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F or two months after her horrendous come-out, Juliana had secreted herself away at Drake’s country seat in Dorset, too ashamed to show her face in London society.

Drake and Honoria had such high hopes for her, and she’d failed them miserably.

She would always be an outsider, the common born half-sister of a duke, struggling to fit in and feeling so out of place.

But love for her family and the call to be useful had brought both her and her mother back.

She wiped a bit of blackberry jam from her lips, the sweetness fading as a frown creased her brother’s forehead.

“What is it, Drake?” their mother asked.

Both Juliana and her mother worried about Drake since their return a week before.

The unexpected arrival of Drake and Honoria’s first child, a darling little girl they’d named Kitty, had been a call for celebration, but coupled with the also unexpected marriage of Simon, Drake’s man-of-business, the events had set her brother at sixes and sevens.

Drake toyed with a bit of toast on his plate. “I’m neglecting you both. Juliana should be attending routs and balls. As her brother and a peer, it’s my duty to see she’s well received.”

Juliana bit back the derisive snort at the pained expression on her brother’s face.

“I doubt even your authority as duke could accomplish that, Drake. Besides, your place is here with Honoria and Kitty when you’re not in Lords fighting for reform.

If Mother and I are invited to a party, she can accompany me. ”

From the expression on his face, Drake was well aware that any invitation from members of the ton would not be directly addressed to either Juliana or their mother.

Drake would simply bring Juliana along to any events he and Honoria attended, knowing full well people would be reluctant to refuse a duke.

Oh, there were still a few who would be so bold.

Lady Charlotte’s brother, the Marquess of Edgerton, had made his distaste for Drake evident on several occasions.

Drake said that although the man hadn’t given him the cut direct, Edgerton had scoffed at any plans for reform Drake had proposed in Lords.

Not that Edgerton invited Drake and Honoria to any events he hosted, so Juliana supposed it was a moot point.

On cue, Frampton arrived with a silver salver piled high with correspondence.

Drake sighed. “Thank you, Frampton.” He grinned sheepishly. “Is it terrible to wish Honoria would recover more quickly so she can sift through this—mess?”

“Did I hear my name?” Honoria breezed into the morning room. Although the dark smudges under her eyes remained, she appeared more rested than usual.

Drake held up the pile of correspondence. “You arrived in the nick of time. That is, if you’re up to making sense of this.”

“Kitty slept an entire four hours last night. I feel like a new woman.” She kissed Drake on the cheek before proceeding to the sideboard to serve herself.

As Honoria gracefully nibbled her breakfast, she efficiently worked her way through the pile of correspondence, glancing at each item and placing it in a particular pile.

“How does she know where to put things?” Juliana whispered so as not to break Honoria’s concentration.

“Years of training that so far both she and Simon have failed to transfer to me.” Drake’s countenance fell at his own mention of his friend’s recent scandal.

Their mother patted Drake’s hand. “I have faith in you, Son.”

“He doesn’t give himself enough credit, Mother,” Honoria said without looking up from the stack of letters. “For example, what about this one, Drake?” She held up the letter, neatly folded and addressed with a precise hand.

“Lady Montgomery?” Drake placed his cup down, his brow hitching. “That would go in the open at once pile.”

“See?” Honoria grinned as she broke the seal on the missive.

“Oh!” Her face brightened, making her appear even more rested than before.

“The musicale! It says Lord and Lady Montgomery are officially taking over from her parents, Lord and Lady Saxton. Oh, we simply must attend. Juliana, you will adore it. It’s an annual event, and it will be the perfect opportunity to make your appearance in society again. You will be among the best of friends.”

Doubt gave a little groan of protest, and Juliana tried to make an excuse. “When is it? Isn’t it too soon for you to be participating in anything?”

Both Juliana’s mother and Honoria gave a little laugh.

“We’re not as fragile as all that, my dear,” Mama said. “We must trust Honoria’s judgment.”

“It’s not for another three weeks. And to be honest, I’m aching to get out of the house.”

Drake straightened to attention. “Why didn’t you say anything? I would have taken you out in the carriage for some air.”

“Because I knew you enjoyed coddling me. I’ll confirm with Ashton before I send our reply, but all I have to do is sit, enjoy the music, and applaud.”

