Page 20

A t their destination, Victor busied himself setting up his easel, canvas, and paints while Juliana watched.

His thoughts flitted like dancing shadows between worry and trust over his confession.

Was he wrong to trust her, to expose his heart so fully?

Adalyn had been the only other person he’d ever shared his dreams with. And that had ended badly.

It wasn’t that Adalyn had laughed at him. In fact, when he’d bared his soul to her about wanting to have his life mean something, she understood completely. Medicine and saving lives being her own admirable ambition.

Victor believed they had connected on a deep level—had a future together. How wrong he had been.

But what of Juliana now that he had bared that part of his soul to her?

Had been wrong again? He hadn’t lied when he said he believed he could trust her.

Maybe it was because he wanted to trust her—needed to trust her—to trust someone .

The pressure from his mother to force him into a marriage to Lydia magnified his need to break free and carve his own path.

He didn’t want to be like everyone else.

Who better to help him than a duke—and a duke’s sister?

Determined to prove his worth with the portrait of Juliana, he placed his hands on his hips and assessed the area, taking special note of how the light filtered in through the trees.

“Over here, I think.” After positioning the horse, he instructed Juliana to stand at the horse’s head.

“If you would remove your gloves and bonnet. You have lovely hands, and I want to capture how the light reflects off your hair.”

Color rose to Juliana’s cheeks, and Victor hoped to capture that as well.

“Do you ever paint from your sketches?” Juliana asked, handing her bonnet to the footman.

“At times. But having the subject before me results in a far superior depiction. For example, here, in addition to the light on your hair, I can see your blush, the exact color and shading on your face.”

“Oh!” She raised her hands to her cheeks.

Mixing some paints, he smiled to himself. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s lovely. I want to paint you that way.” When he returned his attention to her, he tilted his head, studying her and placing an index finger against his lips.

Her gaze dipped toward the action.

Victor wasn’t conceited, but he was honest, and he knew ladies considered him handsome. Juliana was attracted to him, which would make their ruse all the more believable. But he’d have to tread lightly; he had no intention of hurting her.

“How should I...?” She lifted her hand toward the horse’s muzzle.

He stepped forward, palms up. “With your permission, allow me to position you.”

After she gave a nod, Victor placed her right hand flat on Sunshine’s neck.

“To soothe and assure her all is well.” The sensation from the warmth of her skin caught him off-guard.

How had he not noticed it when he’d danced with her months ago?

Had he imagined it? Next, he took her left hand in his, placing it on Sunshine’s muzzle, and the same frisson of excitement spread up his arm.

With the positioning of her hands and arms, Juliana’s body had angled toward the horse and away from him. He stepped back and assessed her, steadier on the outside than he felt. “Hmm. Can you turn your shoulders toward me?”

“Like this?” Juliana adjusted herself.

“Meglio—better. Just one more thing.” Prepared for that same surge of energy, and as gently as he could, Victor took her face in both his hands and turned it forward.

Their eyes locked, and Victor’s breath hitched.

So much for preparing himself. His gaze dipped, fascinated with her seductively parted rosebud mouth.

The pink tip of her tongue poked out, wetting her lips.

Victor suppressed a groan and forced his attention away from her alluring, very kissable mouth and back to her eyes.

Which turned out to be no safer choice than her lips. Her gaze softened, growing unfocused, and as her pupils enlarged, her irises became mere rims of dusky cornflower blue.

Not precisely the expression he should capture in her portrait, but one Victor privately burned in his memory. He hadn’t had such attraction to a woman since Adalyn. Was it because of Juliana’s likeness to the woman who broke his heart?

Regardless, Victor gave a little cough and tore his hands from the softness of Juliana’s face, pulling himself back to what mattered most—painting her portrait. “Perfetta—perfect. Hold as still as possible,” he whispered and returned to the safety of his canvas and paints.

With his focus back on the task at hand, his mind cleared, and the troublesome—and confusing—emotions retreated.

While Victor sketched her rough outline on the canvas, Juliana held perfectly still.

Only her eyes moved, her gaze darting away each time he met hers directly.

The horse, on the other hand, was a different matter.

Juliana did her best to keep the mare still as Sunshine tossed her head and shuffled against the ground.

