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For a moment, his carefully constructed calculations were sharp on his mind. This evening was about the plan. It was about Felix. It was about securing his inheritance.

Then the door opened and a servant stepped into the drawing room.

The man bowed deeply before announcing, "The Duchess of Glenmore, Her Grace Olivia Shirley Delves."

At once, every conversation ceased, and James found himself turning toward the doorway with the rest of the room, though he had no idea why his pulse had suddenly quickened.

Olivia entered with a composure he had not expected. Her dark, rich, wavy hair was piled elegantly upon her head, exposing the graceful line of her neck, while her shimmering white gown, edged in delicate silver, fitted her figure with an elegance that made James forget, for several embarrassing seconds, that there were perhaps twenty people watching him.

Her grey-blue eyes swept across the room, calm and assured, and James swallowed hard.

Good God.

He had seen Olivia in riding clothes, travelling gowns, wedding clothes, and practical dresses, but he had never seen her like this. She looked every inch a duchess, and worse still, she looked beautiful enough to make him forget the entire reason for the evening.

He forced himself to move before anyone noticed that he had been staring. Crossing the room, James approached her and held out his hand, keeping his expression suitably composed despite the inconvenient fact that his heart was beating considerably faster than it ought.

"May I introduce my wife," he announced, turning toward the assembled guests as he gently took her hand.

Applause immediately filled the room, and James felt Olivia’s fingers tremble against his.

He glanced down at their joined hands before giving hers a reassuring squeeze.

"You are perfectly safe," he murmured beneath the applause, leaning slightly toward her.

Olivia looked up at him, and a small smile touched her lips as she squeezed his fingers in return. The simple gesture affected him far more than it should have, because suddenly he was not thinking about inheritance, trustees, or the elaborate scheme he had constructed to secure his future. He was thinking only that he wanted that smile to remain on her face.

James led her further into the room, his hand still firmly around hers, and began introducing her to the guests one by one.

"Your Grace, this is Lady Nichols," he said, gesturing toward Percy’s mother, who offered Olivia a gracious smile, while James watched closely as Olivia returned it with effortless warmth.

"Very pleased to meet you, Lady Nichols. I thank you for accepting our invitation," Olivia said.

"Of course. I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Your Grace," the Lady curtsied.

"And this is my old friend, Lord Percy Nichols."

Percy bowed, and James caught the faint amusement in his friend's eyes, as though he had already noticed something James himself was desperately trying not to acknowledge.

She is beautiful.

"Oh, an old friend of James’, I am delighted," Olivia said.

"This is Viscount Midton and his family," James continued, presenting Lady Mary, Tyler, and Caroline in turn.

Olivia greeted each of them with the exact degree of politeness required, and James found himself strangely proud of her. She was nervous, he knew that now, but she concealed it beautifully.

She is magnificent.

The thought came unbidden, and James immediately attempted to suppress it. Tonight was about appearances, about establishing his marriage in the minds of the Ton, about Felix and the future of Glenmore.

It is not about how Olivia's hand felt in mine, nor how she shines like the sun.

Yet as she stood beside him, smiling graciously while he introduced her to the next guest, James realized something deeply inconvenient. He had spent weeks convincing himself that Olivia was merely part of a carefully constructed plan, but with her hand resting in his and her eyes occasionally meeting his with quiet trust, the arrangement was beginning to feel dangerously like something else …

A true marriage.

Chapter Twenty