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But it is our duty to make appearances.

He would rather have been at Glenmore. He could have been in his study with a glass of brandy, reviewing estate accounts while the fire burned low, or walking the grounds with no one demanding conversation from him. Yet he had brought Olivia here because she needed the outing, whether she admitted it or not. Louiza had gone to London, and James knew how much Olivia missed her sister.

More importantly, the local gentry needed to become accustomed to seeing Olivia at his side before he announced the arrival of the child. The more ordinary her presence became, the less remarkable it would be when the duchess eventually appeared with an infant.

It was a practical calculation, one James had made repeatedly since discovering Felix, and he refused to allow sentiment to interfere with it. Unfortunately, sentiment had become rather difficult to keep out of anything involving Olivia.

"And I believe there is much to be gained here, if I play my cards right," Percy said.

James veered back into the conversation without missing a beat, "Yes, a ball is a very good place to discuss business. Heads are full of drink and one might be more inclined to be receptive to proposals."

"My very thought, Your Grace," Percy smiled.

James' gaze moved across the ballroom and stopped when he noticed several gentlemen watching Olivia. One man near the fireplace had been staring for long enough that James had begun to wonder whether he intended to speak to her.

Another looked away only when James caught his eye, while a third had openly turned his chair so he could watch Olivia between conversations. James felt something unpleasant tighten in his chest.

Jealousy is absurd. Olivia is my wife in name and law, but the marriage has been nothing more than an arrangement, and I have no right to feel possessive of her.

He reminded himself of that firmly, even as his jaw tightened. She was beautiful, certainly, and any man with eyes would notice her, but that did not mean he needed to imagine throwing every one of them out into the gardens.

Percy was still speaking when the musicians chimed a warning, and the room gradually settled in anticipation of the next set.

"I believe that is my signal," James said, turning toward his friend.

Percy glanced toward the dance floor and smiled knowingly. "Indeed, it is."

James ignored the amusement in his expression and straightened his coat. "You must excuse me. I must escort Her Grace for this dance."

Percy bowed with exaggerated solemnity. "Of course, Your Grace. Would not wish to deprive the duchess of such a pleasure."

James turned toward Olivia. He extended his hand, and she placed hers in it after the briefest hesitation. "Come," he murmured, guiding her toward the dancers. "Let us give them something else to discuss."

Once they had joined the set, James found himself acutely aware of Olivia's hand resting in his. He had danced with countless women over the years and never thought twice about it, yet holding his wife's hand seemed different. He could feel the warmth of her fingers through her glove, and when she looked up at him, her grey-blue eyes were far too expressive for his comfort.

They moved through the steps with reasonable grace, James guiding her carefully as the music carried them around the polished floor.

Then, during a turn, Olivia leaned closer and spoke beneath the music. "James, you must tell me what is happening with the threatening notes."

His expression hardened immediately. "Not now," he replied, keeping his voice low as he guided her through the next figure.

Olivia's mouth tightened. "All this secrecy since we met has been very tiresome."

James scowled at her, partly because he disliked the accusation and partly because he knew there was truth in it. "You know more about me than most people," he said, his hand firm at her waist as they turned. "Everyone except my uncle, perhaps. But this is not the place for such a discussion."

Olivia looked directly into his eyes. "But you avoid the subject altogether at home, so if not at a ball, then when?"

The question struck closer than James cared to admit. He had no satisfactory answer. At home, every opportunity to tell her seemed to become another opportunity to protect her from the truth. He wanted to tell her everything. More than that, he wanted to trust her with everything. Yet the moment he imagined describing what had happened with his brother, the threats, his father's anger, and the circumstances surrounding his inheritance, he imagined Olivia's face changing.

I can bear her anger. I cannot bear her disappointment in me.

She had already endured enough because of her family. He did not want to become another source of darkness in her life.

"Your duty tonight is to enjoy the ball," he told her firmly, though his tone softened when he saw her frustration. "Mingle. Make acquaintances. Speak to people. Let them know the Duchess of Glenmore."

Olivia gave him a look that suggested she was not remotely satisfied.

James continued before she could argue. "Our family is only as strong as our allies allow us to be. These people may seem trivial tonight, but their friendships, influence, and connections matter."