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Hannah laughed softly, looking pleased. "Perhaps I am not entirely hopeless, then."

Olivia laughed again, and the room did not feel quite so empty. She had lost Louiza's daily companionship, and James remained an infuriating mystery, but at least she did not have to face it all entirely alone.

She would attend the ball, wear the blue gown, smile at the guests, dance if required, and somehow find a moment to speak to her husband.

"There are so many guests," Olivia said nervously.

James glanced down at her with his usual unreadable expression as they approached the ballroom.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight," he murmured, his tone carrying no hint of amusement.

Olivia looked up at him suspiciously. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, adjusting the fold of her glove.

James's mouth twitched. "No running off to the stables to steal a horse." His eyes remained fixed ahead, but she knew perfectly well he was talking about the first time they had met.

Olivia gave him a look of profound offense. "I understand," she replied, though she could not resist adding, "Though I believe stealing your horse was considerably more interesting than most balls."

The Midton Ball was already in full splendor by the time Olivia arrived at Midton House upon James's arm. The great entrance hall glittered beneath a multitude of candles, their light reflected in polished mirrors and crystal chandeliers, while footmen in immaculate livery stood along the walls to receive cloaks and announce arrivals.

Beyond the hall, music drifted from the ballroom, where violins and a pianoforte played a lively country dance, and the murmur of conversation rose above the music in a constant hum.

The Viscount and Viscountess Midton had spared no expense, and every polished surface, floral arrangement, and silver ornament seemed designed to remind their guests that this was one of the most important social evenings of the Northumberland Season.

Olivia tried very hard not to look as though she wanted to turn around and flee through the nearest door.

I am not from these parts, and despite everything James has done to make my entrance into Northumberland society easier, I cannot not help wondering what the local gentry thinks of having a southerner marry the Duke of Glenmore.

James belonged to this place in a way she never could. His family had held the dukedom for generations, and the name Delves seemed to be carved into the very stones of Northumberland. She, meanwhile, had arrived from the south with a complicated family, a twin sister who had only just left her, and a husband whose secrets seemed to multiply every time she thought she understood him. She tightened her fingers around his arm, hoping he did not notice how nervous she was.

"Remember, you are holding the title of Duchess of Glenmore now," James reminded her quietly, his arm firm beneath her hand. "Remember that ancient family name."

Olivia drew a slow breath and smiled at the guests approaching them. "I have remembered it," she whispered through her teeth. "Act pristine and proper, represent the ancient family name, and absolutely no climbing out of windows."

James glanced down at her, and for one brief moment she thought she saw amusement in his blue eyes. "Precisely."

Olivia smiled sweetly at a passing lady while thinking that …

if he continues speaking to me like a child, I might climb out of a window purely to spite him.

He escorted her toward the refreshment table, which had been arranged beneath a bank of tall windows overlooking the moonlit gardens. Olivia stared despite herself. Silver trays held tiny delicacies of confectionary, egg, and smoked salmon, alongside delicate savory pastries filled with minced meat and mushrooms.

There were little pies, sugared fruits, jellies, cakes iced in pale colors, slices of rich fruitcake, and pyramids of berries and syrup. Crystal bowls held syllabub and cream, while silver urns offered tea and coffee, and servants moved between the guests with glasses of champagne, whiskey, and punch. It was an extravagant display, and Olivia might have enjoyed it considerably more had she not suddenly become aware of the attention directed toward her.

The debutantes are staring.

Olivia noticed it almost immediately, particularly the young ladies gathered near the edge of the room, each dressed in elaborate gowns and jewels intended to announce their eligibility. Some looked her over with frank curiosity, others whispered behind delicate fans, their eyes darting toward Olivia before returning to their companions. Their mothers were no better. Several older women stood in little clusters, speaking behind raised fans with expressions that suggested they had already formed opinions about the new Duchess of Glenmore.

Olivia felt heat creeping up her neck. Apparently, she had become the evening's most interesting entertainment without having said a word.

She resisted the urge to turn around and ask precisely what everyone found so fascinating.

Instead, she lifted her chin and reached for a glass from a passing servant.

"Smile," James murmured beside her.

Olivia kept smiling. "I am smiling."

"You look as though you are preparing to challenge someone to a duel."