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J uliana sensed the shift in Victor’s mood when he and Aunt Kitty returned.

She tamped down her disappointment that their outing had been interrupted, finding solace at least that Lady Cartwright and Miss Whyte did not reenter the shop.

Still, Aunt Kitty met her questioning glance with one that said we will discuss it later .

Curiosity pricked every inch of Juliana’s skin, and she was dying to know what had transpired between Victor, his mother, and Lydia Whyte.

Rather than discuss it, Victor suggested they finish their ices and go for a ride in Hyde Park. However, the weather, like Victor’s mood, had turned gloomy, and to provide him an excuse, Juliana pointed out Aunt Kitty’s rheumatism would suffer should they get caught in the rain.

They rode to Aunt Kitty’s in relative silence, and rather than have Victor return her home, Juliana feigned a headache. Aunt Kitty, quick to pick up on Juliana’s cues, told Victor she had a remedy and would see Juliana got home safely once her headache abated.

As Victor assisted her down from the carriage, his lips quirked up on one side the way Drake’s did when he planned something mischievous. Aunt Kitty disappeared inside her home, and Victor held onto Juliana’s hand. “Before you go. I wanted to apologize for ruining our afternoon.”

Before she could open her mouth and assure him he had nothing to be sorry about, he placed a finger to her lips. “But I must admit, I’m a little disappointed not to have a few more moments alone with you on our ride back without your aunt. Would it be bold of me to admit I hoped to steal a kiss?”

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her heart hammered in her chest. A kiss.

Perhaps she had been hasty feigning a malady.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, but lest he misunderstand, she said, “You can’t steal what is freely given.

” She peered around Victor’s tall body, dismayed that Aunt Kitty’s butler stood at attention in the open doorway. “However, we have an audience.”

Following her line of sight, Victor twisted around. When he turned back, he instructed the groom to wait with the phaeton, then grabbed Juliana’s hand. “Over here.” Victor lead Juliana behind a tall shrub at the front of the house, and a wide grin broke across his face. “Now, where were we?”

“You mentioned a kiss. Under the circumstances, a kiss would be most welcome.”

He tugged off his hat. A long strand of blond hair broke free from the queue’s restraint, the look both disheveled and dashing.

Juliana held her breath as Victor cupped her face with his free hand, then lowered his lips to hers.

She should have breathed, for Victor stole what little air remained in her lungs.

Tender, the light brush of his mouth tingled against her skin, the kiss impossibly sweet.

When he pulled back and took his delicious heat with him, she wanted to protest, but only a moment passed before he pressed his lips to hers again.

Passion in the second kiss buckled her knees, and she stumbled against him. Still cupping her cheek, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, his hat bumping against her bottom, and kept her upright as her head spun.

Long moments passed before he broke the kiss. “Forgive me,” he whispered, his breathing as ragged as hers. Yet, the corners of his mouth tipped up, indicating he wasn’t terribly sorry.

And neither was she. “Please don’t apologize. It was wonderful.”

“I should go.” He continued to hold her. “But I don’t want to.”

Neither did she, but she placed a hand on his chest. “Tomorrow?”

He nodded, then set his hat back on his head with a tap and led her back to the entrance, where Aunt Kitty’s butler still waited.

“Until tomorrow.” Victor bent and kissed her gloved fingers, his gaze never leaving hers.

She watched him climb into the carriage and drive away, and a contented sigh finally escaped.

“Miss?” the butler called.

When Victor’s carriage blended with the others and moved out of sight, Juliana turned and entered Aunt Kitty’s.

“Well? What detained you?” The old woman’s eyes twinkled with the question as Juliana joined her in the drawing room.

Warmth flooded her cheeks as she remembered Victor’s palm pressed tenderly against it. “Victor wanted to say goodbye.”

A knowing smile crept across Aunt Kitty’s face. “Did he? And how was that goodbye? What you’d hoped for?”

Juliana took a seat next to the countess. Reluctant to share such a precious moment with anyone, even Aunt Kitty, she opted for a simple but truthful answer. “It was. But what happened outside of Gunter’s? Why did Victor storm out?”

“I’m not entirely sure, my dear, but people underestimate these old ears of mine.

They hear better than those of a bat.” She laughed.

“Even an old bat. From what I could gather, Victor suspects Miss Whyte knows something about those sketches. I intend to do some of my own investigating. Whatever she knows she’s probably discussed with her mother, and Lady Whyte is as big a gossip as Lady Cartwright.

