by Lauren Royal
JULIANA
Lauren Royal & Devon Royal
Juliana is the SWEET YOUNG ADULT edition of Tempting Juliana by Lauren Royal
1st Edition, July 2015
Novelty Press
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Book Description
More Chase Family Books
A Message from Devon...
Cover Image
Dedication
1: Lady Juliana Chase's sisters often accused her of looking for trouble.
2: "How many baby clothes do you need to make?"
3: James Trevor, the young Earl of Stafford, hadn't been to a ball in years.
4: "This pink is pretty," Emily said Monday at Grafton House...
5: "Where is Amanda?" Juliana said Wednesday afternoon in the drawing room.
6: "I really must be on my way, Aunt Aurelia."
7: Over the next two days, Juliana helped Amanda order an entire new wardrobe.
8: The trifle was chilled in its silver bowl by the time...
9: "There he is," Amanda said grimly as they stepped into Lady Hammersmithe's ballroom.
10: Wary of Juliana's grin, Griffin watched her heading his way with their cousin in tow.
11: Everyone who was anyone was at Lady Hammersmithe's ball.
12: While Amanda was off dancing with her fourth or fifth potential suitor...
13: "I say, Cainewood. You're looking a bit foxed."
14: Despite having persuaded her cousins to attend her party, Juliana...
15: "What do you think of this dress, dear?" Sitting across from James...
16: "This doesn't look like a nice neighborhood," Aunt Frances said...
17: Wondering what Juliana wanted of him, James led...
18: Before the duke left on Monday afternoon, he'd asked...
19: "You-you-you're afraid of Herman!"
20: Juliana placed little mounds of dough on...
21: As James's carriage crawled toward the Egyptian Hall...
22: The exterior of the museum at Number Twenty-two Piccadilly...
23: "I cannot see," Frances complained.
24: It seemed lately people talked of nothing but the unusually cold weather...
25: "So," Juliana said to James as they waltzed, "have you decided...
26: "Isn't this a stunning carriage?" Juliana asked as she and Amanda...
27: After dinner, when the ladies would usually have left the gentlemen...
28: "I cannot believe you didn't tell me you'd talked to Lord Stafford," Amanda said...
29: James handed the hopeful young woman a pencil...
30: The Billingsgate ball was in full swing, and music...
31: "You're foxed," Juliana told James later as they danced.
32: The next morning dawned unusually bright and sunny, which should have made Juliana...
33: Dark was falling.
34: "Goodness gracious," Lady Frances said, giggling...
35: "It's the rheumatism, I fear," Lady Avonleigh said the next afternoon.
36: "Where's my aunt?" Juliana cried. "And Lord Malmsey?"
37: James's aunts had proved to be even better seamstresses than Rachael and her sisters.
38: As James was leaving that evening, his mother walked into Stafford House.
39: Juliana was scandalized.
40: Lord Malmsey was the youngest man in attendance at the Pevenseys' musical evening.
41: For five days—ever since she'd come to his house and offered to volunteer...
42: On Saturday evening, Griffin watched Juliana scan the Teddingtons' ballroom.
43: Aunts Aurelia and Bedelia had been thrilled when James asked them...
44: After James left, Juliana returned to the ballroom, furious...
45: In his study at Stafford House the next day, James...
46: As Lady Hartley's guests followed the Wolverstons from the room...
47: The next day, Juliana paced around the drawing room...
48: Even with a flurry of activity, Juliana's afternoon...
49: Juliana and Castleon were both sure Lord Wolverston wasn't stupid...
50: "Why are you so sad, Lady Juliana?"
51: There were different ways of dealing with the blows life randomly chucked...
52: For two days, Juliana had done little but sew baby clothes...
53: James's eyes met Juliana's, and they both sucked in their breaths.
54: At the top of the elegant staircase, James didn't walk Juliana...
55: And so it was that James arrived at Lady Amanda's house...
56: In the end, Amanda was the one who objected.
57: "Thank you very much," one of the Foundling Hospital's Governers said...
58: In recent weeks, when Juliana had dreamed of walking down the aisle...
59: Five hours later, James found himself...
Thank You!
Bonus Material
Author's Note
Books by Lauren & Devon Royal
Regency Chase Family Tree
Contest
Excerpt from CORINNA
About the Authors
Acknowledgments
Contact Information
Copyright Page
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Juliana is the SWEET YOUNG ADULT edition of Tempting Juliana by Lauren Royal
London, 1816
Lady Juliana Chase has never met a problem she couldn’t solve—or one she could resist. If friends and family don’t always appreciate her efforts on their behalf, well, that’s only because they underestimate her. James Trevor, the young Earl of Stafford, is a prime example—Juliana knows her friend Amanda is the perfect match for James, but he seems intent on spoiling her plans. Lucky for him, “defeat” isn’t in Juliana’s vocabulary…
Just as James realized his dream of studying medicine, tragedy stole the love of his life. Though it’s time to move on, the last thing he wants is another romantic entanglement—ever. But somehow he’s got two: first, this ridiculous matchmaking scheme of Juliana’s, and second, an inexplicable infatuation with the matchmaker herself. If he’s going to get the girl, he’ll have to beat her at her own game—and there’s no easy victory when you’re playing with the stubbornest, most cunning meddler in all of London…
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A MESSAGE FROM DEVON…
Not gonna lie, I thought it was pretty cool growing up with an author for a mom! I’d always been into books (like, every morning when 1st grade reading time ended, Mrs. Schultz had to physically pry the book from my hands), plus there were perks. Mom was always home with us kids, so we never had to go to daycare. She was also always on deadline, so we got to eat a lot of Pizza Hut for dinner. And I could impress my friends by moseying into Barnes & Noble and casually pointing out my mom’s books on the shelves.
