"Peace, Peter," Alexander cut in with a chuckle. "Let him process at his own pace."
"But do consider telling her sooner than later, my friend. Not all of us get second chances when we delay too long." He turned to Oliver, and spoke from experience. Oliver recalled Alexander nearly lost his own wife once by hesitating due to a foolish betrothal contract.
"Yes," Nicholas agreed quietly. "Don't waste time. Time is a luxury, in love."
Oliver drew a deep breath and straightened his spine. They were right. Fear or not, he owed Alethea honesty. And he yearned to know her heart fully—did she indeed love him, as his friends believed? He dared to hope it was true.
"I love her," he said under his breath, testing how it felt. A grin tugged his mouth as he turned away. It felt damn good.
But despite what he felt, he still had to hold true to his principles.
He would never be able to give her children.
CHAPTER 20
"Shall I read to you?"
The Duchess made the offer to two bright-eyed young girls. Clara and Eleanor were mercifully oblivious to her distraction and nodded eagerly.
"Yes, please," the younger one sounded. "That would be lovely. We do like it whenever you read to it."
"Yes, it is most interesting," Eleanor nodded. "Somehow, the stories do not sound as interesting when the Governess does it."
Alethea could not help but smile. She was really spoiled rotten by the love that she received from these two – and it was something that she often reminded herself to not take for granted either. The girl's could have just as easily been not accepting of her, but they had embraced her with open arms.
"Well, then. Huddle up around me."
She began reading to them from the story, which they listened intently. They did not know that they were helping her distract herself from her own thoughts, which was more a gift to her than anything else than they could have done for her in that moment.
Alethea Carter could scarcely make sense of her own thoughts. Indeed, no amount of time spent in the nursery with Eleanor and Clara had succeeded in banishing the memory of Oliver's kiss. It returned to her in quiet moments, especially when she allowed herself to remember the warmth of his hand upon her cheek.
It was absurd.
She had known the Duke of Redhaven for a mere matter of weeks. That was hardly enough time to form any reasonable attachment. But that was exactly what had occurred. Each time Eleanor's hand touched hers or Clara's bright eyes lifted to her face, she was reminded of the quiet conviction that had stolen over her heart. How simple it felt to imagine a life among them, a life in which Oliver's children might one day call her Mama.
She pressed her lips together, banishing the thought as swiftly as it appeared and continued on with the story. But it appeared that the brief pause in her narration had not gone without being noticed.
"Is something troubling you?" Eleanor was the one to ask.
"What?" Alethea blinked, startled.
"You look…different," Eleanor continued, shyly. She lifted a hand, as though to touch Alethea's cheek, then thought better of it. "Sort of as if you are thinking very hard about something."
"Oh," the book lowered slightly in her lap as warmth flooded her face. Had she really been so transparent? Usually, she was quite good at concealing her own feelings.
"You are blushing," Eleanor observed with the frankness only children possessed. "You do that when you are pleased, but also when you are embarrassed."
"I do not," Alethea protested weakly, though she could feel the heat rising to the tips of her ears.
"You do," Clara joined in. "Have we done something wrong?"
"Oh, no," Alethea hurried to assure them. "Of course not. You are perfect angels."
"Then why are you thinking so hard?" Eleanor persisted, her brow furrowed with worry. "Did Oliver do something to upset you?"
Alethea's blush deepened. She realized that she did not give the girls enough credit for their perceptiveness.
"Your brother has done nothing of the sort," she assured, though mid-sentence she realized that even her own sentence lacked conviction.
