Page 6 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

Reclinedon the sofa in his father’s drawing room, Victor propped himself up on one arm and glared at his sister. “I amnotsulking. And don’t you have a husband to annoy? It’s bad enough with Mother back in London. I don’t need you to badger me as well.”

“Did I hear someone mention me?” His mother swooped into the room, further darkening his already dreary day.

Priscilla stifled a giggle behind her hand.

Ha!She laughs now. How quickly Cilla had forgotten their mother’s machinations to secure a duke as a husband for Cilla. Or perhaps not. Victor’s mood was too bleak to parse it out.

Pinched between her thumb and forefinger, the piece of paper his mother waved in the air caused his stomach to tumble.Another invitation.Victor plopped back against the sofa with an audible, “Ough.”

His mother narrowed her eyes, and his stomach tightened further.

Pushing Victor’s legs off the sofa, his mother sat in the vacated spot. “This arrived moments ago. The Saxtons are turning over the reins for their annual musicale to Lord and Lady Montgomery. I suppose it’s because of that expensive piano Lord Montgomery purchased from Lord Nash.”

Victor reluctantly straightened, ignoring the irritation bubbling in his veins over that rake Nash’s name. “And they’re invitingyou?” Victor should have been ashamed at the condescending tone of his voice, especially when his mother flinched. However, he was too absorbed in his own problems to worry about hurting his mother’s feelings. And mentioning the blackguard who had stolen the woman Victor loved right from under his nose didn’t help. He snatched the invitation from her fingers and turned the parchment over, noting his father’s name on the address. “You’re opening Father’s correspondence now?”

“He was preoccupied with a letter from his estate manager in Lincolnshire. No doubt some crisis with the sheep.”

Cilla groaned, and it was Victor’s turn to stifle a chuckle. His sister had told him how she’d nearly gone mad exiled in the countryside as she was for several years after her disgrace with the Duke of Ashton.

His mother ignored her and continued to ramble on with her pitiful excuse for pilfering her husband’s mail. “...and I just happened to notice Lady Montgomery’s precise handwriting peeking out from beneath the pile of letters. She’s such a strange creature with all her talk of science; I didn’t want to bother your father with her nonsense.”

“Hmm,” Victor mumbled.

“Bea is not strange, Mama,” Cilla said. “She’s brilliant. And because she’s my husband’s sister, I expect you to speak of her more kindly.”

“Hear, hear,” Victor said, that time a bit more loudly.

His mother raised an eyebrow. “Such disrespect from my own children.”

Victor hoped the crisis in Lincolnshire would necessitate his mother’s return to the country. His father was much too busy arguing for reform in the House. “Respect must be earned, Mother.”

“Which I have by giving birth to you both. Twenty hours of labor for you, Victor, and eighteen for Priscilla.”

Cilla blanched, her eyes widening comically. Her hand drifted toward her abdomen.Was she...?

Victor shot a glance toward his mother, who remained oblivious to Cilla’s reaction, and instead snatched the invitation back from Victor’s grasp.

“They won’t turn me away if I’m with your father?—”

Cilla mumbled, “Bea might.”

“And of course, you must attend, Victor. You’ve been moping around here far too long. It’s time you settled down, chose a bride, and married. Your father won’t live forever.”

“Father is hale and hearty, Mother,” Victor argued, too reluctant to agree with what he knew in his heart to be right. He did have to marry—someday. As his father’s heir, it was Victor’sdutyto produce his own heir. And he would need a respectable bride for that.

“I understand Miss Whyte is still unattached,” his mother said. “Why have you stopped calling on her, Victor? She is equal in rank to us, and her mother told me her father has increased her dowry. Lord Whyte is most eager to have her married by Michaelmas.”

“It’s no wonder, Mother,” Victor said. “Lydia flirts with anything in trousers.”

Cilla nodded. “That’s true. I worried during the duke’s house party last summer that she would get her hooks into the duke.”

Victor shuddered at the thought of a match with Miss Whyte. She would probably beat her husband to death with her fan. “Which one? The real one pretending to be the man of business or the man of business pretending to be the duke?”

“Such a scandal,” his mother said.

Victor held his tongue, but the thought formed, nonetheless.You’re one to talk.

“The real one pretending to be the man of business. It didn’t take me long to see that Honoria had feelings for Burwood—Mr. Merrick”—Cilla waved a hand—“goodness, it’s still confusing. Her husband, the duke. The way Lydia threw herself at the poor man, it’s a wonder Honoria didn’t pull every blond hair out of Lydia’s head.”

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