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F lanked by Drake on one side and Honoria on the other, Juliana pulled in a fortifying breath as they waited in the entrance of Lord and Lady Montgomery’s London townhouse.

Juliana had instantly liked the outspoken redhead and her more reserved husband when she’d met them at Drake’s house party the previous summer.

And Honoria assured her Bea would not stand for anyone mistreating a friend.

“You’re in for a real treat, Juliana,” Honoria leaned down to whisper.

“Susan told me she heard it from Lady Montgomery’s maid that Camilla Somersby will be singing this evening.

What a magnificent voice. It’s a shame she and Dr. Somersby were unable to attend the house party last year.

They might have saved me from the humiliation of singing that embarrassing song. ”

Drake’s lips twitched upward. “I doubt Simon would have allowed anyone else to sing that particular piece. That, my dear, was intended for us alone.”

Wedged between them, Juliana wanted to disappear into a puff of vapor at the lovesick expressions on her brother’s and sister-in-law’s faces.

Although Juliana and her mother hadn’t been present for Drake and Honoria’s initial performance of William and Mary , they had witnessed the heartfelt encore when Drake revealed his true identity—and proposed to Honoria—in front of all assembled.

Ahead of them in the queue, Lydia Whyte stirred a hurricane wind with her fan as she fawned over a gentleman Juliana didn’t recognize. “Who is that man?” She inclined her head toward the handsome man with brown hair.

Drake emitted what sounded like a low growl. “Stay away from him, Juliana. That is Lord Felix Davies. Before Simon and Charlotte left on their wedding trip to Wiltshire, he shared some unsavory information about Davies.”

Honoria blushed. “It pains me to think I recommended him as a prospective suitor for Priscilla. Thank goodness she saw through him.”

“And thank goodness you saw Dr. Marbry’s affection for Priscilla and turned down his proposal,” Drake said.

Mention of Priscilla Marbry led Juliana’s mind to Victor Pratt, Priscilla’s very attractive brother. Their last encounter had been bittersweet, their lovely dance marred by the unfortunate accident with her gown.

Would he be in attendance? Effervescence bubbled in Juliana’s veins as she scanned the room for Mr. Pratt, trying her best to appear nonchalant even as her pulse raced in anticipation.

The long months spent in seclusion at Hartridge House had done nothing to ease the twinge in her heart each time Victor Pratt popped into her thoughts—which admittedly occurred more often than it should have.

It wasn’t so much his handsome face, or even his kindness, but something deeper, more profound, that she couldn’t name. A sadness in his eyes tugged at her heart, and she wanted to give him comfort from whatever distressed him.

When they finally arrived to greet their hosts, a wide smile broke across Lady Montgomery’s face.

“Miss Merrick, you came! I’m so glad.” She leaned in, grasping Juliana’s hand and pulled her close to whisper, “Don’t let those gossips win.

They are mean-spirited and in dire need of something productive to fill their time instead of stirring up idle and hurtful rumors. ”

“Thank you, Lady Montgomery. But I’m afraid in my case the scandal sheet reported the truth.”

“Call me Bea. Everyone I care about does. And it isn’t so much as what was reported, but how it is twisted into something attacking the innocent.”

“How true,” Honoria said as she greeted Lord Montgomery.

“In fact”—she turned to greet Bea—“Charlotte wrote to me suggesting you join our little club. ” Honoria lowered her voice.

“It’s to root out the culprit responsible, but we operate under the guise of a charitable foundation.

Charlotte is one of our most logical thinkers, but with her away on her wedding trip—well. ”

Bea’s eyes lit up. “That sounds most intriguing. Let me know when you hold the next meeting, and I shall be there.”

“If anyone can solve a puzzle, it’s Bea,” Lord Montgomery said. “My wife is the cleverest person I know.”

Juliana had attended several of the meetings since Honoria and Drake’s marriage—at least until she exiled herself to Drake’s country estate.

“Lady Montgomery, that is, Bea, must be remarkable if Lady Charlotte recommended her.” It wasn’t that Juliana didn’t like Lady Charlotte, but she was a difficult person to understand, and other than Honoria and Lady Miranda, Charlotte seemed to have few friends. She barely tolerated Anne Weatherby.

And with The Muckraker’s attention on Juliana in recent months, she had an even more personal stake in unmasking the scoundrel. They could use all the help they could get.

They took their seats in the second row and reviewed the program a footman had handed them. Murmurs of voices and the pleasant, invigorating mix of sandalwood, cardamom, and cloves drifted from Juliana’s right.

