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The butler merely inclined his head, as if to acknowledge her accomplishments, without minimizing her position as a duchess.

A duchess.

It was still impossible to believe, especially to someone who’d been up at dawn and had ink under her nails. Her back ached from helping to set type, and she was irritated Alistair hadn’t come to her room last night.

No, this isn’t what duchesses should feel like.

“You want me to take him a message, Your Majesty?” blurted Rocky. “The Duke, I mean. He’s in his study.”

“Yes, you told her that already,” Hiro said blandly. “It is possible the daft man has fallen asleep on his desk after being out all night.” The last was muttered under his breath, and when Olivia raised a brow, he flushed. “I…assume?” he added.

“He is a duke,” she chastised, but a part of her was wondering. He was ‘out’ last night? Instead of finding my bed? Out with whom?

Hiro shrugged. “The daft duke, then.”

Rocky rumbled again. “I can wake him up, Your Majesty, if you want.”

Olivia hid her smile and turned back to the footman. “No, thank you, Rocky. Clearly he’s busy.” Or possibly asleep.

Perhaps he didn’t come to you last night because he was disappointed by your wedding night.

Perhaps he’s beginning to realize you don’t really belong here.

Perhaps he regrets his hasty proposal to a nobody like you.

But…but he’d arranged for her editors to be paid yesterday, before close of business. He’d been kind enough to send pastries for the printers. Those weren’t the actions of a man trying to push her away.

Perhaps he didn’t come to your room because he’d already achieved his goal.

The fingers of her free hand dropped to her stomach, lightly caressing the simple gown she wore.

Alistair needed an heir; that was why he’d married her. He’d spent inside her on their wedding night. Was he…waiting? Waiting to see if she were with child?

She hated this uncertainty!

“Your Majesty, want me to show you how to get to the Duke’s study?”

Snapped back to the present, Olivia pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from grinning at Rocky’s inappropriate title. There was a snicker—hurriedly shushed—from behind him, and she glanced across the foyer to see Alistair’s sisters peering around the corner from the front parlor.

It was Hiro who answered, however. “She knows where His Grace’s study is, Rockhead. She was there yesterday, and the day before. Prior to the door damage you did.”

“Sorry, Hiro,” the footman rumbled, grinning abashedly. “I fixed it, yeah?”

As the butler grumbled, Olivia caught Amelia’s eye. Instead of flushing in embarrassment, the imp grinned hugely, and mimed throwing something on the floor.

Not understanding, Olivia lifted her brows in question.

Amanda leaned around her sister and repeated the motion, with more force. Then her eyes cut sideways, toward…

Toward Rocky?

Olivia’s lips tugged down in confusion, as her gaze slid between Amanda and Rocky, then back again.

Amelia huffed silently, then used her free hand to trace a curve in the air. Olivia’s frown deepened. It looked as if the girl was waving…? No, she was holding her hand at hip-height, and that was definitely a lump she was illustrating, from a straight vertical line—why was she caressing that imaginary lump, now? And waggling her eyebrows?

Caressing…?

Amelia’s increasingly frustrated gestures were now accompanied by Amanda pointing at…