THE ART OF TEMPTATION
Lauren Royal
Author's Cut Edition
Novelty Press
THE ART OF TEMPTATION by Lauren Royal - Author's Cut Edition
Published by Novelty Books, a division of Novelty Publishers, LLC, 848 N. Rainbow Blvd, Suite 4390, Las Vegas NV 89107
Originally published in paperback by Penguin Putnam Inc.
COPYRIGHT © Lauren Royal 2007, 2012
ISBN 978-1-938907-12-8
8th Edition, March 2015
Cover by Kimberly Killion
Book Design by Typesetter For Mac
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any manner whatsoever, electronically, in print, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both Lauren Royal and Novelty Books, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Authors work months or years on their books and need to feed their families, just like you do. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Learn more about the author and her books at LaurenRoyal.com.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Book Description
More Chase Family Books
A Message from Lauren...
Dedication
Prologue: On a damp Tuesday shortly after he turned eighteen, life as Sean Delaney had known it...
1: "We want to see the Rosetta Stone," two feminine voices chorused.
2: "I have a problem," Hamilton announced without preamble when Sean...
3: If only she could find a real man who looked like this...
4: Lady Stafford and Lord Cavanaugh's wedding was a modest affair...
5: Few people were strolling in Green Park this Thursday evening.
6: The homes on the east and west sides of Berkeley Square...
7: Griffin spent all of Friday morning seated across from Rachael...
8: "You're not going to stay up till all hours again, are you?"
9: Lady Partridge lived in a small mansion at the edge of Mayfair.
10: Lord Lincolnshire held up a hand, interrupting...
11: Shortly after noon on Monday, Sean paced outside the gate...
12: "Nephew?" "Hmm?" "I wish to see your studio today."
13: Corinna stood before her easel in Berkeley Square the next day...
14: "You look grand indeed in that dress," Sean murmured...
15: Yesterday's discovery that John Hamilton was really...
16: "I wonder why Corinna's so nervous," Rachael said to her sisters...
17: Upon arriving at Lincolnshire House the next afternoon, Corinna...
18: "Thank you," Sean said simply as he walked Corinna toward the door later.
19: Early Monday evening at Lincolnshire House, Corinna...
20: Five minutes later, after Corinna departed...
21: "A lovely first vintage."
22: Very handsome gentleman," Juliana commented...
23: "Griffin," Rachael said. "What are you doing here?"
24: The Billingsgates had a rather impressive art collection...
25: Sean had decided that the day he'd brought Lincolnshire to Hamilton's studio...
26: "How does Lord Lincolnshire fare today?" Sean asked...
27: As was customary, the furniture in Aunt Frances's Hanover Square home...
28: Hanover Square, Tuesday 13 May. My dear cousin...
29: Finally the day of the reception dawned.
30: The earl's health was failing fast.
31: Holy Hannah. Corinna had to forcibly close her mouth.
32: Her grandfather was here somewhere.
33: "How shall we work this?" Setting his large case full of art supplies on the table, Sean...
34: The next day, Lincolnshire perked up.
35: "Oh, Aunt Frances, she's beautiful."
36: They met in the afternoon this time, so Sean didn't bother lighting any candles.
37: Corinna couldn't sketch. She could only stare.
38: Corinna had never painted so fast in her life.
39: Berkeley Square, Saturday 17 May. My dear cousin...
40: "I saw her here earlier," Rachael said...
41: "Did you not sleep well?" Dierdre asked solicitously when Sean...
42: As the clock on the mantel struck ten on Sunday night, Corinna...
43: Sean didn't slam into the breakfast room Monday morning.
44: Half an hour later, Griffin found himself on Lady Avonleigh's doorstep again.
45: "I don't know where to begin, Lady Avonleigh."
46: Corinna paced the foyer, watching the clock tick...
47: In the wee hours, the earl died.
48: Excitement still simmered in Corinna on Tuesday...
49: An earl's funeral bore little resemblance to the simple ceremonies...
50: "Corinna," Sean said when she walked in.
51: As Friday afternoon slid into evening, Corinna stood alone...
52: "Can I not just be sad over the loss of Lord Lincolnshire?"
53: Griffin had kissed Rachael in his study.
54: The atmosphere in Hampstead was very thick that Friday evening.
55: "You're late," Juliana said when Griffin arrived...
56: When Sean arrived in Queen Street on Monday at noon...
57: Still holding Corinna's hand, Sean walked with her...
58: A short time later, Griffin found himself seated on a sofa in his drawing room...
59: The Great Room, which housed the Summer Exhibition...
60: "Well," Griffin said. "That's it." Upstairs in the Berkeley Square town house...