The only problem: I wasn’t allowed to read them!
Her romance novels were for and about adults, and I was just a kid. A kid who loved books and hated rules—so you can imagine my dismay.
Of course, the instant I was old enough, I swiped a full set of her books from the garage and devoured them all in a row. And I wasn’t surprised when I loved every one, because, you guys, my mom is seriously awesome.
Recently the aforementioned awesome lady had an awesome idea: releasing new, revised versions of her novels geared at a young adult audience, so that people of all ages can enjoy them. To think, all those dismay-ful years could have been avoided!
I knew instantly I was the girl for the job. My mom and I have been writing together basically since I learned how to ty
pe—our first all-new YA release, Alice Betrothed, is a project we started when I was in middle school—plus, I was a real live teenager myself only a few years ago. I’ve got the embarrassing pictures to prove it.
There’s a crazy amount of fantastic YA and romance out there right now—we’re SO excited that you’ve chosen our book! Like, spontaneous-dance-party-excited! I would be doing the robot right now if I weren’t busy typing. Maybe I’ll wrap up this letter so I can go do that.
I so hope you’ll enjoy Juliana’s story!
xoxo
June 2015
To see the Regency Chase Family Tree, click here!
For our Chase Family Readers’ Group.
With our everlasting thanks for all of your support!
ONE
The Foundling Hospital, London
Saturday, June 8, 1816
LADY JULIANA Chase’s sisters often accused her of looking for trouble. Of sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Of exaggerating—if not outright imagining—other people’s problems and sorrows and miseries.
But she would swear she’d never seen anything quite so sad in her life.
Upstairs in the Foundling Hospital’s picture gallery, she stared through the window down into the courtyard. There, arranged in six neat, regimented lines, a hundred or more young girls performed calisthenics, resignation written on their faces. In all of her seventeen years, Juliana couldn’t remember ever feeling that grim.
“William Hogarth was a genius.”
Sighing, she turned from the window to see her younger sister scrutinizing the art on the gallery’s pale green walls. “I thought you preferred the Dutch masters.”
“I do,” Corinna said. “But look at the characters in this painting.”
The work was titled The March of the Guards to Finchley, and the people depicted were, indeed, characters. Humor, rowdiness, and disorder abounded. “The drummer looks quite amused,” Juliana said, swiveling back to the window.
The painting seemed a striking counterpoint to the figures outside.
Miss Emily Neville, Juliana’s eight-year-old next-door neighbor, stood beside her, gazing upon the same scene. “The girls don’t appear to be ill. So why are they in hospital?”
“Hospital is an old word that originally meant ‘guesthouse,’” Miss Strickland, the battle-axe of a woman assigned to shepherd visitors through the orphanage, explained in her no-nonsense way. “This is a charitable institution for children whose mothers couldn’t keep them.”
“My mother died.” Still gazing outdoors, Emily absentmindedly raised a hand to stroke her beloved pet, Herman, whom she always carried on her shoulder—or rather, draped around her shoulders. “May I play with the girls?”
Ranging in age from about five to perhaps fourteen, the children all had identical haircuts and wore aprons of stiff, unbleached linen over brown serge dresses. Juliana smoothed her palms over her own soft yellow skirts. “I’m afraid your pet might scare them.”
“The girls aren’t playing.” Miss Strickland crossed her arms. “They’re exercising. Outdoor exercise is advocated for maximum health. And you couldn’t play with them in any case, young lady, with or without that horrid creature.”
“Herman isn’t horrid,” Emily said, turning to the older woman. “He’s quite friendly, and he couldn’t hurt a soul, I assure you. See the black bars along his sides and the yellow collar behind his head?” She lifted Herman’s head to show Miss Strickland. “He’s just a harmless, common—”
“Get it away!” the woman shrieked.
Juliana hid a smile. Not long ago, she’d received the very same lecture from her young neighbor. For a child of eight, the girl spoke with impressive eloquence and conviction. Not to mention persistence.
Still, her pet snake would have to go.
Emily was Juliana’s latest project, and Juliana was sure that with a bit of patience she could turn the child into a perfect little lady. A young lady of good grace and courtesy—most especially the courtesy to leave one’s reptile at home. A few more outings like this one ought to convince her that Herman would never be welcome in public.
She took Emily’s hand and gave it a squeeze, then looked back to Miss Strickland. “Do the girls ever play?”