“You are a wonder,” Drake said, and leaned over to kiss her. “Before you arrived, I told Juliana I was failing in my duties to get her out into society. And here you have solved the problem for us.”

Honoria laughed. “In fairness, Bea and Laurence have solved the problem. I merely opened the invitation.”

Apparently, they were going to a musicale.

Whether Juliana wanted to or not.

Reclined on the sofa in his father’s drawing room, Victor propped himself up on one arm and glared at his sister. “I am not sulking. And don’t you have a husband to annoy? It’s bad enough with Mother back in London. I don’t need you to badger me as well.”

“Did I hear someone mention me?” His mother swooped into the room, further darkening his already dreary day.

Priscilla stifled a giggle behind her hand.

Ha! She laughs now . How quickly Cilla had forgotten their mother’s machinations to secure a duke as a husband for Cilla. Or perhaps not. Victor’s mood was too bleak to parse it out.

Pinched between her thumb and forefinger, the piece of paper his mother waved in the air caused his stomach to tumble. Another invitation. Victor plopped back against the sofa with an audible, “ Ough.”

His mother narrowed her eyes, and his stomach tightened further.

Pushing Victor’s legs off the sofa, his mother sat in the vacated spot. “This arrived moments ago. The Saxtons are turning over the reins for their annual musicale to Lord and Lady Montgomery. I suppose it’s because of that expensive piano Lord Montgomery purchased from Lord Nash.”

Victor reluctantly straightened, ignoring the irritation bubbling in his veins over that rake Nash’s name.

“And they’re inviting you? ” Victor should have been ashamed at the condescending tone of his voice, especially when his mother flinched.

However, he was too absorbed in his own problems to worry about hurting his mother’s feelings.

And mentioning the blackguard who had stolen the woman Victor loved right from under his nose didn’t help.

He snatched the invitation from her fingers and turned the parchment over, noting his father’s name on the address.

“You’re opening Father’s correspondence now? ”

“He was preoccupied with a letter from his estate manager in Lincolnshire. No doubt some crisis with the sheep.”

Cilla groaned, and it was Victor’s turn to stifle a chuckle. His sister had told him how she’d nearly gone mad exiled in the countryside as she was for several years after her disgrace with the Duke of Ashton.

His mother ignored her and continued to ramble on with her pitiful excuse for pilfering her husband’s mail.

“...and I just happened to notice Lady Montgomery’s precise handwriting peeking out from beneath the pile of letters.

She’s such a strange creature with all her talk of science; I didn’t want to bother your father with her nonsense. ”

“Hmm,” Victor mumbled.

“Bea is not strange, Mama,” Cilla said. “She’s brilliant. And because she’s my husband’s sister, I expect you to speak of her more kindly.”

“Hear, hear,” Victor said, that time a bit more loudly.

His mother raised an eyebrow. “Such disrespect from my own children.”

Victor hoped the crisis in Lincolnshire would necessitate his mother’s return to the country. His father was much too busy arguing for reform in the House. “Respect must be earned, Mother.”

“Which I have by giving birth to you both. Twenty hours of labor for you, Victor, and eighteen for Priscilla.”

Cilla blanched, her eyes widening comically. Her hand drifted toward her abdomen. Was she... ?

Victor shot a glance toward his mother, who remained oblivious to Cilla’s reaction, and instead snatched the invitation back from Victor’s grasp.

“They won’t turn me away if I’m with your father?—”

Cilla mumbled, “Bea might.”

“And of course, you must attend, Victor. You’ve been moping around here far too long. It’s time you settled down, chose a bride, and married. Your father won’t live forever.”

“Father is hale and hearty, Mother,” Victor argued, too reluctant to agree with what he knew in his heart to be right. He did have to marry—someday. As his father’s heir, it was Victor’s duty to produce his own heir. And he would need a respectable bride for that.

“I understand Miss Whyte is still unattached,” his mother said. “Why have you stopped calling on her, Victor? She is equal in rank to us, and her mother told me her father has increased her dowry. Lord Whyte is most eager to have her married by Michaelmas.”

“It’s no wonder, Mother,” Victor said. “Lydia flirts with anything in trousers.”

Cilla nodded. “That’s true. I worried during the duke’s house party last summer that she would get her hooks into the duke.”

Victor shuddered at the thought of a match with Miss Whyte. She would probably beat her husband to death with her fan. “Which one? The real one pretending to be the man of business or the man of business pretending to be the duke?”

