Page 33 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

“This one!” She pointed to the sketch with the horse. “The other doesn’t even look like me.” Her gaze jerked toward Victor, hoping she hadn’t offended him. “I mean, it does. You’re an exemplary artist, but?—”

He laughed. The rich, warm sound soothed her nerves. “I understand what you meant.”

Mother continued to stare at the sketch. “It’s as if you captured her spirit on paper, Mr. Pratt.”

“A high compliment, Mrs. Merrick. I also asked for His Grace’s opinion.”

The idea of Victor courting her—real or not—had overshadowed the fact that he was also there to perform a task. “Drake mentioned he had a preference, but he didn’t tell me which.”

“I’m pleased to report his preference aligns with yours, Miss Merrick.” Her stomach flipped at the genuine smile Victor gaveher. “And mine. I’d hoped you would both choose something a little more avant-garde. However, I did wish to give you the option of choosing something?—”

“Boring?” The word popped out. Heat rising to her cheeks, Juliana held a hand over her mouth.

Victor’s soft chuckle brushed like a caress against her skin. He had the most sensual voice. “I was going to say classic, but I think your description is much more apt.” He placed the sketches down. “However, if we are to include your horse in the portrait, I doubt the drawing room will be the best place for us to begin. I know a spot not far from here, quieter and less crowded than Hyde or St. James Park. My equipment is easy enough to transport on horseback. We could ride there together.”

Juliana shot a concerned look toward her mother. “Is the location easily traversed by carriage? Mama doesn’t enjoy riding.”

Victor’s head swiveled toward her mother. “Of course, as your chaperone. Forgive me. I shouldn’t have presumed you rode, Mrs. Merrick.”

“An honest assumption, sir. Juliana’s father taught my son to ride, and Drake took to it as if he’d been born on horseback.”

“As has Juliana.” The admiration shining in Victor’s eyes when he turned toward her warmed Juliana’s heart.

A knowing smile graced her mother’s lips. “My son informed me, Mr. Pratt, that you have requested to court Juliana. From what I witnessed when I entered, she has agreed. If you can promise to maintain proper decorum, perhaps a footman might suffice as chaperone?”

“You have my word, madam, that nothing untoward will transpire between your daughter and me.”

Juliana had no doubt of the truth of Victor’s promise. After all, he had no true romantic feelings for her. She recalled his words.I like you very much. At best, they were merely friends.

Her mother gave a firm nod. “Good. I’ll have Cook pack a light refreshment as well. Juliana, why don’t you change into your riding habit while Mr. Pratt packs his equipment? Did you ride here, sir?”

Slight color rose to Victor’s face, and Juliana found it quite attractive. “I confess I did. I’d hoped Miss Merrick would choose the more informal pose. So...”

Mother wagged a finger at Victor. “Ah. Perhaps I shouldn’t allow you two to be unaccompanied except for a footman. You seem prepared to take advantage when the opportunity arises.”

Juliana’s face heated, no doubt becoming pinker than Victor’s. “Mother. He meant coming on horseback.”

“Hmm,” Mama murmured. “Nevertheless, I shall instruct the groom to saddle your horse and secure a footman to accompany you. Juliana, run along and change. I want a brief word with Mr. Pratt.”

Under other circumstances, Juliana would have vibrated with excitement at the prospect of being alone with Victor. Drake’s servants exemplified discretion. Simon had vetted them all personally, checking every reference down to the last detail.

SoifVictor desired to steal a kiss, she could convince a footman to turn a blind eye. Anything more than a kiss would be reported to Drake or Mother, but a kiss—that would remain between her and Victor.

Alas, Victor would not attempt such advances, and any sign of affection would be for the benefit of an audience, not a genuine expression between them as a couple.

Instead of excitement, a niggle of worry crept into her mind as she returned to her room to change into her riding habit. What did her mother wish to speak to Victor about? Had she detected any falsehood in his intentions? Had Drake expressed his concerns? Victor said Drake might suspect something.

Pushing it from her mind, she changed into her riding habit and returned downstairs. Victor waited for her in the entry. He’d already fastened his easel to the side of his saddle and had his satchel with his canvas and supplies draped across his body. The footman her mother had requisitioned as chaperone had a basket with the refreshments attached to his mount.

“It’s not far,” Victor said, riding next to her and leading them through the busy London streets toward the outskirts of the city. His gaze traveled over her. “Blue is a most becoming color on you. Another advantage of choosing the informal pose. That particular hue of your riding habit brings out the touch of violet in your eyes. If you had chosen the more traditional pose, I would have asked if you had a formal gown in that shade.”

Juliana felt her own blue eyes paled in comparison with Victor’s, whose sparkled like sunlight on a pool of clear water, with a hint of turquoise whereas hers seemed dulled as if darkened by clouds. “What made you want to become an artist?”

She asked not only to learn about Victor but thought it an easy question to initiate conversation between them.

Yet Victor stared ahead, his expression serious, and she shifted uncomfortably in her saddle.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

---