More to himself than aloud, Victor muttered, “Perhaps including your horse wasn’t such a brilliant idea after all.”

“Oh, it was brilliant, Victor. Sunshine is being difficult. She is a bit headstrong.”

Victor did his best to take advantage of the times Sunshine held still, quickly outlining Sunshine’s position and as many of the horse’s features that he could.

Satisfied, he picked up his palette and dabbed his brush into the paint.

He’d always found the first touch of brush to canvas exciting, as if a whole undiscovered world awaited him on the white linen surface, and soon he was lost in his art.

A snore sounded behind him, and Victor spun around. Seated on the ground, the footman leaned against a tree, his eyes drooping and his head bobbing, jerking him back awake before he nodded off again.

Victor had forgotten about him entirely. He pulled out his pocket watch, surprised that over an hour and a half had passed. “Shall we stop for a while and have some refreshment?”

Juliana smiled, then whispered, “Should we disturb him or serve ourselves?”

Victor laughed. “He might be offended if we don’t allow him to do his job.”

The footman startled awake with a snort and rubbed his eyes.

Victor turned toward the drowsy man. “We’re ready for refreshment.”

The servant hopped to his feet, quickly retrieving the basket, laying out a blanket, plates of food, and a bottle of wine.

Victor poured Juliana a glass of wine, careful to avoid spilling it as he handed it to her.

“Thank goodness it is white wine, Victor.”

He laughed at the reference to her disastrous come-out, and nodding, took a sip from his own glass.

The cook had prepared little sandwiches, along with some cheese, bread, and fruit. Victor picked up a slice of orange. “I remember your brother’s orangery at his estate in Dorset. Does he transport the oranges from there?”

Juliana shook her head. “There is a smaller orangery at the back of Drake’s house here in London, which is fortuitous because if it didn’t already exist, I’m sure he would have had one built.

The orangery—especially the one on Drake’s estate—holds special significance for him and Honoria.

I discovered them there once.” She cast her gaze down to the sandwich on her plate, a shy smile breaking across her lips.

And from the blush rising to her cheeks, Victor surmised Juliana caught her brother and his wife in an embrace.

An errant thought popped into his mind. Was it wrong that he wanted to steal a kiss from Juliana as they hid among the foliage? “Perhaps you would show it to me when Their Graces aren’t—um—using it?”

Her deepened blush indicated he’d not only surmised correctly about Drake and Honoria but also that she understood his desire to imitate the duke and duchess. His pretend courtship with Juliana might prove enjoyable for both of them.

The footman, now fully awake, stood at attention, and Juliana raised her gaze toward him. “I’ve been so thoughtless,” she muttered. “Tobias, would you care for some refreshment?” She lifted the plate of sandwiches.

Eyes widening, the footman—Tobias—stared at Juliana in confusion.

As Juliana offered the plate with an outstretched hand, Victor lightly touched her wrist and shook his head, keeping his voice low. “Although I find your consideration most admirable, servants do not eat with us. It’s simply not done.”

Tobias’s gaze darted from the sandwiches to Juliana, to Victor, then back to the sandwiches. “No. But I thank you, miss.”

But the man had been away from the house as long as they had, and the eagerness at which he looked at the sandwiches said otherwise. Victor expected to hear the man’s stomach rumble. “When have you last eaten, Tobias?”

“I had a hearty breakfast, sir. His Grace treats us very well.”

The man hadn’t eaten since he’d broken his fast that morning? Not to mention servants rose well before the masters of the household. He had to be hungry.

Although Victor had been born into the aristocracy, Juliana was the one who exhibited nobility through her actions.

Face flushed, Juliana’s head bowed.

Shame, thick and black, coiled around his heart that he had made her feel ashamed. For what? Being kind? Caring for others?

Damn the rules of society. He leaned closer, and placing a finger under her chin, lifted it until her eyes met his.

“Forgive me. I only meant to guide you to ease your entry into society. There are proper rules of etiquette I urge you to follow when you’re among those in the ton .

But since it’s only the three of us, let us make an exception. It will be our secret.”

Tears had formed in her eyes, and she blinked them back. “Truly?”