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Not her actual eyes, because that would be messy; rather, her gaze fell on the bed.

Well, of course it did; the thing was massive.

This morning she’d been shown to this room and had gaped at the size; her whole office could fit inside! And it was merely the Duchess’s chambers…the Duke’s chambers were through that door there, which also housed the thoroughly modern bathing room.

But the bed was…far bigger than she’d ever imagined using. And she was supposed to sleep here by herself?

He’s going to come to you.

He hadn’t said that—he didn’t say anything. But she tasted the promise of his kiss. Seen the way he’d watched her hungrily throughout the marriage ceremony.

But after…

After, he’d brushed a kiss across her cheek, given her a little bow, and left her alone.

Not exactly alone.

Well, no. There’d been the vicar, and the dowager, and her two new sisters-in-law, and that quiet man—the friend of the Duke’s, what was his name? Fox? Fawkes.

Olivia had watched her new husband disappear into his study, and she’d been left to handle the horde of people herself.

Five people is hardly a horde.

It might’ve been, had they all been carrying pitchforks.

None of them were. Fawkes escorted you to luncheon. It was quite pleasant.

And only a little awkward, considering her new husband wasn’t by her side.

“Oh, do not fret, Olivia,” Amelia had announced. “Alistair never dines with us.”

“Arsehole!” announced the parrot.

The Duke of Effinghell didn’t dine with his family? But he expected her to? How…strange.

Speaking of dining…

Olivia threw herself onto the bed, already eyeing the plate of dairy-based delicacies some kind servant had left. This was why she suspected she’d enjoy being a duchess. Oh, her afternoon had been filled with lectures from her new mother-in-law, and meetings with the butler and housekeeper—as if Olivia had any notion of how to run a household this size!

But then her new sisters had dragged her aside and the three of them had spent an instructional—and supremely embarrassing—hour in the library.

And now Olivia was waiting for what Amanda assured her would come.

The Duke.

It seemed as if, now Olivia was a duchess, she had a whole army of servants. A duchess. Ridiculous.

Apparently, duchesses required help scrubbing their backs. Olivia had put a stop to that, although the hot bath had felt positively sinful. And having her hair washed? She had vague memories of her mother doing that for her as a child, but had forgotten how good it felt.

Now she was relaxed, waiting in bed, and occupying herself with…let’s see…

Ooh!

How delightful! A few pieces of crispy bread, and a beautiful spread of cheeses! The crumbly Wensleydale was served beside a pile of fresh raspberries and a few nuts, while the Roquefort—oh, bliss! When had she last been granted a taste of this sharp French goat cheese?—was drizzled with honey. Messy, but a perfect way to end the day, as far as she was concerned.

Cheese, a small glass of champagne, and…

Glancing guiltily toward the door—as if an army of puritan housemaids would come charging through and beat her about the head with feather dusters for her shame—Olivia’s hand crept beneath the pillows, and emerged with…