"No," she said with another laugh, touching the gorgeous pendant where it was framed in her neckline. "I need to mingle with our guests."
With a finger on her chin, he lifted her face. She smelled soap and starch and James, and her heart squeezed in her chest. Suddenly, she felt breathless.
"I'll give you an hour," he warned softly against her lips. "But not a minute more." Then he quickly kissed her and sent her off.
* * *
Griffin scanned the great hall one final time, pleased with what he saw.
The chamber hadn't looked this good since the ball he'd thrown last year in hopes of finding Alexandra a husband. The enormous Gobelin tapestries on either end of the hall had been cleaned and rehung, their vibrant colors defying their age. Beneath the old hammerbeam roof, the ancient planked floor gleamed with polish. Servants were busy lighting the torches mounted between each of the arched stained-glass windows, and soon the huge chamber would be ablaze with light. Up in the minstrel's gallery, the musicians were tuning their instruments.
In a matter of minutes, the hall would be filled with music and dancing, laughter and glittering guests. He hoped it would be a night Juliana would remember forever. There was nothing he wanted more than to see his sisters happy.
Thank God he had only one more left to marry off.
"Griffin," he heard nearby. A low, sultry voice.
He turned to see its owner, finding her standing there in a red dress that clung to her seductive curves. Most of her hair was done up in a sophisticated style, leaving just a few loose chestnut tendrils to fall in soft waves around her face. A come-hither scent wafted from her skin, making him take an uneasy step back.
Since she'd dismissed his offer to help last month, he hadn't seen her. Juliana hadn't hostessed any more sewing parties, and he hadn't attended any more balls. He'd been wrapped up in the business of Parliament, followed by some mild problems here on the estate. All the damned responsibilities he'd found thrust on him along with the unwanted title had kept him too busy for any socializing.
Which had been fine by him. He hadn't clenched his teeth in five whole weeks.
"What do you want, Rachael?"
She blinked, no doubt taken aback by his unintended harshness. But she recovered her composure quickly. "If your offer is still open, then yes, I'd like your help going through my mother's things."
He smiled, his heart softening. "Before Christmas?"
She drew a deep breath and nodded. "How about next week?"
* * *
Five hours later, James found himself confronted by the most daunting column of buttons he'd ever seen.
During the last month—seemingly the longest month of his life—he'd imagined this night a hundred times, if not a thousand. And up until now, it had gone more or less as he'd planned.
He'd closed them both into this room—the Gold Chamber, Juliana had called it—and proceeded to kiss her senseless while faint snatches of romantic music drifted in from the great hall far down the corridor. Still kissing her as much as he could, he'd managed to rid himself of all his clothing save his trousers and his unbuttoned shirt. Still kissing her, he'd managed to remove some of her clothes, too—little essentials like her satin slippers and her stockings.
He'd been quite proud of himself, really, because he'd been determined to proceed slowly, because it was her first time, and if anyone deserved a first time that was slow and cherishing, a first time she'd remember forever, it was his precious Juliana. And so far, despite the fact that he'd been all but shaking with anticipation, all but trembling with need, he'd managed to keep going slowly.
But then he turned her around and saw all those tiny, fabric-covered buttons.
"What in heaven's name possessed you to order a dress with so many buttons?" he breathed through gritted teeth, more frustrated than he remembered ever being—ever. Good God, should he continue going as planned, should he continue going slowly, unbuttoning this damned dress was going to take all night. He would expire from want by the time he managed to unbutton all these buttons. He would perish of starvation. He would die from unrelenting need. "There must be at least a hundred buttons."
Juliana laughed, a low, frustrated laugh that made every nerve in his body sing. "I thought you liked buttons, James," she chided softly over her shoulder in a voice so heart-wrenchingly sensuous he feared he might go out of his mind. "For some reason, I've come to believe you like buttons. I instructed the seamstress to put so many buttons on my dress because I had the impression you'd enjoy unbuttoning all of them."
And in a sense, he did. Still clenching his jaw, he bent his head and steeled himself to the task. Slowly he swept the hair off the nape of her neck, slowly he placed a soft kiss on the sensitive, warm bit of skin above her top button. A cherishing kiss, drawing in her scent, that impossibly tempting scent of flowers and sunshine and Juliana. And then slowly he began unbuttoning the buttons, the never-ending column of buttons, kissing each precious new patch of skin as it was exposed along her sweet, slender back. And in a sense, he did enjoy it. But in another sense, the mounting pressure of anticipation seemed to be more, much more, than any man should have to bear.
It didn't take all night, but it took much, much longer than he wanted. Going slowly proved to be much, much harder than he'd hoped. Juliana sighed, and she moaned, and each of her sounds, each of her tiny, precious sounds seemed to crawl into him and lodge someplace in his heart. It seemed forever by the time he managed to unbutton all the buttons. It seemed longer than the longest month of his life.
After all the waiting, after all the torturous unbuttoning of buttons, he finally slid the loosened dress down her body, over curving hips, down silky limbs, her soft skin all burnished by the light of the flickering fire in the Gold Chamber. Finally, finally, he bore her down to the bed. And stood back, for what seemed like one everlasting moment, the last moment before he made Juliana his.