Not to mention those two are thick as thieves.

No doubt they’d orchestrated a union between that ninnyhammer and Mr. Pratt.

As old Willie said, ‘Something is rotten in Denmark.’”

“But Aunt, you don’t think Victor’s mother could have anything to do with that report?” Juliana couldn’t even imagine how devastated Victor would be.

“Not intentionally, no.” She patted Juliana’s hand. “Don’t worry your pretty head. Which speaking of, do you really have a headache?”

“No. But it was clear Victor’s mind was preoccupied.”

“Hmph. He doesn’t know what a treasure he has in you, child. But he will if I have anything to say about it. I’ll call my carriage to take you home.”

At home, Juliana had barely entered the drawing room when her mother asked, “Where is Victor? Did you encounter trouble?”

Before Juliana could recount how Victor’s mother and Miss Whyte had upset Victor, Honoria breezed into the drawing room.

“Who would have thought writing invitations would be so exhausting?” Contrary to her words, Honoria appeared energized. Her green eyes sparkled, and she practically vibrated.

Happy to see her sister-in-law so excited, Juliana tilted her head in encouragement. “For the ball?”

“Yes. But Drake and I discussed it before he left for Lords and decided it will be an engagement ball for you and Victor.”

“But what about little Kitty?” Juliana asked, not eager to be the center of attention at another ball.

“Kitty will hardly care. She will be sound asleep in her cradle.”

Juliana stifled a chuckle when Honoria muttered, “I hope.”

Mother nodded her approval. “I think it’s a splendid idea, Honoria. We shall show the ton that the Merricks and the Pendrakes do not cower in the face of gossip.”

Juliana only hoped it wouldn’t be as disastrous as her come-out ball.

On his way back to return his father’s phaeton, Victor’s lips tingled from Juliana’s kiss. The jolt racing through his body the first time their lips touched had surprised him, urging him to capture her mouth again and again.

A pleasant surprise indeed, and one that promised his betrothal—pretend or not—to Juliana Merrick would be no hardship.

In fact, he anticipated their next encounter with great eagerness.

Images coalesced in his mind of pausing briefly as he painted her portrait, perhaps again in the orangery.

With her mother preoccupied, he would take Juliana’s hand, and they would sneak between the lush foliage of the trees where he would steal more of those delicious kisses.

No. Not steal. Freely given. One thing Juliana continued to be was straightforward, and his first impression of her held steady. He liked her honesty, her love for her family, her compassion for others. She didn’t participate in idle gossip, especially against other women.

How many times had Victor listened to Lydia ramble on about another woman’s poor fashion taste, or someone’s freckles from being exposed to the sun, or a disadvantageous match someone had made because of some scandal?

Too many, and Lydia’s latest tirades had been directed toward Juliana in particular.

But had Juliana ever launched a counterattack, even though she could have found a myriad of things to say about Lydia? In fact, had she ever said an unkind word about anyone? No.

In short, Juliana Merrick was a breath of fresh air.

Trite? Perhaps, but true nonetheless, and Victor found being with his betrothed easy.

At least until that kiss had complicated things.

He would tread carefully as he sorted out his feelings and what exactly Miss Juliana Merrick meant to him.

Thoughts of a quiet day hidden away in the duke’s orangery and painting Juliana’s portrait—and perhaps enjoying more kisses—were dispelled the moment Victor walked through the door at the duke’s mansion the next day.

Raucous male laughter arose from deeper inside the home, and Victor glanced at Frampton in question.

“Mr. Beckham and Lady Charlotte have returned, sir. They are with the family in the drawing room.”

Victor followed Frampton, noting feminine laughter mingled with the more boisterous male voices. He drank in the scene before him.

Mr. Beckham stood in the center of the room, apparently relaying an amusing story. Juliana wiped at her eyes, but not in sorrow. Radiant, she beamed with joy. The duchess had a hand over her mouth, but the crinkle of her eyes gave her away. The duke slapped at his knee.

Even Lady Charlotte appeared amused. And although her mouth was pressed in a thin line, the corner twitched slightly.

But more surprising was the look of affection shining in her eyes as she gazed at her husband.

From the reports in The Muckraker, their marriage had been due to a compromising situation, but like the false claims against him and Juliana, Victor surmised the accusations against Mr. Beckham and Lady Charlotte had also been exaggerated if not blatantly false.