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She wondered whether she had been staring. She suspected she had.

Why is it so difficult to behave normally around my own husband?

She had faced Lord Boulton without trembling, argued with Lady Charnley, climbed out windows to be with her sister. Yet sitting across from James while he drank quietly seemed somehow more dangerous than any of it.

"I was told you took Louiza to visit Felix," James said at last, breaking the silence.

Olivia turned toward him, relieved to have something sensible to discuss. "Indeed, I did," she replied, setting her glass upon the table. "I missed him and wanted to see him. It is very hard to be away from him for so long." She hesitated, then admitted more softly, "I find myself thinking about him constantly."

James studied her for a moment, and something in his expression changed. "I apologize," he said, his voice quieter than before. "I did not think of that when I first hatched this plan."

Olivia blinked, surprised by the apology. James rarely seemed like a man who apologized for anything. "You do not need to apologize," she said, though she was touched despite herself.

"Yes, I do," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "Of course you should want to be with him daily. I understand it because I feel the same." His gaze shifted briefly toward the fire before returning to her. "But for this plan to work, we must play our part."

There it was again, the plan. Olivia felt the familiar little ache in her chest, but she pushed it aside. "I know," she said quietly. "I simply wish the circumstances were different."

Before James could answer, the drawing-room door opened, and Louiza entered with a bright smile. She stopped when she saw James and immediately dropped into a graceful curtsy. "Good evening, Your Grace."

James rose in acknowledgment, while Olivia watched her sister with silent relief. At least now she would not have to sit alone with her husband and her increasingly inconvenient feelings.

James sat at the head of the dining table, with Olivia on his right and Louiza opposite her, and for a moment he found himself acutely aware of how different the room felt with three people seated within it. The dining room at Glenmore was designed to impress, with high ceilings, tall windows draped in heavy curtains, gilded molding running along the walls, and a pair of crystal chandeliers casting warm light across the polished mahogany table. Silver candlesticks stood between elaborate arrangements of winter greenery, while the Delves crest had been worked into the porcelain and silverware used for the meal.

It was precisely the sort of room his father had favored, grand enough to remind every visitor that the master of Glenmore belonged among the highest ranks of the aristocracy. James had never cared much for the display, but tonight he found himself wondering whether Olivia felt overwhelmed by it.

The first course had been laid before them, a delicate soup accompanied by bread, followed by an array of fish and savory dishes arranged for them to choose from. There was roasted trout with a light sauce, dressed crab, small savory pastries and vegetables prepared in butter, while the servants moved quietly around the table, replacing plates and glasses with practiced efficiency. The second course followed with roasted chicken, glazed carrots, buttered peas, potatoes, and a rich lamb dish, all served with sauces and gravies in silver boats.

James ate without much thought, accustomed to elaborate meals and the endless rituals surrounding them, but he found himself watching Olivia more than his plate.

She is not herself this evening.

Usually, Olivia could fill a room without trying. She had an irreverent way of speaking, a quickness in her eyes, and an irritating habit of looking directly at him as though she could see every thought he wished to keep hidden.

Tonight, she was quieter, answering when spoken to but offering little else. James could not determine whether she was angry, tired, or simply uncomfortable, and he found the uncertainty surprisingly distracting.

"How are you finding Glenmore?" he asked at last, placing his knife beside his plate and looking directly at her.

Olivia glanced toward him before returning her attention to her food. "It is fine," she answered simply.

James frowned faintly.

Fine. That is all?

He could think of several dozen words Olivia had used in the past few days, and fine was perhaps the least descriptive of them. He had expected her to complain about the weather, the size of the house, the servants, the distance to the cottage, or some other inconvenience, and strangely, he would have preferred any of those answers to this subdued acceptance.

"I am glad," he said, though the words sounded inadequate even to himself.

Louiza, apparently sensing the awkwardness, placed her fork down and smiled. "Perhaps there is some social event we might attend while we are here," she suggested, looking between them. "It would be lovely to meet the people in the area and learn who lives nearby."

"That is precisely why I invited you both to dinner," James replied, relieved to have a practical subject upon which he could focus. He straightened slightly and addressed Olivia. "We shall have an evening of supper and cards here at Glenmore to introduce you to society as the new Duchess of Glenmore. Olivia, I expect you can handle the arrangements. We shall have it in one week, and I will give you the list of households to invite."

Olivia nodded, though her expression remained difficult to read. "Of course. I will handle it."

"And I will help," Louiza added brightly, reaching for her wineglass.

James gave her a brief nod. "Very well. The seamstress will arrive tomorrow to take your measurements, and I have instructed her to bring gowns that are already made that can be tailored to you immediately. You should both find a dress suitable for the evening." He spoke of it as naturally as he might have discussed repairing a roof or reviewing tenant accounts, because to him it was simply another obligation that needed to be completed. Yet the moment he finished speaking, he noticed Olivia's expression change.

It was barely perceptible. Her shoulders stiffened, her gaze lowered, and she became suddenly fascinated by the edge of her plate. James's instincts immediately sharpened.