“Of course they do,” Miss Strickland said. “For an hour every Sunday.” As though suddenly remembering her duty—principally to encourage donations—she stretched her lips into an unnatural smile. “Are you ladies enjoying your visit to the gallery?”
“Very much.” Corinna moved to view the next painting. “George Lambert,” she breathed. An artist herself, she’d suggested this day’s outing to the Foundling Hospital’s gallery. “What a lovely scene.”
Mr. Lambert’s picture was lovely, but Juliana couldn’t peruse the painted people for long. Not when there were real people—disadvantaged children—to consider.
“What do the foundlings do all day?” she asked. “If they don’t play?”
Miss Strickland began reciting by rote. “They rise at six and prepare for the day, the older girls dressing the younger children, the boys pumping water and such. At half past seven they breakfast, and at half past eight they begin school. At one o’clock they dine and return to school from two until dusk.” She paused for a much-needed breath. “After supper, those not employed about the buildings are instructed in singing the Foundling Hymns and anthems, and in their catechism. At eight they go to bed.”
What a life. Thinking about her own days and nights filled with parties and shopping and dancing, Juliana swallowed a lump in her throat. Still, the children looked healthy, warmly clothed, and well fed—which she supposed was more than could be said for much of London’s youth.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“Certainly, my lady. We are always pleased to accept monetary donations.”
Juliana knew that was one of the purposes of the gallery. Popular artists donated paintings and sculpture, a scheme that not only earned favorable publicity for the artists, but brought the Hospital wealthy and aristocratic visitors—exactly the sort of people who might commission works of art for themselves and be persuaded to become patrons of the Hospital. It was a most satisfactory arrangement for all concerned.
But Juliana hadn’t the option to become a patroness just yet. While she had a substantial dowry and wasn’t in any way deprived—quite the opposite, in fact—as an unmarried girl she had no money of her own, other than a small allowance granted by her brother, Griffin. “I cannot donate significant funds,” she said apologetically.
Miss Strickland aimed a rather disbelieving look down her knife-edged nose, pointedly skimming her gaze over Juliana’s fashionable dress.
“I cannot,” Juliana repeated firmly. “But I should like to do something.” She could ask Griffin to donate, of course—and she would. But she wanted to contribute herself. “Perhaps I could make clothing for the children.” Her allowance was surely enough to cover the fabric.
“The children have no need of clothing. They wear uniforms, as you’ve seen.”
Juliana had seen the boys eating luncheon in their dining room, all wearing white linen shirts with military-style suits made of the same brown serge as the girls’ dresses. “But someone has to make the uniforms.”
“The girls make and repair them during their sewing lessons.”
“Then perhaps I can make treats,” she suggested. “The ladies in my family are rather renowned for our sweets.”
“The children are all fed a plain, wholesome diet. Sweets aren’t allowed except on very special occasions. However, food does account for a large proportion of the Hospital’s budget, so your monetary donation would be much appreciated.” Before Juliana could repeat that she had no money to give, Miss Strickland continued. “This is a reception day. Perhaps looking upon the infants might persuade you.”
Though Juliana knew nothing could change her mind, she adored tiny babies. “We should very much like to see the infants,” she
said, drawing Emily toward the door.
“I’m not finished looking,” Corinna said, finally moving to view the next painting.
The battle-axe cast her a speculative glance. “Well, then, the horrid snake can stay with you.”
“Herman isn’t horrid!” Emily said, pulling her hand from Juliana’s. “If Herman stays, I shall stay.” She marched over to take Corinna’s hand instead. “There’s an infant right here in this picture.”
Corinna nodded her dark head. “It’s Andrea Casali’s Adoration of the Magi.”
Juliana would never understand how anyone could stare at a single painting for so long. Two minutes with any painting, and she was finished. But then, she’d never been as interested in things as she’d been in people. “What’s a reception day?” she asked, trailing the battle-axe out of the room.
Miss Strickland led her down a corridor. “On the second Saturday of every month, mothers are invited to bring their babies for possible admission.”
“Possible?”
“They must meet specific criteria. An acceptable candidate must be under twelve months of age, the mother’s first child, and healthy, so as not to risk infecting other children. In addition, although only illegitimate offspring are admitted, the mother must establish her good character. A secondary purpose of the Hospital, you see, is the restoration of the mother to work and a life of virtue. Most petitions come from women who were seduced with promises of marriage and then deserted when they became pregnant. In such cases, many mothers can avoid disgrace and find employment only if they give up their children.”
“How awful!” Juliana felt a twinge in her chest. She couldn’t begin to imagine the heartbreak of having a baby and then needing to give it up. She certainly wasn’t exaggerating these mothers’ sorrows and miseries.
Miss Strickland opened a door. “The Committee Room,” she whispered.
Inside the elegant chamber, a queue of young mothers clutched their infants tightly, the expressions on their faces a mixture of anguish and hope. Their simple cloaks and aprons were a poignant contrast to the silk gowns of the fashionable lady patronesses who’d come to observe the spectacle.
