Page 28

W ith everything in her, Juliana wished to rein in her runaway words. To pull them back into her mouth as if they’d never been spoken. Mistake. She had made a horrible mistake. Worse than a mistake, she had trod on sensitive ground and opened a wound by asking Victor about Adalyn.

Victor’s horrified expression said it all. Blinking, he pulled back, removing his hand from hers and taking with it all his soothing warmth. “How do you know about Adalyn?” The pain in his voice slashed at her heart even more.

“Please, don’t be angry. You mentioned the sketches of a woman similar in appearance, and Honoria thought it might be Miss Lovelace.”

He jerked his gaze away, his hands fisting on his thighs. “I’m not angry.”

“You are. But please, don’t be angry with Honoria. Be angry with me for asking. I had no right to pry.”

He laughed, the sound humorless, dry, and brittle. “If you don’t have a right to ask, who does?” He exhaled an audible breath, then turned back to her. “I apologize. You took me off guard.”

Although facing her, he stared at a spot above her head, as if meeting her gaze directly would make what he had to say even more difficult.

“Yes. The sketches are of Miss Lovelace, but they aren’t as lurid as that detestable rag purports.

And to be clear, she did not pose for them.

I drew them from memory—and imagination. ”

His words did not surprise her, for Juliana had memorized every contour, every line of Victor’s face, the sparkle in his eyes, the arch of his brows, the curve of his lips when he smiled, the image forming so clearly that, when alone, she only had to close her eyes to summon it.

“Honoria mentioned Miss Lovelace resembles me. Or I resemble her.” Flustered, she hurried to amend her statement. “What I mean to say is, we resemble each other.”

His gaze snapped to hers, searching, questioning.

Could he see the insecurity lurking there? With her heart pounding a furious rhythm, she licked her lips and waited.

He nodded. “There is some resemblance; that is true. You both have blond hair, although hers is lighter, more of a silver blond, while yours is golden. Your blue eyes are more cornflower, while hers are cerulean.” His brow furrowed, and Juliana realized she had memorized that as well.

“Which whoever might have seen the sketches wouldn’t have deduced from them, as they are in pencil. ”

He shrugged, the gesture smooth like flowing liquid.

“But there are other differences. The tip of your nose turns up, just a little. Your face is a little fuller—here.” Featherlight, like an angel’s kiss, he brushed the back of his fingers against her cheeks, and a shiver of pleasure shimmied up her spine.

“Innocence and lightness shine in your eyes.” He grinned at her. “Especially when you’re laughing.”

Juliana cherished each word, pulling them close to her heart and holding them in an embrace.

“But a cursory glance, for example, one made in haste, might lead a person to conclude the sketches were of you, especially if my suspicion proves true.”

“Then you believe someone has seen them?”

“It is a distinct possibility, and something I’m going to investigate. However, I have something very important to do.”

“More important than discovering the person behind The Muckraker?” she asked, keeping her tone light and teasing.

“At the moment, yes.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box and opened the lid. “This was my grandmother’s. I would be honored if you would wear it as a sign of our betrothal.”

Held before her, the box contained the most delightful and whimsical ring Juliana had ever seen. Little blue petals adorned the band with tiny pearls in the center of each flower. She knew those flowers. “Forget-me-nots!” Her gaze shot to Victor’s.

His lips tipped up, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Are they?” He plucked the ring from its satiny bed and examined it. “Why they are. Excellent eye, Miss Merrick. Now, if I may have your finger.”

Fingers trembling with nervous excitement, she held out her left hand, and Victor slid the ring home. It fit perfectly.

“Do you like it? I can get you something else if?—”

Without thinking, Juliana flung herself into Victor’s arms, and he let out a small “Oomph.”

“I love it, Victor.” Tears blurred her vision when she looked up at his surprised expression. What had she done?

Before she could apologize for her utter lack of restraint, his expression softened, and he smiled warmly. “I’m glad.”

A tear escaped, trickling down her cheek, and Victor brushed it away with his thumb.

“Now, where shall we go to show the world we will stand up against gossipmongers? I’ve borrowed my father’s phaeton, which sits three comfortably. Would you like to go to Gunter’s for ices?”

Wary about facing condemning stares from people in the ton , Juliana hesitated, but Victor’s gentle touch gave her courage. She could face anything with him by her side. “That would be lovely.”

“Perhaps His Grace could accompany us as chaperone. A duke’s presence should silence some of the wagging tongues.”

