Page 11 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

“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 triedto 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.”

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