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Victor laughed. “I suspect you will feel the same when you have your own children someday, Miss Merrick.” He waved a hand at her riding habit. “So this is the famous garment that allows you to ride astride.”

“It is.” She grasped the outer edges of the skirt and pulled, exposing the split Victor had glimpsed as she descended the staircase.

“Very innovative. And I like your hair fashioned that way.”

Pink colored her cheeks, giving her a natural, healthy glow. “You inspired me.”

Voices drew their attention back to the staircase as Burwood and the duchess approached.

“I’m so glad you were able to join us, Mr. Pratt. Even numbers make for the best rides,” the duchess said.

Although Victor would not deign to argue with a duchess, he doubted the number of riders determined the quality of the ride.

Exiting, they mounted their horses and trotted to the park. Burwood and the duchess led the way, with Victor riding next to Miss Merrick. He slid a glance over to her, admiring the expert way she held the reins and controlled the horse. “Your brother was right.”

Burwood chuckled. “I’m always right. The question is, about what this time?”

“Miss Merrick has an excellent seat.”

Color darkened her cheeks again, and her gaze dipped to her hands loosely holding the reins. “Thank you, Mr. Pratt.”

“Would it be presumptuous to have you call me Victor? When we’re not in a crowd of people, that is. Mr. Pratt sounds so very stuffy.”

Her face brightened. “If you will call me Juliana.”

Juliana. It had a musical ring to it that Victor loved.

Inside the park, equipages of various types rolled up and down Rotten Row along with riders on horseback. Luckily, the semi-clouded sky had kept the crowd to a manageable size. Victor tipped his hat, bidding a good afternoon to those he knew.

An enormous barouche carrying the Marquess of Edgerton, his wife, and two sons slowed as they approached. The odious Lord Middlebury lounged next to the boys in the rear-facing seat across from the marquess.

“The poor lads,” Victor muttered. The boys not only endured a disagreeable parent, but Timothy had gone on ad nauseam about how obsequious Lord Middlebury was.

Apparently, his sister, Lady Montgomery, had narrowly escaped being married to the man.

As they grew closer, the boys’ sour faces confirmed their displeasure.

Edgerton’s gaze snagged on Juliana as they rode past on Edgerton’s right.

Minding his manners, Victor tipped his hat, but Edgerton turned away with studied precision, facing forward and effectively giving them the cut direct.

He must have said something to Middlebury, because the man turned and gaped at them.

Damn . They must have noticed Juliana’s unorthodox riding habit.

Fortunately, Juliana must not have noticed their rudeness, or if she did, perhaps she didn’t understand the cut, still being unversed in the ton’s ridiculous insults.

“Who were those people with Lord Middlebury, Victor?” Juliana asked.

Ah. Perhaps he’d been a little too quick with his assumptions. “Lord and Lady Edgerton, and their sons.”

Her eyes widened. “ That was Lady Charlotte’s brother?” She shook her head. “That explains a great deal.”

“So, you know Middlebury?”

Her button nose scrunched up as if they had passed a pile of horse droppings. Yet the pathway around them was mercifully clear. “From Drake’s house party. He cornered me in the hallway and tried to pinch me.” Her face reddened.

Leather bit into his gloves as Victor’s grip tightened on the reins, and he twisted in his saddle, turning his entire torso toward her. “Did you tell your brother?” he asked, each word clipped and careful, the rage simmering just beneath the surface.

Her blond hair brushed the back of her jacket as she shook her head. “It was the day the truth came out about Drake. Honoria stormed out of the house, and Drake raced after her. I didn’t want to add to his burden.”

Although Victor admired Juliana’s kind heart and concern for others, she needed to be protected from vultures like Middlebury. Courting her might serve that purpose as well.

As other people passed, they received a mixture of cordial greetings, shocked stares, and occasional snickers.

The scoundrel, Felix Davies, trotted his horse next to a carriage where Lydia Whyte sat with her parents, her damnable fan fluttering furiously as she apparently carried on a conversation with Davies.

Both turned their gazes toward Victor and his friends. Davies leaned in toward Lydia.

As Victor recalled the accusations Davies had leveled at him at the musicale, Lydia held the fan up to her face, no doubt hiding her smirk.

Victor tipped his hat, vowing to be the bigger man. “Miss Whyte, Lord and Lady Whyte. Davies.”

Davies shot a glance toward Burwood, whose attention was completely on his wife.

Lucky man .

Realizing the duke was preoccupied, Davies trotted his horse over. “Miss Merrick. Pratt. Out for a family excursion?” He smirked at Victor, his eyes accusing and condemning.

“I could say the same for you, Davies.” Victor nodded toward Lydia’s carriage. “You’re becoming a regular fixture with the Whytes.”

Davies waved it off. “Not at all. I’m simply out for a pleasant ride and happened upon them, just as I have you two.”

Victor didn’t appreciate the lascivious way Davies raked his gaze up and down Juliana.

“Interesting riding habit, Miss Merrick. Quite daring to be riding astride among good society.”

“Are you now the judge of what is appropriate for good society, Davies?” Victor asked, the words delivered with more snap than he originally intended.

“Gentlemen, please.” Juliana’s calm voice cut through Victor’s growing irritation with Davies. “Lord Felix, although my method of riding may be unusual here among London’s ton, where I’m from it is considered sensible.”

“Of course,” Davies said, his tone countering his agreement.

“Now, if you will excuse us, my brother— the duke —will be wondering what’s kept us.”

Victor almost cheered at the shocked expression on Davies’s face at Juliana’s couched reminder of whom Davies was insulting. With a jerk of her chin and the jaunty blue bonnet perched on the head she held high, Juliana nudged her horse forward without so much as a by-your-leave.

A grin tugged at Victor’s lips. Davies could have Lydia. Juliana exhibited the courage of grace wrapped in steel.