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"Surprised?" Olivia asked, accepting a glass of punch from a passing servant.

Lady Prescott tilted her head. "Only because the duke has always seemed rather particular." Her eyes travelled deliberately over Olivia's gown before returning to her face. "Of course, one cannot blame him entirely. Perhaps he simply became tired of waiting."

Olivia's fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. She could feel the beginnings of anger warming her cheeks, but she refused to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.

Olivia replied calmly, "I should imagine His Grace is quite capable of making his own decisions."

Lady Prescott's smile sharpened. "Oh, certainly. Though the fact that we here in the north lost him to the London girl annoys the ton even more."

Olivia blinked once.

London girl?

Apparently, she had already acquired a title beyond duchess, and she suspected it was not one that would appear in any peerage.

Lady Eastly leaned toward Prescott as though sharing a particularly amusing secret, though she spoke loudly enough for Olivia to hear every word. "The duchess must have been desperate after failing to find a husband in London," she said, fluttering her fan. "Perhaps she came here to Northumberland to cause scandals and steal men."

A few ladies nearby exchanged startled glances, and Olivia felt something inside her go very still. She could have ignored the insult to herself, but the implication that she had deliberately pursued James merely because she could not secure another husband was absurd enough to offend her pride. Before she could answer, Viscountess Midton stepped forward.

"Now, now, ladies," the Viscountess said, lifting one hand in warning. "Just because the duke chose to run away with the duchess to Gretna Green for a marriage in secrecy does not mean that the duchess was compromised before the marriage. I will not have such talk at my ball."

Olivia's stomach dropped. For one terrible moment she wondered whether she had misheard her. Then the sudden gasps around them confirmed that she had not. The ladies stared at her, fans freezing in midair, while Lady Prescott's eyes widened with fascination.

Olivia wanted to disappear beneath the refreshment table. Instead, she stood perfectly still and wondered with increasing disbelief how Viscountess Midton had managed to defend her reputation while simultaneously setting fire to it.

A marriage in secrecy. Run away to Gretna Green. Compromised before the marriage?

Olivia could practically hear the gossip spreading through the room already. By tomorrow morning, half of Northumberland would probably believe she had chased James across the border with a pistol in one hand and a wedding license in the other.

She closed her eyes for the briefest instant and thought of James. He had warned her to behave herself, and she had assured him she would. Yet he had failed to mention that behaving herself apparently included surviving public speculation about whether she had trapped a duke into marriage. When she opened her eyes again, Lady Prescott was looking at her with a mixture of triumph and curiosity.

"How very … romantic," Prescott murmured, though the mocking edge in her voice was unmistakable. "To think His Grace was so desperate to marry that he had to flee to Scotland."

Olivia smiled slowly. "Yes," she replied, taking a calm sip of punch. "It must have been terribly inconvenient for him."

Lady Eastly frowned slightly, clearly expecting Olivia to be embarrassed. "I imagine a gentleman of the duke’s position would have had many opportunities to court anyone here."

Olivia nodded thoughtfully. "Undoubtedly. Though perhaps he simply did not care for any of you."

Prescott gave a soft laugh. "Or perhaps he did not have much choice in the matter."

Olivia turned toward her with an expression of pleasant curiosity. "You seem remarkably interested in my marriage, Lady Prescott."

The young woman's smile faltered. Olivia continued before she could answer, setting her glass upon the nearest table. "I wonder whether I should be flattered. You have spent nearly the entire conversation discussing my husband and me, and yet we have scarcely exchanged three sentences before this. One might think you are quite obsessed with the matter."

Lady Eastly's cheeks colored. "We were merely jesting."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "How fortunate. I should hate to think you were being deliberately unkind."

Viscountess Midton looked between them, apparently uncertain whether to intervene, but Olivia gave her a reassuring smile. She had spent too many years allowing people to mistake kindness for weakness. She could be polite without being submissive, and if these women wanted to test the new Duchess of Glenmore, they were about to discover that the southern girl they had decided was desperate and scandalous had teeth.

"As for failing to find a husband in London," Olivia said lightly, turning toward Lady Eastly, "I assure you, I had several opportunities. I simply declined them."

Lady Eastly's mouth opened slightly.

Olivia smiled. "I imagine you understand the concept of declining unsuitable offers, for I'm sure you have had many, have you not?"

Lady Prescott's expression hardened. "Of course … I have had an offer or two. I simply find it odd to believe the duke was your choice? Being so far away and all," she said.