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L ater that evening, after Drake and Simon left, chuckling like nodcocks over some prank they planned to play on Victor, Juliana listened politely as Charlotte explained to Nash and Adalyn everything that led up to her marriage to Simon.

When everyone else seemed preoccupied with Charlotte’s recounting—and Nash barked a riotous laugh at the part where Simon vomited on their brother—Honoria leaned close and whispered, “Drake had no idea of Victor and Adalyn’s history, but I advised him before they left this evening.

I asked him to refrain from mentioning Nash and Adalyn’s arrival to Victor.

If you’re uncomfortable having Adalyn and Nash here in the house, I will do my utmost to find a delicate solution. Perhaps I should speak to Adalyn.”

Juliana squeezed Honoria’s hand. “There is no need for that. They’re Charlotte’s family, and this is her home now, too. Drake did what any good man should do.” Juliana dearly loved her sister-in-law and understood what an uncomfortable position Nash and Adalyn’s arrival had placed her in.

Honoria gave her a wan smile. “Have faith in Victor. In his affection for you.”

If only she could. But Honoria didn’t know about Victor’s slip.

Ever since the fateful kiss when Victor uttered Adalyn’s name, Juliana’s faith in capturing Victor’s heart had withered.

And with Adalyn’s arrival, Juliana suspected that when faced again with the woman he loved, Victor would not only allow her to cry off from the wedding—he would welcome it.

Juliana would only pale in the comparison.

In moments of weakness, she longed to share her heartache with her mother or Honoria, to unburden her heart and seek their wise counsel.

But how could she explain Victor’s blunder and not reveal their courtship was a sham?

She had promised him to keep their pretense a secret, and she would not betray him.

She would hold her tongue and hope for the best while she prepared for the worst. The ball would decide much. In a little more than a day, she would no doubt have her answer.

Adalyn had taken Benjamin and Mena upstairs for bed, leaving Nash with the ladies.

Juliana’s mother had a myriad of questions about America, which Nash answered happily.

He seemed so very different from Victor.

Not only in coloring, with his dark hair and almost black eyes compared to Victor’s blond hair and blue eyes, but where Victor practically wore his heart on his sleeve, Nash seemed guarded, as if he were holding in all his emotions.

He had much in common with his sister, Charlotte. And yet, Juliana sensed the man didn’t miss a thing, and she especially felt as if he were taking her apart bit by bit and examining her.

The sensation was disconcerting.

Covering her mouth, she yawned. “If you would excuse me, tomorrow is going to be an eventful day. I think I’ll retire to my room and continue reading my book.”

Nash chuckled. “Another woman who loves to read, like the duchess. What book was it you raved about when I was calling on you?”

“ Pride And Prejudice ,” Honoria said.

Charlotte grinned. “An excellent book. Reminiscent of Simon’s and my fraught relationship.”

“Fraught?” Nash frowned. “The man seems overly agreeable.” He held up his hand, saying with a chuckle, “Never mind. That explains it.”

When Juliana rose, Nash did as well. At first, she thought he’d done so as a simple matter of courtesy, but he bowed to Honoria. “I think I shall retire as well. I’ll escort you upstairs, Miss Merrick. Good night, Your Grace. Mrs. Merrick. Lottie.”

“I shall never forgive you for letting that slip in front of Simon,” Charlotte grumbled.

Nash threw back his head in laughter. “After you, Miss Merrick.”

They ascended the stairs in silence, Nash with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression pensive.

“You seem deep in thought, Lord Nash.”

“Simply Nash, Miss Merrick,” he reminded her. “May I speak frankly?”

“Please call me Juliana. I’m having enough difficulty adjusting to my brother being a duke. And I much prefer people be direct.”

A small smile curved his lips. “You must appreciate my sister, then.”

She couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Juliana, if Victor Pratt doesn’t see what a treasure he has in you, then he is more of a fool than I took him for.”

Juliana’s mind stuttered, and blinking, she jerked back.

From the way he’d studied her since his arrival, she expected him to comment on her resemblance to his wife, specifically in regard to Victor’s attachment.

But not that. She wasn’t sure if it was more a compliment to her or an insult to Victor.

“I’ve surprised you. Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.

It’s obvious you’re an intelligent young woman.

You’ve noticed your similarity in appearance to my wife.

And I suspect you know Mr. Pratt had hopes for an attachment with her several years ago.

But let me be clear, Juliana. I don’t believe he would have made Adalyn happy.

