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“But what could this mean for Burwood? Will Grey challenge his claim with the College of Arms? Is there proof of a marriage in a church register somewhere?”

Aunt Kitty patted his arm. “Those, my dear boy, are very good questions.”

And as Victor turned, he contained his satisfaction at the wide-eyed expression on Lydia’s face.

Line cast. Bait taken.

Once Lydia had scurried off, Victor escorted Aunt Kitty back to her seat with the other widows. Noticing Davies lurking around the refreshment table next to the Duke of Ashton, Victor caught Nash’s eye as he finished his dance with the Duchess of Ashton. Perfect timing.

Victor pulled out his pocket watch and tilted his head in the direction of their target. As Nash escorted Her Grace back to her husband’s side, Victor moved to join them. The natural turn of events couldn’t have been more perfect.

Victor bowed before the duke and assumed a position allowing him to discreetly watch Davies from the corner of his eye. “Your Grace. Thank you again for sharing this special night with Miss Merrick and me. We’re honored by your presence.”

Davies chuffed an obviously derisive laugh.

Perfect. He could hear them clearly.

His back toward Davies, Ashton gave a wink. “How are the investments going, Nash?”

“Not as well as I’d hoped. We’ve taken on some heavy losses due to labor issues with the railway development. However, I have a new lead here in England that might be of interest to you. You as well, Pratt. Consider it an early wedding gift.”

“Oh?” The intrigued tone of Ashton’s voice couldn’t have been more sincere. “I’m not much of a gambler, as you well know.”

“This is no fool’s bet. And the proceeds could fund your clinic for years. Although I’d like to keep my investments close to home in America, this is too good to pass up. So I’ve contacted my old solicitor to handle things for me.”

“Pray tell.” Ashton lifted a hand in encouragement.

As Nash lowered his voice conspiratorially, Davies inched forward, his face a mask of focused attentiveness. “Excitement is growing with the anticipated opening of the L&MR later this year.”

“The Liverpool and Manchester Railway?” Victor asked, genuinely curious as to where Nash was going.

“Exactly,” Nash said. “And there has been increasing interest in building a line linking London and Birmingham and also with the L&MR. They’re keeping things very hushed at the moment, but I have a contact who is selling shares.”

“And do you trust him?” Ashton asked.

Davies edged nearer. Two more paces and Ashton would tread on him.

A gleam appeared in Nash’s eyes as they flickered toward Davies doing his utmost to appear interested in his glass of ratafia.

“As much as I trust anyone. If I provide his name, you must promise to keep it in strictest confidences, Ashton. You, too, Pratt. They wish to limit new investors to half a dozen, and they’re only accepting investors with deep pockets. ”

“Of course.” Ashton nodded. “You have my word.”

Victor joined in. “Mine, as well. The information will go no further than the three of us.”

With great solemnity, Nash spoke the name, “Harry Hudson.” He then jerked his head up as if only then noticing Lord Felix. “What do you want, Davies? This is a private conversation.”

“Pardon?” Davies turned, his expression as if Victor and his companions had materialized out of thin air.

“Were you saying something to me? I’m afraid I was off in a world of my own.

” He made a great act of scanning the room.

“Ah, I have yet to dance with your betrothed, Pratt. And there she is without a partner for the next set. And for the waltz, no less. If you will excuse me.”

Victor’s body stiffened. How could he have been so careless to not realize it was time for his next set with Juliana? “Oh, no, you don’t, Davies. That dance is mine.”

Nash laughed. “You’d better hurry. I see Middlebury approaching as well.”

Damn. Victor mumbled a hurried, “Pardon me,” as he pushed past several guests to reach Juliana just as the orchestra was striking up the first notes of the waltz.

With a tap to Middlebury’s shoulder, Victor wedged his way in front of him. “This dance is mine, Middlebury.”

Juliana’s lovely blue eyes twinkled as Victor pulled her into his arms. “Thank you for rescuing me. I was worried you’d forgotten.”

“Never.” He pushed back the guilt, knowing he’d almost done just that.

The playfulness in her smile vanished. “Although I saw you speaking with Lord Nash and the duke. Is all well?”

“Oh, that. Yes. Yes. Nash dropped a bit of information in earshot of Davies, and I was just there to assist.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re helping Nash?”

“Well, Nash wanted to include me because he knew I had a personal stake wanting to see Davies brought down after how he treated you. I didn’t do much other than give a signal when all the players were in place.”

“It sounds like you’ve made amends with him.”

Victor wanted to laugh, but in some respects, perhaps he had. “I’m trying. And he had a point that Davies had done more harm to Lady Charlotte, so Nash wanted some retribution.”

“Did he mention something about his investments?”

Victor nodded. “He did, and I would like to ask him if any part of what he said was true. It sounds like an incredible opportunity. But”—he twirled her on the dance floor—“let’s not talk about setting traps or dull boring things like investments. Not when I have you in my arms at last.”

Juliana’s cheeks pinked just as he’d hoped. “If you wish.”

“Good. Because right now, I only want to concentrate on you. In fact, I have something important to tell you. Why don’t you meet me in the orangery later?”

Her blush deepened. “When?”

“Who is your next set with?”

“I believe Lord Montgomery.”

Victor breathed a sigh of relief her next partner wasn’t Davies or Middlebury. “Finish the set with him, then wait a few minutes. I’ll exit the ballroom first so as not to arouse suspicion.”

With Juliana’s agreement, Victor focused on the waltz and the feel of Juliana in his arms. His hand pressed against her waist, his other clasping hers in a gentle caress.

Even through their gloves and the fabric of her gown, heat traveled from his fingers up his arms, spreading through him to find a resting place in his chest. Like basking under the sun on a warm summer day, comforting warmth reassured him and validated the affection he’d begun to acknowledge for his intended.

He would tell her as much. That their attachment, first a pretense to repair her reputation and dissuade his mother from throwing unmarried women in his path, had—over the course of time—become real.

And as for Adalyn, he would assure Juliana that his past infatuation had faded into oblivion.

He wanted to have her alone when he told her.

To have the freedom to express the emotions they both felt.

Excitement bubbled in his veins as he imagined Juliana’s joy, her kiss, her whispered her name on his lips.

Juliana .

Juliana.

Juliana.

“Victor? Victor?”

Juliana’s confused gaze coupled with the repeat of his name snapped him out of his lovely daydream, only then noticing the music had stopped.

Curious gazes turned toward them. Smiles and muted laughter followed.

Victor couldn’t contain his grin, and he bowed over Juliana’s hand, then placed a soft kiss on it, before whispering, “Orangery. After the next set.”

He couldn’t wait.