Thank You!
Bonus Material
Author's Note
Books by Lauren Royal
Regency Chase Family Tree
Excerpt from AMETHYST
Contest
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Jewels of Historical Romance
Contact Information
BOOK DESCRIPTION
London, 1817
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…
MORE CHASE FAMILY BOOKS
For mo
re information, click on a cover.
Chase Family Series
Regency Chase Family Series
Renaissance Chase Family Series
Boxed Sets
A MESSAGE FROM LAUREN…
It’s not common for an author to center all her novels around a single family, but by the time I began writing in the Regency period, I had fallen in love with the Chase family.
The Chases came to me all at once. For my first books, I wanted to write about people who were affected by their times, and 17th century England seemed like the perfect storm of political and social upheaval. So the Chase siblings were born: strong personalities forged through childhood experiences of war, exile, and tragedy.
After their 7-book series, I was ready for a new direction but I wasn’t willing to leave the Chases behind! They felt as real to me as my own family. So I created a new generation of Chases in the elegant Regency era. I had a lot of fun tying these characters together across the centuries. Though over a hundred years had passed, traces of the original Chases are woven into the Regency novels, hidden in old portraits, hereditary traits, and family legend (the truth of which astute readers will know better than the Regency Chases do!).
My daughter and I are now writing Chase books set in the Renaissance era, so the tradition continues. Will I ever write about a different family? I can’t say for sure, but I'm not ready to walk away from the Chases yet!
I love to keep in touch with my readers! Join my e-newsletter to receive free and bargain book suggestions each week as well as new release bulletins. And if you fall in love with the Chase Family, I'd be thrilled to see you in my Readers’ Group on Facebook, where I share sneak peeks and gather suggestions from my favorite readers.
There are so many great romance novels out there—thank you for choosing mine. I so hope you’ll enjoy Sean and Corinna’s (and Griffin and Rachael’s!) story.
Happy reading!
To see the Regency Chase Family Tree, click here!
For June Jørgensen Schelde-Mollerup,
who has been part of my family
for more than (gulp!) twenty-three years.
I cannot believe you have three
children of your own now!
PROLOGUE
IRISH WHISKEY CAKE
Take butter with sugar and put in this eggs and flour and a bit 'o coffee to make a nice flavour. Put in your pan and bake in your oven. Make a syrup of coffee with much sugar and a wee dram 'o whiskey and pour this into your cake. Bring to table with sweet whiskey cream and a sprinkle of nuts.
My mother used to caution, "Who gossips with you will gossip of you." Nonetheless, she surely did love to gossip. She used to serve this cake when the womenfolk came for tea. She claimed it loosened ladies' tongues.
—Deirdre Delaney Raleigh, 1819
Kilburton, Ireland
November 1806
ON A DAMP Tuesday shortly after he turned eighteen, life as Sean Delaney had known it ceased to exist.
First he received a letter, an event in itself. All of Sean's acquaintances lived in the village of Kilburton—nobody ever had reason to write him a letter. A very official letter it looked, too. As Sean watched the lad who had delivered it retreat down the lane, his mother came in from the sitting room where she'd been serving tea to some womenfolk from the parish.
"Was it not Mary McBride, then?" Ma asked. "She's late."
"It wasn't Mrs. McBride, no." Sean shut the door and turned to her, the single folded sheet clutched in a hand. "It's a letter. For me."
"For you?" Her pleasant, guileless face looked as surprised as he felt. "Well, open it, then, will you?"
He nodded and broke the seal.
"Who is it from?" she asked impatiently.
"A solicitor." Below the imposing engraved letterhead, he scanned down the page. "'On behalf of Mr. Patrick Delaney—'"
"Who's that?"
He shrugged. "One of Da's relations, I expect."
"Your father has no living relations." She frowned. "What is he wanting, then?"
"He's wanting…" He read further and gasped. "He's not wanting anything. He's dead. And he left ten thousand pounds. To me."
"Ten thousand pounds?"
To a vicar's wife like Ma, the number was all but incomprehensible—enough to support a villager and his family and a servant or two for fifty years. Staring at Sean, she slowly lowered herself to a plain oak chair. Muffled feminine voices tumbled from the sitting room—her guests were gossiping, no doubt. Uncharacteristically, she ignored them.
"Ten thousand pounds, Sean. Whatever will you do with so much money?"
"I don't know," he said.
But he did know. He'd known instantly. He just didn't want to tell her.
He didn't want to disappoint her, not yet.
"I'm after going for a walk." He grabbed a heavy wool cloak from the peg by the door. "I shan't be gone long," he promised softly before slipping outside.
