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The previous night had been humiliating enough, with him explaining precisely what their marriage would and would not contain, and she had resolved to keep her heart safely out of the arrangement. Unfortunately, her heart appeared to have neglected to consult her before becoming interested in the duke sitting beside her.

James turned toward her after taking a sip of tea, his expression thoughtful. "There is something else I ought to tell you," he said, setting his cup down carefully. "I do actually want us to have a proper wedding in England, with a real bishop."

Olivia blinked at him, genuinely surprised. "A proper wedding?" she repeated, lifting her brows. "After all this?"

James's mouth curved with amusement as he reached for a piece of toast. "After all this," he confirmed. "The ceremony this morning served its purpose, but I should like something more formal once we are home. There will be people who expect it, and I see no reason not to give them something worth attending."

Olivia considered that for a moment, then felt an unexpected warmth spread through her chest. "In that case, I should like it to be in London," she said, placing her spoon beside her plate. "I want my family there."

James turned fully toward her, his attention sharpening. "Are you close to your family?" he asked, and there was no teasing in his voice now.

Olivia hesitated, because the honest answer was complicated. "Yes and no. Not particularly on the best of terms with my parents," she admitted, folding her hands in her lap. "My father is an unusual man who allows my mother to push him about. He would rather avoid an argument than have an opinion of his own, and she has plenty of opinions for both of them."

A faint smile touched Olivia's mouth, although there was little humor behind it. "My mother is a foolish woman who cares almost entirely about riches, titles, and beauty. She thinks those three things can solve every problem and it has caused tension between us."

James listened without interrupting, and Olivia found herself strangely comforted by his silence. "She has always believed I am a bad influence on my sisters," Olivia continued, her fingers tightening together. "She has spent years trying to separate me from Louiza. She considers Louiza the promising daughter and me the troublesome one. Whenever I did anything she disliked, she would tell Louiza that she must be careful not to become like me."

Olivia looked down at her tea. "It was cruel, but Louiza never listened to her."

James's expression softened. "That must have been very hard for you."

"It was," Olivia admitted quietly, then straightened her shoulders. "But my sisters make up for it. They have always loved me, and Louiza …" She glanced toward her twin and felt a familiar ache of affection. "Louiza has always been my other half. They deserve to be part of this new chapter of my life, even if my parents make the occasion difficult."

James gave a small nod. "Then they shall be there." He reached for his cup again, his tone becoming matter-of-fact. "Once the banns are read, we will return to London and have the proper wedding."

Olivia stared at him for a moment. Relief came so swiftly that she nearly laughed. She had not realized how much she wanted that promise until he had made it.

She wanted Louiza beside her, her sisters watching, even her difficult parents seated somewhere in the church if only so she could look across the aisle and know that she had survived everything they had expected of her. More than that, she wanted one memory of becoming James's wife that did not involve desperation, escape, or an anvil.

Yet confusion followed close behind her relief.

How can this man be so cold about children and marriage one moment, calmly telling me that I would never have the sort of marriage I had dreamed about, and then be so attentive to my needs the next?

He had somehow known that she wanted a proper wedding without her ever asking for one. He had listened to her complicated explanation of her family and immediately agreed that they should be included. James seemed determined to deny her heart everything she wanted and yet somehow kept finding ways to take care of it.

Before she could make sense of that contradiction, Hubert rose from his chair and came around the table with a broad smile.

"Well, Your Grace," he said warmly, holding out his hand, "I believe congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family."

Olivia laughed as she placed her hand in his. "Thank you, Lord Delves."

"Hubert," he corrected, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze. "We are family now. And now that you have become entangled with James, I fear you are in very serious trouble."

She laughed again, glancing toward James, who merely shook his head with an expression of long-suffering resignation. Hubert wandered away to speak with Louiza, leaving Olivia smiling after him, and for several seconds she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of the moment.

Then the thought struck her with such force that her smile faltered.

Your Grace? I am married. I am a Duchess.

Olivia stared at the delicate pearl bracelet around her wrist, suddenly conscious of everything. She was the Duchess of Glenmore. The title seemed enormous, far too grand for the woman who had been stealing a horse less than a week ago and hiding behind curtains.

Panic fluttered beneath her ribs, sharp and breathless, but she forced herself to take another sip of tea. No one seemed to notice.

Olivia kept her face composed and breathed slowly.

I am married and somehow, I have absolutely no idea what comes next.

Chapter Thirteen