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Olivia moved aside to let her pass, trying not to allow her face to reveal how disappointed she had been.

"His Grace bid me come to you this morning and take care of your needs whilst you are readying yourself for the ball this evening," Hannah explained, carrying the tray toward the small table near the window. "He said I was to see that you had everything you required."

Olivia watched her arrange the breakfast and felt an odd mixture of gratitude and sadness. James had thought to make certain she was looked after, yet he had not come himself, and somehow that made the empty space beside her feel even larger.

The breakfast Hannah had brought was modest compared with the elaborate meals served in the dining room, but it was more than enough for one person. There was a small pot of tea, two warm buttered rolls, a dish of raspberry preserve, a boiled egg nestled in a porcelain cup, a few slices of ham and a little bowl of fresh berries.

The sight of it should have been comforting, yet Olivia found herself staring at the food without appetite. She had spent so much of her life imagining what it would be like to have a household of her own, and now she possessed one so grand that she sometimes felt lost within it.

Louiza was gone, James was somewhere about the estate, and Felix was tucked away in his cottage nursery. She had never imagined that becoming a duchess might make her feel so …

terribly alone.

Hannah set the teapot down and hesitated before turning toward her. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace," she said, folding her hands neatly before her waist, "but it is not my place to ask. Are you quite all right? You seem saddened. Should I bring you a different breakfast?"

Olivia looked at the young woman and was touched by the concern in her expression. How strange, she thought, that someone who had known her for such a short time could see what half the people in her family had ignored for years. She managed a small smile and shook her head.

"No, Hannah, the breakfast is perfectly fine," she assured her, sitting down beside the tray. "I simply miss my sister. I am accustomed to having Louiza with me, and now I find myself with no one to talk to."

Hannah's expression softened, and she pulled a chair slightly closer before seeming to remember herself and stopping. "I understand, Your Grace," she said, lowering her eyes modestly. "And I am happy to listen, though I must warn you that my advice is not very good at all, being an uneducated maid and all."

Olivia could not help laughing softly, and the sound felt surprisingly good after the heaviness of the previous night.

She reached for her teacup and shook her head. "Hannah, your advice is as important as anyone else’s," she said, lifting the cup toward her lips. "A person does not need a title or an education to understand when someone is unhappy."

Hannah looked almost startled by the compliment, and Olivia realized how rarely servants were probably spoken to as though their opinions mattered.

"I should like your company," Olivia continued, setting down her cup. "If you have the time, you can help me decide what I ought to wear with the gown tonight."

Hannah brightened at once and curtsied. "I should be very happy to, Your Grace." She moved toward the wardrobe with considerably more confidence than before, and Olivia watched her with a faint smile.

There was something comforting about having another woman in the room, someone who did not expect Olivia to behave like a duchess every moment of the day. With Louiza, she could be silly, frightened, angry, hopeful, or ridiculous, and never once worry that she was being judged. Perhaps Hannah could not replace her sister, but she could make the enormous rooms of Glenmore feel slightly less empty.

Olivia ate a little of the breakfast while Hannah opened the examined gowns and ribbons.

But Olivia’s thoughts inevitably wandered back to James. She had spent half the night determined to confront him about his confession. Was he avoiding her? Had he regretted telling her? Perhaps he had decided that she was safer not knowing.

The thought irritated her enormously. She did not want to be protected through ignorance. She wanted answers, especially now that she was his wife. Yet beneath the anger was a deeper ache, because she had hoped he might come to her himself. She had wanted him to trust her enough to explain what had happened.

"What about this one?" Hannah asked, holding up a pale ivory cloak embroidered with tiny silver flowers.

Olivia blinked and looked toward her. "That is lovely," she said, rising from the table. "And perhaps with the blue gown."

Hannah smiled and carried the shawl toward the dressing area. "I think the blue will suit you beautifully, Your Grace."

Olivia touched the silk thoughtfully, remembering that she had chosen it last night while preparing herself for battle. She had intended to confront James at the ball, where he could not escape her so easily. Yet standing there with Hannah, surrounded by gowns and ribbons, Olivia suddenly felt less certain.

Olivia looked at herself in the mirror, then at Hannah adjusting the cloak over her shoulders.

"Hannah," she said quietly, "if a person told you something terrible about themselves, would you want to know the whole story before deciding what to think of them?"

Hannah paused and considered the question carefully. "I believe I would, Your Grace," she replied, smoothing the fabric. "It seems only fair to hear what happened before judging a person."

Olivia stared at her reflection and felt something inside her settle. That was precisely what she needed to remember.

She smiled faintly at Hannah through the mirror.

"Then I believe you may have just given me very good advice."