My wife is a physician. She likes to fix broken people, and—unlike myself—Mr. Pratt is not damaged enough.

In turn, Adalyn would not have made him happy, and I believe you will.

Do you realize your face lights up when someone speaks his name? ”

Her cheeks warmed. Was she that transparent?

“If you believe my wife’s and my presence will in any way have a negative impact on the ball tomorrow night, say the word and we shall make ourselves scarce.”

How could such a dangerous-looking man be so kind and insightful? “To be honest, I would rather know the truth of Victor’s feelings.”

Nash nodded. “Very well. As I said, Pratt is a fool if he doesn’t appreciate you.”

At the top of the staircase, he bowed and left her.

And she prayed with her whole heart he was correct.

Contrary to Victor’s supposition about the duke’s and Mr. Beckham’s state of inebriation, both were lucid during the carriage ride to The Knave. However, the duke appeared on the verge of saying something several times before turning away and staring out the carriage window.

What did they have up their sleeves?

“Are you nervous, Pratt?” Mr. Beckham asked.

Victor chuckled. “About going to a gaming hell?”

Mr. Beckham turned toward the duke. “Oh, he’s nervous, all right.” He then directed his attention back to Victor. “No, you dolt. About marriage. It’s not so bad. And it does have some advantages.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

The duke shot Mr. Beckham a glare. “Did you forget he’s marrying my sister? I don’t want to think about that. ”

“Your Grace, I assure you I will treat your sister with the utmost respect.”

“Don’t ‘Your Grace’ him this evening, Victor. We’re Simon and Drake. Simply three men out for a bit of fun. And don’t mind my friend here, it took him forever to?—”

The duke, that is Drake, elbowed Simon in the ribs. “Never mind him. And I know what goes on between a man and a woman. But she’s my sister , for God’s sake.” He glared again at Simon, who laughed.

As he had before, Victor thought being a part of the duke’s family might be rather enjoyable.

The carriage came to a halt, and the driver lowered the steps. Victor had heard the talk about The Knave , but he’d yet to enjoy its attractions himself.

A man the size of a young oak stood at attention at the door.

“Hartley, my good man! How fare you this fine evening?” Simon asked.

The man grunted. Victor swallowed as the man proceeded to look both him and Drake over. “Friends of yours, Beckham?”

“Indeed, and this one in particular has quite a lot of blunt to lose!” Simon patted Drake on the shoulder.

Hartley’s face broke into a wide grin, and he pushed the door open with one large paw. “Then, by all means!”

As they stepped past the man, Victor craned his neck back to stare at the fellow. “Are you certain this place is safe?”

His question was answered the moment he returned his gaze inside the building.

Elegantly furnished, the establishment almost compared to White’s—other than the intermittent shouts of curses or exclamations of triumph peppering the air.

One fellow flung his cards across the table at another as Victor and his companions passed.

Recognizable faces peered up and nodded a silent greeting.

Lord Harcourt sat at a table with Andrew Weatherby, a cheroot clenched between his teeth as he scooped up his winnings.

Other men Victor didn’t recognize sat alongside peers and landed gentry.

Not as impeccably dressed as their table companions, their groans at losses, or whoops of joy at their wins were no more boisterous than those of the upper-class gentlemen.

“This place is marvelous.” Barely audible over the unfiltered conversation and clink of glasses, Drake’s words held a touch of wonder.

Victor agreed. “It’s like the best of both worlds. Less restrictive than White’s, but just as elegant. And safer than The Devil’s Draw .” Victor shuddered, remembering the one time he had ventured into the gaming hell in the East End. Never again!

Simon grinned. “I told you. Now, come. Here’s a table with some vacant seats.”

Victor hesitated at the sight of Lord Middlebury seated next to Lord Whyte at the table Simon indicated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Simon winked. “It’s perfect; we can begin Operation Catch Gus.”

Drake laughed and shook his head. “Is that what you’re calling it? That’s ridiculous.”

Victor frowned. “Who is Gus?”

“He’s an enormous brown trout on my father’s property. Slippery devil. We’ve been trying to catch him for years. Much like the culprit of The Muckraker . And besides, my wife gave the name for our plans her stamp of approval when I suggested it last night.”

Drake chuckled again. “You must have caught her half asleep.”

“Caught!” Simon barked a laugh. “Well done, Drake. But Charlotte was in a relaxed state and most agreeable, if you understand my meaning. Now, Drake, why don’t you toss out a line and see if we get a bite?”