Page 73 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

Was he destined to lose women to rogues?

Jealousy had coiled like a serpent in his chest, ready to strike when Davies ogled Juliana’s enticing bosom. Middlebury had also directed his attention to Juliana’s low-cut gown, and Victor had the urge to plant both men a facer. If only the duke hadn’t felt it necessary to invite the two odious men.

Victor promised himself neither would manage a dance with his betrothed. In fact, if it had been permitted, he would have monopolized Juliana’s dance card. As they entered the ballroom, he consoled himself that he would make sure to claim one of the waltzes.

Curious onlookers gathered around the covered portrait while a footman stood like a sentinel before it.

“Your brother plans to unveil the portrait to commence the ball.”

Juliana beamed up at him, and his heart swelled. “I can’t wait to see it now that you’ve finished. Tierney said you were working on it until early this morning.”

He gave her hand another squeeze and pulled her closer to witness the unveiling. “I hope you like it.” He would make things right with her, confess his growing feelings to her that very evening. If only he could get her alone for a few minutes.

Drake strode toward the portrait and raised his hands to quiet the crowd. The music ceased, and a hushed silence filled the room. “Lords and ladies, honored guests. Thank you for joining us as we have much to celebrate this evening.” Drake stretched out his hand to Honoria, who beamed and threaded her fingers in her husband’s. “My duchess and I have not only been blessed with our beautiful daughter, Lady Katherine Abigail Constance Pendrake, but we will also be welcoming another family member with the upcoming wedding of my dear sister, Juliana Merrick, to Mr. Victor Pratt.”

Polite applause rose, but not from all. Davies’s hands curled by his side. Other less congenial faces joined in Davies’sdisapproval. Next to her parents, Lydia pouted, waving her fan before her like a weapon. His own mother stood unmoving until his father leaned down and whispered something in her ear, causing her to join in with the others in congratulations.

“In addition to Mr. Pratt joining our family, he has painted Juliana’s portrait. A subject which has caused some speculation.” Drake’s tone grew serious. “False, I might add, as you will now see for yourselves.”

Victor steeled himself as Drake pulled aside the velvet cloth, removed the protective cover, and revealed the portrait.

Gasps sounded around the room. Bodies of those closest to the portrait collectively leaned forward as if pulled by a magnetic force. Juliana’s hand lifted to her mouth.

“Oh, Victor.” Juliana’s voice was like a soft caress.

“You like it?”

Her golden hair swished against her shoulders as she shook her head, and a leaden weight dropped in the pit of his stomach.

But when she turned, her eyes glistened. “I love it.” She laughed, a lovely melodic sound that sent effervescent bubbles racing through his veins. “I’m so glad I wore my hair down this evening. And here I was complaining because it took Miss Price so long to fix it.”

Drake stepped back, assessing the portrait. It was one thing to please Juliana—and admittedly, pleasing her had become a priority—but Victor also longed to impress the duke and win the commission to paint the rest of the family.

He held his breath as Drake spoke. “As you can all see, the only thing about this portrait one might consider scandalous is my sister’s beautiful hair lying loose about her shoulders.” He chuckled. “Scandalous indeed, but—speaking as her brother, and all of you can agree this evening—so very Juliana. This portrait will be the first of many painted by my soon-to-be brother-in-law. If he is willing to take the commission to paintmy mother, wife, daughter, and myself. What say you, Mr. Pratt? Care to take on the rest of the Merrick-Pendrake clan?”

All eyes turned toward Victor. Doubt and even derision reflected in those of people like Davies and Middlebury, but admiration in others’, perhaps even a little envy in a few of his friends who’d expressed a desire for an occupation while at Oxford, but who had settled for the idle life of an aristocrat.

“I would be honored, Your Grace. And since we will be family, there will be no payment required.”

Muffled laughter floated through the room.

“Now, if Mr. Pratt will escort my sister to the dance floor for the first set, let the ball commence.” Drake raised his hand and signaled to the orchestra to begin.

As Victor led her to the dance floor, Juliana gave him a shy smile. He wished the first dance was a waltz, but it was a quadrille. At least he would get to hold her hands and be near her. Completing their square, Drake and Honoria faced them with Simon and Charlotte to their left and the Duke and Duchess of Ashton on their right. Favorable company indeed.

“Remarkable work on Miss Merrick’s portrait, Pratt,” Ashton said. “Adalyn mentioned what an accomplished artist you were, but I had no idea. We’re thinking of having new portraits painted of the boys with their new baby sister if you’re interested. It seems we blink, and Edmund and Charles have grown several inches. When you’re back from your wedding trip, of course.”

“In demand by not one, but two dukes, Pratt. Maybe they’ll duke it out.” Simon laughed at his own joke.

“See what I must put up with? I deserve a medal.” Charlotte gave an exaggerated sigh, but the smile in her voice gave her away.

Other couples gathered as the opening strands of the quadrille rang out. Next to him, Juliana moved through the steps as gracefully as any high-born lady.

Victor wanted to whisk her away somewhere private and confess his feelings, but the moment the dance ended, another gentleman claimed the next set with her.

Stationed by the refreshment table, he watched the man flirt with her, and it took every ounce of his strength not to stride across the room and push the man aside. What was wrong with him? Juliana wasn’t some possession to be stolen from under his nose. Yet it galled to see her turn a bright smile toward someone other than him.

“Pratt.”

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