Page 51 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

Victor smiled. “Quite. And I assure you, Miss Merrick’s happiness is also foremost in my mind.”

She waved him off. “But you are not here to get my blessing or permission, I’d wager. Drake would have seen to that, and if he has agreed, then he must set great store by you, Mr. Pratt. Tell me more about this false report. I’m sure my great nephew was less than pleased. How did you explain it to him?”

Victor recounted most of what he knew, explaining he had hopes of uncovering who was behind the presumption that his sketches were of Juliana.

The old woman’s eyebrow cocked. “I see. So you have sketches of another lady. Perhaps you are not as honorable as I believed.”

Juliana rushed to his defense. “Oh, he is, Aunt Kitty. Victor told me all about the sketches.”

Not quite.

“They’re not as scandalous asThe Muckrakermakes them out to be,” Juliana continued.

Grateful for Juliana’s trust in him even though she hadn’t seen the sketches, Victor sent her a smile, hoping to convey his appreciation.

The countess gave anotherharrumph. “Well, that much doesn’t surprise me. Whoever is responsible for that gossip rag should be drawn and quartered. Has the League made any progress identifying the culprit?”

Victor blinked. “You’re aware of the League?” How many women were involved in the enterprise?

The countess glowered at him as if he were a dolt. “Of course.”

“Lady Montgomery has recently joined The League, Aunt. She is performing an analysis for us now to identify common threads.”

“Odd woman, but brilliant. However, back to my question. Why are you both here?”

Sincere curiosity colored the countess’s question, relieving Victor’s feelings of inadequacy over his intelligence. “We—that is, Miss Merrick and I—believe making an appearance in public would help counteract the claims. Having a powerful ally at our sides, one who could silence any further gossip, would be advantageous. Miss Merrick thought of you.”

Blue eyes twinkling, the countess grinned. “Wise girl. And where do you propose we make this appearance, Mr. Pratt?”

“How does Gunter’s sound, my lady?”

The countess threw back her head and laughed. “Ices to freeze those wagging tongues. Clever, Mr. Pratt. I knew I liked you. I’ll call for my carriage.”

Victor lifted a hand to halt her as she began to rise. “If you don’t mind. I have my father’s phaeton that seats three.”

Mischief sparked in her eyes, and she appeared years younger. “I haven’t ridden in a phaeton in ages.” Gnarled hand grasping her cane, she leaned forward. “Do you drive fast?”

“As fast as you wish.” Victor grinned at the old woman, catching the tilt of Juliana’s lips as well, and an urge to kiss his betrothed floated over him. Perhaps later on their drive back to Pendrake Manor?

Several minutes later, seated on the gig’s tall bench, Victor snapped the ribbons guiding the two matched greys down the street toward Berkley Square. When the countess declared she needed space around her because of her rheumatism, Juliana—wedged between the countess and Victor—scooted closer to Victor. Her thigh pressed against his.

Each time the gig hit a bump, and she brushed against him more fully, Juliana’s cheeks colored as she muttered apologies.

Victor admitted the sensation was more than pleasant and suppressed a chuckle at Lady Gryffin’s devious expression.

Once they arrived at Gunter’s, Victor wasn’t certain if he was relieved or sorry. At least they would have the return journey to enjoy the closeness again.

Gunter’s was busy on the late afternoon day, and people’s curious gazes lifted from their treats as the trio entered the shop. Heads of the patrons bent together as if plotting a conspiracy, their eyes never quite leaving Victor and Juliana.

One glacial stare from Lady Gryffin and they returned to enjoying their ices as if nothing of interest had diverted their attention.

After placing their orders, Victor tipped his head to a table in the corner.

“No, no, dear boy,” the countess whispered. “Don’t hide. It will only give credence to the lies and the vultures more ammunition.” Instead, she moved toward a vacant table in the middle of the room. “This shall serve nicely,” she said, loud enough for most of the crowd to hear.

Victor did his best to concentrate on Juliana and Lady Gryffin as they savored their flavored ice, but the spoonful of elderflower ice that had begun to melt in his mouth seemed to become solid, almost choking him when Lydia Whyte entered the shop, accompanied by—of all people—his mother.

“This lavender is quite lovely. I think . . .” The countess’s words halted as she gazed up and caught who had snagged Victor’s attention.

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