a man thoroughly besotted."
Oliver felt his cheeks heat. Hearing it put so plainly made him feel almost shy.
He, who had prided himself on being aloof to love's folly, had apparently been broadcasting his feelings to every witness.
How had Alethea not seen it…or perhaps she had?The memory of her shy, hopeful glances lately suggested she might at least suspect. He cleared his throat.
"It would seem I'm the last to know my own heart."
"Better late than never," Alexander replied, slapping him on the back. "I'm happy for you. Truly."
Oliver mustered a faint smile. He was happy too, he realized. Now that the truth was out in the open, at least among his friends.
He loved her. By God, he loved Alethea. Saying it in his mind made him want to shout it aloud next, consequences be damned.
Peter tossed an arm over Oliver's shoulders. "First rounds at White's tonight are on me, in honor of Oliver's declaration of love."
Nicholas started unlacing his own gloves. "The real question, Oliver, is have you told her yet?"
Oliver sobered slightly, stepping away from the group to tug off his gloves. "No. Not in so many words." He ran a hand through his damp hair. "I believe I am only finding out myself now."
"So you do admit it?"
"Yes," Oliver sighed. "I suppose there is little utility in denying it."
"Then tell her, man," exclaimed Peter, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "From what I've seen, she's half in love with you too, or entirely, more like. She just needs to hear it."
Oliver blew out a breath. His friends' enthusiasm was encouraging, but they didn't know the complexities of their arrangement.
The matter of children…his decision that they would never have any…that still hung between the air. Could he truly offer her his love without that? Was it fair to declare himself if he still intended to hold to that course?
Perhaps, a voice whispered inside him, that course is what needs rethinking.
The memory of Alethea's face when he'd shut down the topic of children pricked at him. She had looked hurt, frustrated. And he had hated seeing that expression, knowing he caused it.
Alexander must have noticed Oliver's silence. He nudged Peter to quiet and addressed Oliver kindly, "Are you all right?"
"Just have a lot on my mind," Oliver managed a tight smile.
"It's a life-changing thing, accepting love," Nicholas gave a sage nod. "Especially if one fought it."
"No backing out now," Peter teased. "You've admitted it to us, you can't keep the lady waiting."
"I would never…" Oliver bristled at the implication he would toy with her feelings.
