He smiled, his heart softening. “Before Christmas?”
She drew a deep breath and nodded. “How about next week?”
Chapter Sixty
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 Readers,
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 world. 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 m
ost 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! Next up is Corinna’s story (and Griffin’s!) in The Art of Temptation. Please read on for an excerpt as well as more bonus material!
Always,
Lauren
Preview: The Art of Tempation
Sean Delaney has no shortage of female admirers, but all he wants is a divorce—for his sister, that is. Too bad her rotter of a husband, reclusive oil painter John Hamilton, won’t consent unless Sean agrees to help him pull off a major deception. With his sister’s happiness on the line, Sean has no choice. But he won’t be able to do it alone…
Though Lady Corinna Chase is more interested in pursuing her art than finding a husband, she can’t help but take notice of the handsome Irishman who’s moved in next door. When it soon becomes evident that her new neighbor isn’t who he says he is, rather than expose him, she finds herself drawn into the hoax. As collaboration grows into admiration, and temptation breeds desire, Corinna faces a difficult choice: Will she abandon her artistic ambitions, or give up the man she’s come to love?
Meanwhile, Corinna’s brother Griffin is helping their alluring cousin Rachael find her father. Thank goodness they’re cousins, because Rachael has made it clear she won’t ever marry one. Except…they discover she isn’t really his cousin. Good God, he’s really in trouble now…
Read an excerpt…
The British Museum, London ~ April 1817
“WE WANT TO see the Rosetta Stone,” two feminine voices chorused.
For the third time in the last quarter hour.
“Just a few more minutes,” Lady Corinna Chase promised her sisters, her gaze focused on her sketchbook.
“A few is three,” Alexandra, the oldest, pointed out. “Or maybe five. But certainly not thirty. You said ‘a few more minutes’ half an hour ago.”
“And half an hour before that,” Juliana, the middle sister, added.
The squeak of wheels threatened Corinna’s concentration. Alexandra was rolling a perambulator back and forth in hopes of soothing Harold, her infant son. Though it was all but unheard-of for ladies to cart their babies around town—most aristocratic mothers happily left their children in the care of wet nurses and nannies—Alexandra had insisted on buying one of the newfangled contraptions, because she rarely let little Harry out of her sight.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. “How can you gaze at statues for so long?”
“I’m not gazing. I’m drawing.” Corinna sketched another line, following the curve of a muscled male thigh. “And in case you haven’t noticed, the Elgin Marbles aren’t all statues. This particular panel is part of a frieze from the illustrious Parthenon in Greece. Even more important, the figures are anatomically correct.”
Which was why she was here, of course. Why she’d been willing to drag herself out of bed at an ungodly hour to sketch. Corinna wanted nothing more than to study human anatomy. Unfortunately, the anatomy classes at the Royal Academy of Arts were entirely forbidden to women.
Entirely.
Forbidden.
It was infuriating. Corinna’s fondest wish was to be elected to the Royal Academy, an honor no woman had attained since 1768. Though she harbored no dreams of accomplishing this goal at her current age of twenty-two—for one thing, Academicians had to be at least twenty-four years old—getting nominated and eventually elected was a long, involved process, and she hoped to take her first step within a matter of weeks, by getting one of her paintings accepted for the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition.
That was something women did accomplish on a regular basis, although not usually with portraits. Traditionally, ladies painted only landscapes and still lifes—painting people was considered fast and unseemly. Regardless, Corinna’s heart lay in painting portraits. She was drawn to the human form, compelled to render personalities in oil on canvas.
But how was a female supposed to accurately paint people if she wasn’t allowed to attend anatomy classes?
“We cannot stay much longer,” Juliana said. “I need to make sure everything’s in place for Cornelia’s wedding.” Cornelia, Juliana’s mother-in-law, was marrying Lord Cavanaugh at her home later that evening. “And I want to see the Rosetta Stone,” she added for the fourth time.
“So go see it.”
“And I want to see the gems and minerals,” Alexandra said. “And the jeweled—”
“Go see it all. Go see everything in the museum.” Corinna flipped a page, refocusing on the nude form of the gorgeous Greek god before her. “I’ll be right here.”
“That would take an hour or more.” Squeak. Squeak. “We cannot leave you here in the Elgin Gallery alone.”
“I’m not alone. There are people everywhere.” Too many people, constantly jostling her and blocking her view.
“The Rosetta Stone is in the main building.”
“It’s perfectly proper for two married ladies to cross the museum grounds together.” Unlike Corinna, who was known as a bit of a rebel, her sisters were always concerned with being proper. “I knew I should have brought Aunt Frances along instead. She’s more patient than either of you.”
“She’s also nine months gone with child.” Alexandra sighed. “We’ll be back in an hour.”
“Make that two or three,” Corinna muttered as they left. Hearing the pram squeak-squeak toward the door, she smiled and licked her lips. She an
d the Greek god were alone at last.
Holy Hannah, he was magnificent.
If only she could find a real man who looked like this…
Not that she was planning to wed anytime soon, much to her brother Griffin’s chagrin. He wanted nothing more than to marry her off, to have her—his last unwed sister—out of his house and off of his hands. To make her someone else’s responsibility.
To that end, he’d insisted on shoving her toward eligible men at all the balls this year. He’d also been dragging her to Almack’s and every other social event on the calendar. The season had been underway but a few weeks, yet she felt as though she’d met more men this month than the rest of her life combined.
It was annoying, to say the least.
She did enjoy balls, and she also liked men, of course. She’d especially liked kissing the few who had managed to get her alone. Although artists were supposed to be passionate creatures, she’d sadly lacked passion in her life until recently. Her grandmother, father, mother, and eldest brother had died in succession, keeping her from socializing for four long years.
Now that she’d finally experienced some passion, she’d found men’s lips to be softer and warmer than she’d expected, and the closeness had proved positively exhilarating. Enjoyable indeed. But right now her art was more important than finding love.
Unless she were to find one of these Greek gods…
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she used her pencil to shade the fascinating muscles on the god’s toned bare chest. Then, looking up, she spotted two gentlemen heading in her direction. As though some higher power had read her mind and sent him to fulfill her fantasy, the taller one seemed to her a Greek god come to life.
It Happened One Night: Six Scandalous Novels Page 160
