Page 56 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

Juliana’s lips tipped up slightly, not enough for a full smile, but as if she held a little secret.

“Bella! Don’t move. Hold that smile, just like that if you can.” Victor worked quickly, capturing Juliana’s enigmatic expression. Finished, he stepped back, his hands on his hips, and assessed the result. Warm satisfaction flooded his chest. It was good. Really good, if he did say so himself. That je ne sais quoi he had spoken about to the duke stared back at him, alive on canvas.

“Well? May I see?” Juliana’s voice brought him back.

Victor held out his hand, and when she approached, he threaded his fingers with hers. “It’s still not finished.”

Her intake of breath told him she was pleased. “Oh, Victor. Is that really how you see me?”

How could she not know? “It’s how you appear when you aren’t worrying about what people think, or when you’re trying to fit in. When you’re simply...you. Unguarded and real.”

“How...how do you know?” Intensity shimmered in Juliana’s eyes, the connection between them unnerving. He suddenly felt unsteady on his feet.

Victor released her hand and began cleaning his brushes. “I studied you.” He smiled to himself, then slid a glance back to her. “It’s not as nefarious as it sounds. My painting master in Florence told us in order to accurately paint a subject, you must first know them.” Victor kept it to himself that Master Giovanni used the wordintimatelylest Juliana misunderstand.

Brushes cleaned, Victor took her hand, and they sat together on a small bench among the lush foliage. “When you’re with your family, your face is relaxed, especially here.” He traced a finger over her brow between her eyes. “Your smile is carefree and even a little mischievous. Your lips tilt slightly, here.” He placed a finger on the corner of her mouth, and an overpowering urge to kiss her followed.

His gaze flicked up to hers, his question asked, and her answer waited. Sliding his hand to cradle her head, he lowered his mouth to hers. Similar to the day before, the same unexpected surge of energy rushed through him. He teased, savored, lost himself in the kiss. Like a breath held too long, he released the name burning in his mind. “Adalyn.”

She pulled back, the look of horror on her face hitting him square in the chest.

Juliana. Not Adalyn.

Oh, God, what had he done?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” But the damage was done.

The pain in Juliana’s eyes accused and convicted him. Her body stiffened, and her expression grew guarded. Gone was the true Juliana, and in her place was a woman protecting herself.

Thank goodness she didn’t cry. He couldn’t handle her tears. Instead, she became pensive, staring down at her hands clasped before her. “You loved her. Adalyn. Stilllove her.”

Not a question, but he answered anyway. She deserved the truth. “Yes.” Averting his gaze, he swallowed and scrambled for a way to salvage his egregious misstep. “But she is far away. Married to another.” A scoundrel of a man, Victor added silently. He would never understand why a woman would choose a blackguard over a man who would cherish her.

“It is a difficult thing to love someone who doesn’t return that love.”

He wanted to thank her for her understanding, but when he turned toward her, her eyes appeared unfocused, distant, as if she wasn’t speaking to him, but stating a fact she herself was well-acquainted with.

His mind stuttered on the realization.

Who had broken Juliana’s heart? Whoever the blackguard was, Victor wanted to beat him to a pulp for toying with the feelings of such a lovely young woman. And Victor wasn’t a violent man.

Her eyes cleared, and she turned toward him. “Forgive me. I feel another headache developing.”

He almost shot from his seat. “Of course. I shall call again tomorrow. Weather and your head permitting, we could go riding to our spot, allowing me to work some more on Sunshine.”

Waiting silently while he gathered his paints, brushes, and the canvas, Juliana wore a tremulous smile like a coat of armor, the sparkle that so typically lit her eyes absent.

Victor mumbled an awkward, “Goodbye,” then stole from the house like a thief.

CHAPTER 17

For a week and a half, Juliana vacillated between calling off her engagement to Victor and hoping against hope his affection for her would grow. Releasing him was the right thing to do, no matter how much her heart argued against it. But each time she summoned the courage to broach the subject, Victor quickly provided a counterargument.

Three days before the ball, as they strolled through St. James Park, their conversation was no different.

“Victor, our time is running out?—”

“We should wait. Lady Miranda is investigating the connection Lady Montgomery found to Lord Middlebury. If we can unmask the perpetrator, we have an excellent chance of restoring your reputation.”

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