"I'm being careful," Clara protested, her small fingers closing around the jug's handle.
"Clara, let me," Alethea interjected quickly. She reached out and steadied the jug.
"I said I would do it," Oliver corrected her, his tone clipped. His hand came over hers, and for the briefest moment, their fingers touched. Heat shot up Alethea's arm.
"It's hardly so perilous a task that you must supervise every movement," she snapped in a manner that was not herself.
Oliver's eyes lifted to hers at last.
"I would prefer not to have cream spilled over the entire tablecloth," he said evenly. "If you would allow me…"
"She is quite capable," Alethea broke in. She removed her hand from under his and carefully guided Clara's little hand to pour the cream into her cup. Not a single drop fell.
Theodore cleared his throat and leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Well," he said with forced brightness, "the Duchess has a point."
"I only meant to assist," Oliver said, sounding irked.
"And I only meant to show you that I am not entirely helpless," Alethea returned, her tone matching his in its quiet firmness.
They stared at each other across. The air was so charged it seemed even the servants paused at the threshold, uncertain whether to enter. But at last, Clara lifted her cup and took a sip.
"Thank you," she chirped brightly, as though nothing at all had transpired.
Alethea lowered her gaze to her plate, her cheeks hot, her heart thudding against her ribs. But even as she set down her teacup, she could feel Oliver's eyes still on her. It was Theodore who finally tried to ease the strain.
"Well," he drawled, glancing around the table, "forgive me if I overstep, but perhaps it would be best if no one touched anything at all this morning. Tension seems rather high this morning."
Alethea looked up at him. Though she was certain that he was only trying to lighten the mood, her own temper at the moment was flared and any little comment was enough to set her off.
"You needn't worry about any tensions," she said, curtly and focused her gaze back onto her plate.
Theodore looked momentarily chagrined.
I only meant to say that it seems the cream jug has inspired a degree of excitement," he said, attempting a smile. "Nothing more."
Alethea's gaze flicked to Oliver, who sat unmoving but was observing the scene nonetheless.
"I am quite composed, thank you," she said, her hands folding neatly in her lap.
"No one suggested otherwise," Oliver cut in. "It would do you well to not take things so personally, Duchess."
"Did you not?" she retorted, her eyes snapping to his. "Because it appears you are determined to contradict every word I speak."
"I am determined to ensure there is some semblance of order at this table," Oliver replied.
Theodore cleared his throat again, this time with a note of real unease. "Well, it's hardly necessary to quarrel over cream," he murmured.
"No one is quarreling," Oliver said immediately.
Clara looked between them, her small brows knitting. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, darling," Alethea said at once, softening her tone as she turned to Clara. She laid a gentle hand on the child's shoulder. "You did nothing at all."
"Indeed. Clara, you have behaved perfectly," Oliver jumped in.
It was as though both adults had realized that their cold remarks were not being taken well by the children. Alethea decided to eatthe rest of her breakfast in perfect silence. She did not wish to get into a quarrel with husband again.
