Page 14 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

Cilla elbowed her husband in the ribs. “You’re supposed to side with me.”

When Timothy didn’t respond, Cilla sank down in her seat and pouted.

Even though the three of them were alone in the carriage, Victor lowered his voice and leaned toward Timothy. “Is herconditionmaking her moody?”

“I am not moody,” Cilla grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You are perfect, my dear,” Timothy said. When Cilla nodded and turned toward the window, Timothy mouthed,“Yes.”

Thank goodness another level-headed man was in the carriage.

“Is there a basis for Davies’s accusation? Your father’s estate isn’t in trouble, is it?”

Victor wasn’t affronted by Timothy’s question, it came from Timothy’s own experience. According to Cilla, Timothy began courting Honoria because of his family’s financial troubles and Honoria’s large dowry.

“No.” Victor’s one word response satisfied Timothy.

Timothy’s brow furrowed. “But you have been escorting Miss Whyte about town, and I presumed you had an attachment. Are you now pursuing Miss Merrick?”

“Lydia is a troublemaking gossip,” Cilla muttered, still gazing out the carriage window.

Although Victor had some doubts about the young doctor when he’d married Cilla, Victor had to admit Timothy was an intelligent man. He grasped Cilla’s arm and gently turned her toward him. “Priscilla, love. Is that why you insisted on the seating arrangements for the musicale? Are you matchmaking?”

“I like Miss Merrick. She has more sense than that ninnyhammer Lydia. And she doesn’t deserve the horrible thingsThe Muckrakeris saying about her. Victor is respectable and passably handsome. So I thought . . .”

Cilla’s assertion only confirmed what Victor already suspected.

“Have you learned nothing from your machinations, Priscilla?” Timothy asked, his face clouding with disappointment. “Harry has only recently put that horrible incident with you behind him. You can’t play games with people’s lives.”

“It worked with Nash and Adalyn.”

Damn. Why did she have to bring them up again?

“I’m sorry, Victor,” Cilla said. “But you and Adalyn weren’t right for each other.”

“In your opinion.” Yet, could Cilla be right? Part of him wondered if he hadn’t romanticized his memory of Adalyn. Perhaps he needed to accept what never could be and move on with his life. Regardless, he needed to end the conversation. “I like Miss Merrick, and Felix Davies can have Lydia. They deserve each other. But it’s my life, Cilla, so stay out of it.”

Victor turned toward the window, further demonstrating he was finished listening to her arguments.

But if Adalyn hadn’t been right for him, what woman was?

CHAPTER 5

Juliana had hardly slept a wink after the musicale. Each time she closed her eyes, Victor’s voice echoed in her mind—warm, amused, and maddeningly polite. The attention he’d paid her occupied her thoughts as she turned over each and every possibility as to the reason.

Was his civility because he was forced to sit next to her during the performances? Juliana didn’t delude herself, and she had come to know Priscilla Marbry well enough to recognize her intentions.

And yet, Victor had been so kind and attentive at the refreshment table. She countered that with the fact that he had been raised as a gentleman and would do nothing less. But so had Lord Felix Davies, who had been nothing short of rude.

In a moment of weakness, a hopeful thought crept in. Perhaps he’d been genuinely interested. She brushed it off, muttering to herself, “Don’t be a cotton-headed ninnyhammer.”

A man as wonderful as Victor Pratt would not seriously consider a common-born girl like Juliana Merrick, even if she was half-sister to a duke. People in the aristocracy had standards. Drake and Honoria were testament to that—at least until Drake’s true heritage had become known.

Things were so complicated among society.

In the countryside of Somerset where Juliana had grown up, life—courtship—was so much simpler. If a young man fancied a young woman, he simply brought her flowers and took her out walking for several Sundays to determine if they would suit. And if a woman indicated her interest, but the man did not return it, he would tell her in no uncertain terms he considered her only a friend.

Of course, there were exceptions. Juliana’s friend Maisie hadn’t waited when she’d set her cap for a boy named Jonas. She’d marched up to Jonas as he worked in the field and informed him they were getting married. Four weeks later, when Juliana and her parents attended the ceremony, Jonas stood at the altar, his eyes as wide as a frightened horse as he repeated his vows. Three years later, when Drake had returned to England and Juliana said her goodbyes to her friend to move to Dorset, Maisie had been swollen with her second child.

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