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H ad she lost her mind? Juliana pulled her hand back as if Victor’s face had scorched her fingers. And although Victor’s tears were hot, it was the heat of his gaze that startled her back to reality and the impropriety of her action.

A deep cough sounded beside her, and she spun around.

Drake lifted a castigatory brow, his gaze then flitting to Victor.

Juliana’s face burned. Desperately, she searched for something clever to say to save herself from the awkward situation. “It’s warm in here.”

Ugh. Heat flared anew in her cheeks.

“Perhaps some refreshment, Miss Merrick?” Victor asked, drawing her attention back to him. He glanced down at his program. “Miss Whyte is to play her flute next.” Mischief shone in his blue eyes. “If we excuse ourselves now, no one will be the wiser.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Drake said, employing his ducal growl. Really, could her brother be more obvious? He turned toward Honoria. “May I bring you something, darling?”

Honoria shook her head. “I’ll join you. A stretch will do me good.”

Disappointment mingled with relief that although she wouldn’t have a few moments alone with Victor, at least Honoria would temper Drake’s protective interference.

Victor made his excuse to his sister, who waved him away as if she couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.

Juliana chuckled to herself. Regardless of social class, there appeared to be a universality among siblings. “Is your sister older or younger than you, Mr. Pratt?” Juliana asked as they exited the row and followed Drake and Honoria toward the refreshment table.

“Younger.” A grin broke across his handsome face. “And she would be appalled to know you thought she might be older than I. Should I tell her?” He winked.

Would the infernal heat never leave her face? “Oh, please don’t. It’s only that I noticed she appears to... um...tell you what to do.”

He laughed, the sound deep and sensual, vibrating across her skin and raising gooseflesh. “You mean she’s bossy.”

Juliana wanted to crawl into the hole she had dug for herself.

Victor leaned down, his breath brushing against her face. “Not to worry, Miss Merrick. Cilla was born bossy.”

“Cilla. What a lovely nickname. Drake calls me Jules.” She scrunched up her nose.

At the sound of his name, Drake peered over her shoulder. “Since you acted more like a boy growing up, it seemed fitting.” His gaze moved toward Victor—thankfully less confrontational than before. “My sister is more comfortable astride a horse than in ballrooms.”

Victor’s blond brows arched. “Astride? Not sidesaddle?”

Juliana wanted to kick Drake in his aristocratic shins. However, rather than scandalized, Victor seemed intrigued.

“When I was a groom on Stratford’s estate,” Drake explained, “Juliana helped me exercise the horses. Mother tried to encourage her to ride sidesaddle, but...” He shrugged his shoulders.

“At the time she was so young, it hardly seemed important to press the issue. But she is an excellent horsewoman, and we’ve had a special riding habit made for her that ensures her propriety. ”

Honoria gave a delicate cough. “Mr. Pratt is also an excellent horseman, Juliana.”

Juliana slid a glance toward Victor, who brushed off the compliment. “Until I fell off my horse during the fox hunt. It is your husband, Your Grace, who can outride us all.”

When Drake squared his shoulders, Juliana fought a smile. It would appear Mr. Pratt knew how to win her brother over.

Honoria squeezed Drake’s arm. “Perhaps we could all go riding along Rotten Row. Ashton said I may resume my normal activities now. What do you say, Mr. Pratt? Will you join us?”

Victor blinked, then his gaze flicked toward Juliana. “Well, I suppose.”

Juliana wanted to crawl under the refreshment table where they had just arrived. The man no doubt felt cornered into accepting.

“Lemonade or ratafia, Miss Merrick?” Victor asked.

Juliana scanned the room, pleased to find Lydia taking a seat on the dais in preparation for her performance. Still, perhaps it was wise to be safe. “Lemonade.”

Victor’s blue eyes danced. “Excellent choice.” He held up two fingers to the footman serving the beverages.

Receiving the cup from Victor, Juliana lowered her voice. “Do not feel obligated to accept the invitation to ride, Mr. Pratt. If you choose to beg off, I would understand.”

“Nonsense, Miss Merrick. Why would I turn down an opportunity to go riding with a duke and duchess?”

Juliana’s stomach plummeted to her toes. Of course he accepted because of Drake and Honoria.

“Not to mention,” Victor continued, “the duke’s lovely sister riding astride her mount.”

Oh! Firefly wings lifted her stomach back to its rightful position.

Sour notes screeched through the air as Lydia tuned her flute, and Drake’s eyes grew comically wide.

“Ah,” her brother said with a nod of his head. “I understand the need to distance ourselves at the refreshment table. Thank you, Pratt.”