It was a moment he'd remember forever, a scene eternally imprinted in his mind. Cainewood Castle was filled with heavy, dark oak furnishings that had served her family well in the nearly six hundred years they'd owned the place, but this one room had been decorated for a royal visit in some previous century, and all the furniture was gilt, all the walls and the four-poster bed draped with heavy golden fabrics.
Everything seemed to glitter. Juliana's skin seemed to glitter, beckoning him. Juliana's eyes seemed to glitter, her passion-filled, half-closed eyes a deep, deep blue glitter that taunted him. Even her hair seemed to glitter. No sooner had they entered the room than he'd released it from its pins, and now all the shining straight tresses seemed to be shimmering over her shoulders, spread across the bedclothes, glimmering in the golden light.
An answering glimmer heating his body, he shucked the last of his clothes and lowered himself slowly to meet her. He didn't ask her this time. He knew what her answer would be, and he didn't want to hear any words. He wanted only to hear her soft cries as he finally, finally slid into her, as he finally, finally came home and made her his.
Juliana had dreamed of this moment, but nothing she'd imagined matched the feeling of completion when James joined his body with hers. Nothing had ever felt so beautiful, nothing had ever felt so right. Nothing had ever felt so perfect as the two of them together. It had been worth waiting for, she thought fiercely just before she seemed to burst into a million glittering pieces.
But still and all, as the million pieces slowly started drifting back together, as James kissed her again, his mouth a warm promise on hers, she couldn't help being thankful that she'd never have to wait again.
Author's Note
Dear Reader,
In April 1815, Mount Tambora erupted on the Indonesian island of Sumbawa, sending more ash into the air than any volcano in the last ten thousand years. Over the next year, the dust rose into the upper atmosphere and spread slowly across the planet, obscuring the sunlight to such an extent that extreme weather conditions prevailed in places halfway around the wo
rld. The growing season was plagued by a series of devastating cold waves that destroyed crops, greatly reducing the food supply and causing widespread famine. Snow fell in June, and 1816 came to be known as "The Year Without a Summer."
The people of the time hadn't the knowledge of our modern meteorologists, so they didn't know why the weather was so cold. Countless absurd theories were proposed, including those expounded by the guests at the balls in Tempting Juliana. Although some people did indeed blame Benjamin Franklin's lightning rods, had Franklin still been alive, he might have guessed the real reason. During a similar cold spell in 1784 caused by the great eruption of Mount Asama in Japan, Franklin wrote of a "constant fog over all Europe and a great part of North America," speculating that the dust he observed in the sky might be due to volcanic explosions or the breakup of meteorites.
In James's time, smallpox was sometimes called the Speckled Monster. Throughout recorded history, it killed ten percent of the population. As a youngster, before being variolated (intentionally infected with smallpox as a preventative measure), Edward Jenner was "prepared" by being starved, purged, and bled, and afterward he was locked in a stable with other ailing boys until the disease had run its course. All in all, it was an experience he would never forget—one that later inspired him to experiment and discover that immunization with cowpox prevented smallpox.
In 1801, after he pioneered vaccination, Jenner issued a pamphlet that ended with these words: "…the annihilation of the Small Pox, the most dreadful scourge of the human species, must be the final result of this practice." Unfortunately, almost 180 years went by before his prophecy came to pass.
In Tempting Juliana, James was too optimistic in hoping smallpox vaccinations would soon be made compulsory. England didn't pass such a law until 1853, and the World Health Organization (WHO) didn't launch its campaign to conquer smallpox until 1967. At that time, there were fifteen million cases of smallpox each year. The WHO's plan was to vaccinate everyone everywhere. Teams of vaccinators traveled the world to the remotest of communities.
The last documented case of smallpox occurred just eight years later, in 1975. After an anxious period of watching for new cases, in 1980 the WHO formally declared, "Smallpox is Dead!" Jenner's dream had come true: The most feared disease of all time had been eradicated.
The Foundling Hospital was established in 1739 by Captain Thomas Coram, a childless shipwright concerned about the plight of unwanted babies in London. In his time, seventy-four percent of the poor children born in London died before they turned five, and the death rate for children put in workhouses was more than ninety percent. In contrast, the Foundling Hospital's mortality rate was under thirty percent. If that sounds high, remember that smallpox, measles, tuberculosis (consumption), and other diseases were endemic during this period. Most people did not reach old age.
In 1740, artist William Hogarth, an early Governor of the Hospital, donated the first painting to the Hospital and encouraged other artists to follow his example—and thus England's first public art gallery was born. When the wealthy came to see the art or attend concerts given by another Governor, George Frideric Handel, they were encouraged to make charitable donations. Although there's no written record of anyone donating anything besides money, I like to think that the Governors would have been open to an idea like Juliana's.
By 1954, the year the Hospital closed, it had served more than 27,000 children. Today you can visit the Foundling Museum in London, which is on the site of the original Hospital and contains artifacts as well as the art collection, displayed in fully restored interiors.
