Page 10 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

She shook her head, one golden strand of hair coming loose and draping down her neck. “I tried, but my attempts were worse than those at the piano. I fear the music teacher is reaching his wits’ end. Do you play an instrument, Mr. Pratt?”

“Cello and piano. But only passably well. My mother complained of headaches.” He gave her a sheepish grin.

Light and natural, Miss Merrick’s laugh lifted Victor’s spirits. He smiled at Cilla when she returned to her seat. He would thank her later for insisting he attend the event.

A hush descended on the crowd when Dr. Somersby and his wife ascended the dais next to the piano. Although Victor had yet to hear the doctor play, Timothy insisted the man coaxed his very soul from the violin. And Camilla Somersby’s voice was legendary. Had she not been the daughter of a baron, she could have performed on the best operatic stages of Europe.

But as Victor was well aware, people born of the aristocracy didnotpursue occupations in the arts, especially men in line to inherit. His own aspirations as a painter had not been met with approval or encouragement from his parents.

Victor inclined his head toward the dais. “I understand we are in for a treat, Miss Merrick.”

Victor found Dr. Somersby to be an unassuming man, later learning of his Romani heritage. He seemed uneasy at first in front of the crowd but soon became absorbed in his music. And although the accompaniment to his wife’s singing was lovely, he allowed her to be the center of attention. When theyfinished, Camilla encouraged the crowd to demand more from her husband.

The Duke and Duchess of Ashton joined in Camilla’s entreaty, the duchess saying, “Play the song you wrote for Camilla!”

A slight flush covered Oliver’s swarthy complexion, but he nodded.

And from the first stroke of his bow on the strings, the audience was enthralled.

Victor had never heard anything like it in his life. Gooseflesh rose on his arms and neck. Beautiful and bittersweet, the music held a touch of hope, countering the minor key in the perfect combination.

When the last note faded, hanging in the air like a lover’s kiss, no one moved, no one spoke. All eyes were glued to the man with the violin in rapt appreciation. A soft sniffle sounded to Victor’s left, and he turned toward Miss Merrick, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Through those tears, she smiled at him, and to his surprise, she reached up and brushed his own tears away.

CHAPTER 4

Had 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.”

---