Page 81 of A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Heirs

“Mrs. Talbot and Mr. Pratt are friends, nothing more.”

He tsked, shaking his head as if she were a simpleton. “Then why not have their conversation in the ballroom? Why meet in secret?”

A knot formed in her stomach, tight and painful. But why would Victor ask her to meet him in the orangery if he had planned a tryst with Adalyn? She would catch Lord Felix in his lie. “And where, pray tell, sir, did you witness this alleged tryst?”

“In the orangery, which I must admit was brilliant on Pratt’s part. Being able to hide amid all that greenery. A stroke of genius.”

The knot twisted. But Lord Felix’s accusation still didn’t make sense.

As if she were a child who had just discovered there was no Father Christmas, the pity, cold and harsh on his face, made her want to retch.

“Oh, my dear girl. You’re wondering why. Permit me to explain. Many a man has evaded the parson’s mousetrap by allowing his intended to witness an indiscretion before their marriage.” He shrugged as if it were a trifle. “And if the woman chooses to look the other way, so much the better for the man to continue with his mistress after the wedding.”

“Victor isn’t like that.” She spat the words at him, wanting to believe them. Needing to believe them.

He shrugged again. “Suit yourself. I merely wished to save you the pain of witnessing it first-hand. Now you can cry off and maintain your dignity. Or...” He turned to peer into the empty parlor on their right. “You can get even. With me. How convenient there is a vacant room just waiting for us.”

“You’re a madman, and I’m done listening to you.” With all her strength, she pushed against him hard enough to throw him off balance. She spun around, ready to escape, but he recovered quickly and grabbed her by the arms again.

His leer made her skin crawl even as his fingers pinched her upper arms tighter. Her stomach roiled. She may have been an innocent, but she was reared on a grand estate and watched her brother tend to horses. Wild and dangerous, Lord Felix’s eyes reminded her of a stallion’s brought to mount a fecund mare.

She gritted her teeth. “Take. Your. Hands. Off. Me. This. Instant.”

He pursed his lips, as if considering her demand. “I think...not.” Releasing his grip on one arm, he trailed the fingers of his free hand down her cheek. “The country girl posing as an aristocrat. Tell me, how many men have you taken to yourbed, sweet? Hmm? Some bumbling country oafs, no doubt. How would you like a man experienced with women?”

The gall!

“Miss Merrick, is this man bothering you?” The question was like an angel song from heaven, only spoken in a deep male voice.

Lord Felix turned and, upon seeing Miles Grey approaching, dropped his hands from Juliana’s arms.

Wasting no time, Juliana called over her shoulder as she raced away toward the orangery. “Thank you, Mr. Grey.”

CHAPTER 23

Victor jerk backed, heart pounding like a runaway horse’s hooves on cobbles. His face heated, but it was Lydia's wide eyes that burned through him.

“This isn’t what it appears to be.” As soon as the words had flown from his mouth, Victor understood the absurdity of them. Whenever someone insisted something wasn’t what it appeared, it meant it wasexactlyas it appeared.

Adalyn took a step toward Lydia. “Allow me to explain.”

Lydia straightened her shoulders as if she hadn’t been the one eavesdropping. “And why should I believe you?! You who came between Lord Nash and Lady Honoria—I mean Her Grace. Although goodness knows what she saw in him. Good riddance is what I say. And does your husband know you are cavorting with the soon-to-be-bridegroom?”

“We are not cavorting!” Victor’s hands clenched at his sides. Of all people, it would have to be Lydia.

Lydia’s gaze darted between Adalyn and him, a sudden understanding crossing her typically clueless countenance. She raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh! It was her! Not Miss Merrick, wasn’t it? Those sketches. And to think I had pinned my hopes on you at one time, Mr. Pratt.”

Words scrambled in his mind. What could he say? How could he defend himself?

His only hope to explain that Adalyn’s kiss was an innocent exchange between friends before Lydia ran off and conveyed the news to all who would listen slipped from his fingers. Adalyn brought him to his senses.

Her lovely brow creased. “What sketches, Victor?”

“Scandalous sketches of a woman with too much décolletage exposed. A woman who looks suspiciously like Miss Merrick—or you.” Lydia appeared proud to relay that bit of information and cause more damage.

Victor tried his best to ignore Adalyn’s horrified expression. “And just how would you know who the woman looked like and how she was dressed, Lydia? Unless, of course, you had seen the drawings yourself.”

Lydia’s mouth moved soundlessly, finally managing a few stumbled words. “Well . . . I . . . that is . . . it’s whatThe Muckrakerreported.”

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