Most of the homes in my books are inspired by real places you can see. Stafford House, James's home in St. James's Place, is based on Spencer House, one of the great architectural landmarks of London. Built in the eighteenth century by John, 1st Earl Spencer (an ancestor of Diana, Princess of Wales), it was immediately recognized as a building of major importance. Should you ever find yourself in London, I highly recommend a visit. Its exquisite rooms have all been restored, and you will see many of the antiquities Amanda admired in this book. Spencer House is open to the public every Sunday except during January and August.
The Chases' town house at 44 Berkeley Square has been described as "the finest terrace house of London." It was designed in 1742 by William Kent for Lady Isabella Finch. Unfortunately, you cannot visit, because the building is currently being used as a private club. But if you go to Berkeley Square, you can see it from the outside—look for the blue door.
Cainewood Castle, Griffin's home where Juliana and James married, is loosely modeled on Arundel Castle in West Sussex. It has been home to the Dukes of Norfolk and their family, the Fitzalan-Howards, since 1243, save for a short period during the Civil War. Although the family still resides there, portions of their magnificent home are open to visitors Sundays through Fridays from April to October.
I hope you enjoyed Tempting Juliana—thank you for reading!
Always,
Books by Lauren Royal
The Chase Family Series
Amethyst
Emerald
Forevermore (a Chase Family Series novella)
Amber
Violet
Lily
Rose
The Regency Chase Family Series
Lost in Temptation
Tempting Juliana
The Art of Temptation
Lauren's Books on Kobo
About Lauren Royal
I decided to become a writer in the third grade (or, as my Canadian friends call it, grade three), after winning a "Why My Mother is the Greatest" essay contest and having my entry published in a major newspaper. Seeing my words in print was a thrill! But everyone told me it's too hard for novelists to get published, so after college I spent fourteen years as the CEO of my own jewelry store chain before writing my first book. A mistake? Maybe...but my first heroine, Amethyst, was a jeweler, so at least I took advantage of that wise old saying, "Write what you know." And I learned a good lesson: Don't let other people tell you what you can or can't do!
I write humorous historical romance mostly set in England and Scotland in the 17th and 19th centuries (Restoration and Regency periods). I've been oh-so-lucky to see my books hit bestseller lists all over the world, including the New York Times and USA Today lists, making this second career a real dream come true. I live in Southern California with my family and a constantly shedding cat, and I still think my mother is the greatest!
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WORTH: LORD OF RECKONING
by Grace Burrowes
To those who keep house
Chapter One
“I do not have a sister.”
Despite extensive experience with difficult situations and unruly clients, Worth Kettering kept his voice civil only by effort. “The topic is sensitive, you see, because I had a sister. You will note the past tense.”
Mrs. Peese heaved herself to her feet. “My condolences on your loss, but Yolanda was quite, quite clear that you are her brother. When I reviewed the correspondence in the school’s files, I found that his lordship did, indeed, name you as his alternate in the event of an emergency. This constitutes an emergency.”
In all of creation, was any being more difficult to enlighten than the headmistress of an exclusive boarding school for young ladies? Kettering paced to the spotless French doors, through which, he would neither plough his fist nor run bellowing for his horse.
“I do not have a sister living on this earth. How many times must I say it?”
Mrs. Peese reminded Kettering of how he pictured the housekeeper at Trysting. Jacaranda Wyeth would share with Mrs. Peese a stout physique, energetic competence, and inflexible opinions about idleness, dirt, and the divine right of kings. With women of that ilk, he’d get nowhere using reason and probably less than nowhere using threats of force.
H
e turned to face the old besom and focused on the practicalities.
“Why don’t I simply hire the young lady a coach and have her delivered to the earl at the family seat?” The preferred option, as far as Kettering was concerned, and it would serve Hess right for creating this mess.
“His lordship has left for Scotland, Mr. Kettering, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“For God’s sake, I am not aware of the earl’s holiday schedule!”
She folded her arms across an ample bosom. By her lights, Kettering had likely committed three mortal sins in one sentence: He’d raised his voice, taken the Lord’s name in vain, and disrespected a peer of the realm. God—gads, rather.
You are a gentleman, he reminded himself. You are always a gentleman when dealing with ladies, clients, and children.
Most ladies.
“Brother?” A coltish blonde stood in the doorway to Mrs. Peese’s office. “Do you denounce me out of ignorance or out of spite?”
“Who the dev—deuce?”
Mrs. Peese’s expression became long-suffering. “Yolanda, please return to your room. Your brother and I will negotiate the terms of your departure.”
“Not if he has anything to say to it.” The young lady advanced into the room, and on some level no man of business ever ignored, she upset Kettering. She was in the last throes of adolescence and tallish—all the Ketterings were tall—and she had blond hair and blue eyes highly reminiscent of Moira. This Yolanda person held out her hand, thrusting a signet ring with a unicorn crest under Kettering’s nose.
A ring of the same design graced the fourth finger of his left hand. He’d been wearing it when he’d marched away from Grampion all those years ago.
My Favorite Rogue: 8 Wicked, Witty, and Swoon-worthy Heroes Page 44