It was raining, as usual this time of year. As usual all year, for that matter. Tucking the letter inside the cloak where it would stay dry, he hurried down the lane.
Such a vast amount of money, more than Ma had seen in her entire lifetime. She would want him to do good with it. Charitable works or some such. She was a vicar's wife, after all, and a very kindly one at that.
But Sean didn't want to do good. Oh, he'd pay the expected tithe. He was a vicar's son, perhaps not as devout as his father would wish, but no rebel either. The tithe would be an unprecedented boon for the parish, one Sean would be pleased to provide. He'd been raised with all of these folks—spent his entire life surrounded by them, cocooned in their comfortable familiarity—and it seemed right that they should share a tenth of his good fortune.
But after that, he was going to leave Ireland.
He was going to London.
He was going to make a life for himself, something better than he'd ever imagined growing up in wee Kilburton.
It wasn't going to be easy to leave kinfolk and friends, to strike out on his own. He knew that. His heart seemed both heavy and light as he turned away from the village, crossed the harvested fields, wandered the age-old riverbank. Touching the precious letter beneath his cloak, he alternately laughed, pondering his immense luck, and trembled, wondering what lay ahead.
Three hours passed—three tense, exhilarating hours—before he took a deep breath and started home. It had stopped raining. When he reentered the village, the sun was setting low on the horizon, its last rays fighting through the cloud cover as he trod the lane toward the vicarage. Just before he reached the squat house, two figures came out of it, dark shadows against the silvery glow.
"You have no choice." The Honorable Mr. William Hamilton's voice came low and angry through the gloom. An imposing man if not a tall one, he was the same height as the son he pulled toward their fancy carriage. "Not this time."
Wondering what was going on but not wanting to be seen, Sean hid himself behind a tree.
"You paid off that village girl without any repercussions." Young John Hamilton sounded sullen, furious. "And that maid—"
"Two. Two lowly maids." His father pushed him up the carriage's steps. "She's not some servant's get, you idiot," he muttered, following his son inside. "I'd lose face should you not—"
The door shut, and Sean heard nothing else. As the carriage rumbled off, he stepped from behind the tree and hurried into the house.
It was warm, welcoming, filled with the soft light of oil lamps and redolent with the scent of the whiskey cake his mother had baked earlier for her guests. A good home, simple but clean and cared for. Sean had a fine family, a sister three years his junior and parents who had always been there for both of them, giving of their hearts although they'd never had much to give materially.
He felt sad, knowing he'd soon be leaving all of this, and also excited about his new life. But mostly, he was mighty curious to learn what had made the Hamiltons leave their huge manor house to pay a call at the modest v
icarage.
Hearing voices from the sitting room, he headed there. And stopped short when his sister turned to him with a grin. "I'm marrying John Hamilton."
Sean gaped at fifteen-year-old Deirdre. He couldn't have heard her right. "What did you just say?"
Her golden hair gleaming in the firelight, she lifted her chin. "Mr. Hamilton told John he'd have to marry me."
"But why?" His gaze shot from his father's bloodless face to his mother's eyes, swollen from weeping. There could be only one reason they looked like that, one reason John Hamilton might be forced to wed Deirdre. "Don't tell me you're…" As he looked back to his sister, the rest of the sentence stuck in his throat.
Her grin widened as she folded her hands over her deceivingly flat middle. "I'm with child, aye. And I'll be the wife of John Hamilton, the handsomest, richest unmarried man in all of Kilburton."
In all of the county, more like. The Hamiltons' lofty new manor house sat in the shadow of their ancestral home, centuries-old Kilburton Castle. John Hamilton's father was the younger brother of the Earl of Lincolnshire, sent years ago to oversee Kilburton, one of the earl's many lesser estates.
Growing up, Sean and Deirdre had been educated in a chilly one-room schoolhouse, while John had a parade of private English tutors. The boy had always been temperamental, and Sean had thought him haughty, unfeeling, and selfish. But the two had been born the same year, and since there were no other lads their age in Kilburton, Sean's mother had told him to play with John anyway. After all, she'd often said—all too often, in Sean's estimation—it was the Christian thing to do.
Being a biddable sort of son, Sean had done what he was told and played with the fellow more times than he could count. But Hamilton had always wanted to stay inside and fiddle with paste and paint, while Sean preferred outdoor pursuits like fishing and building forts. He'd never really liked John Hamilton.
Deirdre, on the other hand, a rather wild girl and the bane of her parents' existence, obviously liked John Hamilton just fine.
Art of Temptation (Regency Chase Family Series, Book 3) Page 1
