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"So do I," James replied.

Their eyes met, and Olivia smiled. "We are becoming rather good at this."

"At choosing wet nurses?"

"At working together."

James considered that for a moment before giving a small nod. "Perhaps we are."

They took Mrs. Harris to the cottage that afternoon, where Felix was sleeping peacefully. The moment Mrs. Harris saw him, her expression softened rather than changed with surprise. She approached slowly, allowed him to grasp one finger, and smiled when his tiny hand closed around it.

"Hello, little one," she whispered.

Olivia watched James watching them, and something about the scene made her chest ache. He stood close beside her, his shoulder nearly touching hers, and for a brief moment they looked like what she wished they could be, two parents standing together over their child, making decisions because they belonged to one another.

But I know better than to believe this.

Still, as Felix woke and Mrs. Harris gently soothed him, Olivia found herself smiling.

Maybe friendship could be enough? Perhaps I could learn to accept this peculiar marriage for what it is and find happiness in the things it has given me already?

She had Louiza. She had Felix. She had Glenmore, a position, a purpose, and now a husband who was willing to share parts of his life with her.

Friendship was a good thing. Friendship was safe.

Friendship did not require her to hope for a husband who wanted a real marriage, or children who belonged to both of them, or a future that James had never promised.

Olivia looked at him again and silently told herself,

This is enough.

She knew, even as she thought it, that she was lying

"Good evening, Your Grace," Mr. Howards said.

"And to you, Mr. Howards. Thank you for coming this evening," James said.

James stood near the entrance to the drawing room, watching the first of Glenmore's guests arrive beneath the glow of the chandeliers. The room had been transformed for the evening, with candles burning in every silver sconce, flowers arranged upon the marble mantel, and small tables prepared for cards around the edges of the room while servants carried trays of champagne and wine through the gathering.

Conversation rose steadily as members of the local Ton greeted one another, and James moved among them with the composed authority expected of the Duke of Glenmore. He welcomed each guest personally, offering a handshake or a courteous bow, but behind his calm expression his mind was calculating precisely why each person had been invited.

This evening was not merely a social occasion. It was the first step in a much larger scheme, and James had selected the guests with the same care he would have used when choosing trustees for an estate.

Everyone in this room needed to know that he was married. More importantly, they needed to see his wife, remember her, speak of her, and eventually accept the inevitable news that they had an heir.

If people began discussing Olivia now, then months from now no one will question the child. That is the objective. Simple, sensible, and entirely necessary.

His Uncle Hubert had arrived early, naturally, and James had been relieved to see him speaking comfortably with several gentlemen near the fireplace. Percy Nichols was there as well, standing beside his mother, Lady Nichols, and James was pleased to see his old friend already enjoying himself.

Percy caught his eye and lifted his glass.

James returned the gesture before moving toward another group. "Viscount Midton, welcome to Glenmore," he said, offering his hand as the Viscount approached with his family. "It is a pleasure to have you here."

"The pleasure is ours, Your Grace," the Viscount replied, bowing. His wife, Lady Mary Everson, smiled warmly beside him, while their son Tyler, aged twenty, and daughter Caroline, eighteen, offered their greetings.

James returned each with appropriate courtesy, but his attention lingered briefly upon Lady Mary. She was precisely the sort of woman he needed tonight.

Lady Mary knows everything that happens in the county, and if she did not know something, she was generally capable of discovering it before breakfast. Within two days, I expect half of Northumberland to know she has seen the Duchess of Glenmore with her own eyes.