Juliana shook her head. “He’s left for Lords, and I hate to ask Honoria. My mother, perhaps?”

“If you wish. However, no disrespect to your mother, but I hoped for someone with a little more power.”

He had a point. They needed someone strong who could deflect any barbs thrown their way. Immediately, one person came to mind. “I know someone! I’ll ask my mother if she will allow me to accompany you alone temporarily.”

“Who is it?” Victor’s lips tipped up playfully. “The sparkle in your eyes I spoke of earlier is there. You’re up to something.”

“You’ll have to wait. It’s a surprise.”

Giving her hand a squeeze, he rose. “Very well, go ask your mother. Wear your loveliest bonnet and put on a smile while I have the phaeton brought around.”

When Juliana told her mother her idea for a chaperone, her mother hugged her and agreed it was a marvelous choice. “I trust Victor to be a gentleman, and you don’t have far to go.”

Victor waited outside for Juliana and took her hand to assist her into the vehicle. Climbing next to her, Victor took the reins from the groom. “Where to?”

Juliana could hardly restrain her smile. “Aunt Kitty’s.”

Victor snapped the ribbons, laughing all the way as they rode down the street.

The Countess of Gryffin. Victor’s admiration for Juliana grew along with his laugh. His pretend fiancée was not only lovely, she was clever. “We could have walked.” He turned toward her and winked.

She wagged a finger at him, her blue eyes dancing merrily. “Ah, you forget we are going to Gunter’s. You and I could manage the walk there easily. However, Aunt Kitty could not.”

Although plenty of room remained between him and Juliana to adhere to propriety, the phaeton’s bench seat wasn’t overly large.

Yet, the fact that Lady Gryffin’s small frame would fit next to them easily was somehow disappointing.

The thought dipped in and out of Victor’s mind like a darting bird, unsure whether to land or make haste in an escape.

Before he had time to examine it further, he pulled the phaeton up to Lady Gryffin’s stately townhouse. After handing the reins to a groom, Victor assisted Juliana down from the vehicle and to the countess’s door.

The butler peered down his nose at them. “Who shall I say is calling?”

Didn’t the butler recognize Juliana? Victor glanced at her, his gaze catching the uptick in the corner of her mouth.

Victor held out a calling card. “Please tell the countess that Mr. Victor Pratt and Miss Juliana Merrick request the pleasure of her company.”

With a blink, the butler took the card and opened the door wider. “Please wait here. I shall see if my lady is receiving.”

After they stepped inside and the butler departed, Juliana whispered, “He knows very well who I am. It’s a game he likes to play. He even questions Drake as if he’s never seen him before. Brilliant idea handing him your card. I think it threw him off entirely.”

Down the hall, the countess’s voice rose. “Well, show them in, you fool!”

When the butler returned, his haughty manner remained, not appearing the least bit chagrined by his mistress’s chastisement. “Follow me.”

After leading them to a parlor, the butler bowed and took his leave. The countess’s gnarled hand gripped her cane as she rose. “Juliana. Come give your Aunt Kitty a kiss on the cheek.” She nodded toward Victor. “Mr. Pratt. We’ve met before, have we not?”

“Yes, my lady.” Victor bowed. “Briefly at Burwood’s house party last summer.”

“Of course. Of course. My eyes are weak, but I never forget a handsome face.” She reseated herself on the sofa and patted the cushion next to it. “What brings you both here? Is it that regrettable report in that rag The Muckraker ?”

As Juliana settled next to the countess, Victor took the lead, seating himself in a chair across from the ladies. “Partly. Although there is no truth to the accusation that Miss Merrick posed inappropriately, she has accepted my offer of marriage.”

“Hmm.” The countess studied him, her eyes sharper than she’d indicated. “An honorable young man. Although Juliana is not my niece by blood, her happiness is paramount to me. Do I make myself clear, young man?”

Victor smiled. “Quite. And I assure you, Miss Merrick’s happiness is also foremost in my mind.”

She waved him off. “But you are not here to get my blessing or permission, I’d wager.

Drake would have seen to that, and if he has agreed, then he must set great store by you, Mr. Pratt.

Tell me more about this false report. I’m sure my great nephew was less than pleased. How did you explain it to him?”

Victor recounted most of what he knew, explaining he had hopes of uncovering who was behind the presumption that his sketches were of Juliana.

The old woman’s eyebrow cocked. “I see. So you have sketches of another lady. Perhaps you are not as honorable as I believed.”