“Such a scandal,” his mother said.

Victor held his tongue, but the thought formed, nonetheless. You’re one to talk .

“The real one pretending to be the man of business. It didn’t take me long to see that Honoria had feelings for Burwood—Mr. Merrick”—Cilla waved a hand—“goodness, it’s still confusing.

Her husband, the duke. The way Lydia threw herself at the poor man, it’s a wonder Honoria didn’t pull every blond hair out of Lydia’s head. ”

Victor chuckled. “Her Grace is not you, Cilla. I don’t think I’ve ever met any woman as unassuming as the Duchess of Burwood. But I am very happy she has found happiness with Burwood. He seems an excellent man, not to mention an accomplished horseman.”

“Why do men put such store in horsemanship?” When Victor opened his mouth to explain, Cilla waved it away. “But truly, I am thrilled for her as well. Honoria has been a remarkably good friend to me.”

“Still, you both would be wise to avoid that household altogether, even if he is a duke,” their mother continued. “ The Muckraker reported yet another scandal. This time with the pretender, Mr. Beckham. I was, however, shocked to learn of Lady Charlotte Talbot’s part in the incident.”

“Why do you read that rubbish?” Victor shook his head. “Most of it isn’t true.”

Cilla grimaced. “I’m afraid in this instance, some of it is true. When I called on Honoria to meet her daughter, she confirmed that Mr. Beckham and Lady Charlotte were married and left on their wedding trip to Wiltshire.”

Their mother huffed an exasperated sigh. “One less eligible woman for you, Victor. Now, she would have been a feather in your cap. Sister of a marquess.” She tsked and shook her head. “What a step down she has taken! A plain mister .”

“A very wealthy mister, from what Honoria says,” Cilla added.

Victor enjoyed watching his mother’s eyes widen at that particular bit of news.

For the most part, he was grateful his mother’s fascination with gossip had disrupted her mission to find him a wife.

His heart wasn’t ready for that quite yet.

For a multitude of reasons, he and Lady Charlotte would have made a dreadful match, the least of which would have been that Lord Nash would have been his brother by marriage.

Victor simply couldn’t countenance that. It would be torture having the man flaunt his happiness with Miss Lovelace—err, Lady Nash Talbot—in Victor’s face. Did they go by their honorifics in America, or were they known as Mr. and Mrs. Talbot?

No matter, he supposed. But the fact that a woman as kind and good as Adalyn Lovelace had thrown him over for a despicable, no-good rake like Nash Talbot still galled.

Victor thought he and Adalyn had formed an attachment.

He’d done his utmost to treat her with respect as a gentleman should, and what did it get him? A broken heart.

His unenthusiastic courting of Lydia, mostly to appease his mother, but also to put Adalyn out of his mind, had dwindled to sporadic calls, which was unfair to both of them.

As his mother droned on about the importance of securing the family’s title and family line, Victor stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Mother, I have an important meeting.”

His mother’s teacup clanked to her saucer. “With whom?”

With myself—in silence . “Since I’ve reached my majority, Mother, I no longer have to provide you with an account of my appointments.”

He almost laughed at the indignant expression on his mother’s face, but to carry his lie, he found the strength to suppress it.

Cilla placed her tea down, rose, and joined Victor. “I should leave as well. I promised Timothy I would be at the clinic this afternoon.”

Their mother gaped. “But didn’t you just arrive? I don’t know why you feel the need to lower yourself and work at that clinic! You both will be the death of me.”

Making their escape, Victor swept Cilla from the room. Once outside of his mother’s hearing, he gave his sister a stern brotherly examination. “Cilla. Are you...?”

“Am I what? Avoiding Mama? Yes.”

“No. Are you...?” He waved a hand in a circular motion around her abdomen.

His sister laughed. “Men. So fearful of one word. Am I expecting? Pregnant?”

Victor grimaced, and Cilla laughed even louder.

She caressed her stomach. “I believe so. Timothy instructed me to sleep in today and rest.”

“But, Cilla, that’s wonderful news.”

Tears welled in his sister’s eyes. “We have been hoping for so long.”

“Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for.”

And as Victor escorted Cilla from the house, he wondered if that was true for him as well. But where was the woman waiting for him who would erase Adalyn Lovelace from his mind?