“Switch places with me, Victor,” a woman’s voice said. “I don’t want to sit behind Ashton. He’s so tall.”

Juliana’s gaze turned to the right as Victor Pratt, Priscilla Marbry, and Dr. Marbry gathered at the end of the row of chairs.

The Duke of Ashton was indeed in the row ahead of them, and he turned around and greeted them. “Mrs. Marbry, Pratt, Marbry.” He began to rise. “If you prefer, Margaret and I can move to the aisle?—”

“No. No,” Mr. Pratt waved the duke to remain seated.

“My sister is being ridiculous, per usual. It’s a musicale, not a play or the opera, Cilla.

” And yet he entered the row before his sister and took the seat next to Juliana.

“Miss Merrick.” He nodded in greeting. “I trust you are not so silly as to complain about the height of someone in front of you.” His warm smile lit her from the inside out like sunshine breaking through a cloud after a storm.

“I’m simply pleased to be here at all, Mr. Pratt.” If she had uttered them earlier, her words would have been a prevarication, but at that moment, there was truth to them.

“As I suspected, you are a most sensible lady.”

Both Juliana’s heart and her cheeks heated at the compliment. “In your sister’s defense, her small stature makes it difficult to see what is happening, and perhaps she enjoys watching the expressions of those performing.”

“Thank you, Miss Merrick,” Mrs. Marbry said. “I knew I liked you.”

“Shh, Priscilla. It’s starting,” Dr. Marbry said.

Voices quieted, and everyone’s attention turned toward the front of the large room where Lady Montgomery—Bea—took her seat by the beautiful grand piano.

Lord Montgomery stood next to her and said, “Welcome, everyone, to the first official Annual Montgomery Musicale. Please, sit back, relax, and be entertained. My wife shall start us off with one of her favorite pieces.”

Juliana knew little about music other than the silly songs she used to sing as a child, but the beauty and complexity of the music Bea coaxed out of the instrument enraptured her.

Curious as to her brother’s reaction, she flicked her gaze toward him, only to catch his eyelids drooping.

Before Juliana could elbow him in the ribs, Honoria touched him on the sleeve and sent him a censorious glance.

Juliana stifled her chuckle at his mumbled, “What?” Poor Drake needed more sleep. Casting her gaze to her other side, she expected to find Mr. Pratt similarly inattentive. How wrong she was.

As if enthralled, he sat perfectly still, his hands resting on his thighs, his eyes glimmering with emotion.

When the final notes ceased their reverberations, the very air around them seemed to still in anticipation.

Applause, at first polite and reserved, grew louder, coming primarily from Mr. Pratt. “Brava!” he exclaimed.

If Juliana were honest with herself—which, for the most part, she tried to be—she had been infatuated with Mr. Pratt from the moment she met him at Drake’s house party.

Handsome and charming, with his long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, something mysterious had drawn her to him.

And although his gallantry in asking her to dance at her come-out ball had been marred by the unfortunate spill of ratafia on her white gown, he had occupied her dreams—both sleeping and awake—for the good part of the last several months.

But at that moment, she saw him with fresh eyes.

Not simply an attractive picture with no depth or substance, Mr. Pratt—Victor—was a sensitive man, moved deeply by the beauty around him.

And the reality of her discovery slammed into her hard.

He was the kind of man she could give her whole heart to.

If only she weren’t a disgraced commoner.

Victor swiped discreetly at his face, hoping no one noticed the tears forming in his eyes. Thank goodness Father had convinced Mother to stay at home, regretfully missing the event himself. Both had often criticized Victor for wearing his emotions like a badge of honor.

But he simply couldn’t hold it in. He’d forgotten how well Lady Montgomery played. Or perhaps his maudlin mood aligned with the poignant piece. Art in all its forms was his life’s blood, that which fed his spirit and nourished his mind.

He’d been reluctant to attend the musicale, remembering he’d first met Adalyn at one of the Saxtons’ events.

Fool that he was, Victor believed they had a connection when he offered to escort her to the National Gallery.

Attentive and charming, Adalyn appeared as enamored with him as he was with her.

Things were progressing swimmingly, until Lord Nash had shown up with Lady Honoria and joined them.

Was that when Nash began his scheme to steal Adalyn away?

Or had it been even sooner? When Victor thought about it, Nash had also been at that musicale. Had his instincts about Adalyn’s interest been that faulty? And if so, how could he trust them?