Victor grinned, sending Juliana’s heart fluttering. “My pleasure. Anything to lessen the effects of Miss Whyte massacring Mozart.”

Fortunately, once Lydia began to actually play, the notes improved.

Juliana sipped her lemonade. “You’ve heard Miss Whyte play before?”

“Yes, which is why I’m wondering who invited her to perform. The Montgomerys have better taste.”

“Your mother insisted,” Bea said, stepping from behind Victor where her short stature had hidden her from view. “Well, I should say your mother and then my mother.”

“Then I apologize for my family, Lady Montgomery.”

Bea waved it away. “It might work to our advantage. Lizzie, our oldest, is learning to play the violin. Dr. Somersby is teaching her and says she has promise. My hope is she won’t be the least talented on the program.”

“Will she be playing this evening?” Juliana asked.

“Heavens, no. She’s only four. But I expect Pockets, Dr. and Camilla Somersby’s adopted son, might be joining our event in a few years. Whenever he’s home from Eton, he joins Lizzie in her lessons. He’s quite good.”

“Pockets?” Juliana asked, intrigued by the odd name.

“Along with Manny, he was one of the children Ashton rescued from that horrible man, Coodibilis. How someone could use children for their own gain is unfathomable.” Honoria shook her head.

“His name fit him—despicable. And of course, we discovered Miss Fingers—that is Mena—later. All orphans, the children survived on the streets by pick-pocketing.”

Ah. The names made sense. Juliana exchanged a look with Drake. “I never realized there was so much excitement among society folk.”

Beside her, Victor chortled. “There isn’t usually. Except with this lot.” He waved a hand toward where Priscilla and Dr. Marbry chatted with the Duke and Duchess of Ashton.

“Speaking of excitement, how are Lady Charlotte and Mr. Beckham getting along?” Bea asked. “Laurence and I saw them right after that reprehensible report in The Muckraker. ”

“Did I hear something about The Muckraker? ” Felix Davies said, appearing as if from thin air.

The man was attractive, older than Victor, perhaps in his mid-thirties, if Juliana had to guess.

His gaze raked over her, and his sharp, light-brown eyes reminded her of a cat ready to pounce.

“Miss Merrick. You look lovely this evening. Recovered from that unfortunate incident during your come-out?”

The reminder stung, but Juliana remained calm. Let him think her obtuse.

Both Drake and Victor took a step closer, almost flanking her on either side. Victor glared at Lord Felix. “Bad form to mention that, Davies.”

Although she expected Drake to rush to her defense, elation tingled through her at Victor’s response.

Bea squinted through her spectacles. “I don’t recall inviting you, Lord Felix.”

Juliana suppressed a smile behind her lemonade. If Bea hadn’t already won Juliana over with her kindness, her blunt response to Lord Felix’s rude remark certainly did.

Lord Felix threw a hand over his heart as if the barb physically wounded him. “Middlebury warned me of your sharp tongue, Lady Montgomery. Luckily, I have thick skin.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Miss Whyte invited me to join her and her family to hear her perform.”

Victor gave a soft snort. “And yet, you’re here at the refreshment table instead of in your seat, enraptured by her melodic rendition of...” Victor put a hand to his ear, his brow furrowing. “Whatever that is.”

Honoria shifted by Drake’s side, clearly uncomfortable witnessing the confrontation. She hated when people argued.

Juliana took her sister-in-law’s arm. “Do you need to sit, Honoria?”

Drake snapped to attention, his gaze darting from Lord Felix and Victor to Honoria. “Excuse us, Lady Montgomery.”

Victor removed Juliana’s empty lemonade glass from her grasp, placed it on the refreshment table, then motioned for them all to precede him back to their seats.

Lord Felix called from behind. “Off so soon? Before I asked His Grace if I may call upon you, Miss Merrick?”

“Over my dead body,” Drake muttered.

It would appear that Juliana’s desire to enjoy an uneventful night out in society was failing miserably.

Discussion of the orphan children had once again sent Victor’s thoughts reeling back to Adalyn. She and—grr—Nash had taken Fingers—Miss Mena—under their wing and to America.

And what was Davies doing escorting Lydia?

Victor swallowed a hard lump forming in his throat.

Victor wasn’t jealous, but Lydia had all but made it clear she’d set her cap for him .

Or had she? Lydia’s association with Davies made Victor question his ability to decipher a woman’s interest even more.

Of course, he hadn’t been a very attentive suitor, their mothers deciding the match had promise and pushing the two together more than from a mutual agreement of the couple themselves—at least on Victor’s part.

But Victor’s half-hearted courting kept his mother at bay and left him to wallow in his maudlin thoughts about Adalyn.