TemptingJuliana (19 page)

A lovely place to steal a lady’s virtue, or at the very least a few kisses. Which James had no intention of doing with Lady Amanda.

On the other hand, it could be a lovely place to visit with Juliana.

Convincing her of that, however, might be a trick to rival hers.

In truth, James had felt rather dazed upon learning that, in her determination to match him with Amanda, Juliana had been willing to resort to trickery. Dazed and a little bit panicked. Although he realized meddling was in her blood—one didn’t have to know Juliana more than a few minutes to conclude that—he’d thought he’d been making progress toward attracting her.

Had his efforts to tempt her accomplished nothing?
Obviously, touching Juliana and unbuttoning his shirt were not enough. He’d have to employ stronger tactics if he wanted to kiss her and make sure she didn’t ruin her life by marrying stuffy Castleton.

“I wouldn’t know where to take Lady Amanda in Vauxhall Gardens,” he told her, rolling his sleeves up a little more. “Perhaps you should come with me instead the first time, to show me the good places.”

“I don’t think—” Juliana’s gaze was fastened on his arms. It wandered up to his open shirt. “The gardens are closed on Sundays. Shall we make it tomorrow night?”

“Parliament will be in session—”

“If you want a child, James,” she said, finally looking him in the face, “you need to put courting ladies before the House of Lords.”

Perhaps he should. Since he wasn’t making any progress with his bill, perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to make progress with Juliana his priority. For a day, at least. Or a night.

“Very well,” he said.

“Good.” She glanced at his arms again, which he found somewhat encouraging. “I must get home before the guests arrive for my sewing party.”

He nodded and started from the room. “I’ll come by for you at seven o’clock Monday.”

“I’ll see that Aunt Frances is ready,” she said as they walked through the library.

Tempting Juliana was difficult even without an audience. The last thing he wanted was her chaperone hovering nearby. “Do you suppose Lord Malmsey would like to accompany your aunt?”

“I’m sure he would.” She went lightly down the stairs, her renewed good cheer lifting James’s heart. She was such a delight. A treasure. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she said.

Yes, it was. Lord Malmsey seemed quite enamored with Lady Frances, which meant he’d have an eye to getting her alone, which in turn would leave James alone with Juliana. The plan was sounding better and better.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said. His butler opened the front door, revealing Griffin outside pacing around the Cainewood carriage.

“Until tomorrow,” Juliana echoed, starting toward her brother. “Wait,” she said, turning back. “I forgot to ask if you’d like me to volunteer next week at the Institute.”

She would come again without her aunt…If James failed to kiss her at Vauxhall, maybe he could get her alone in one of the treatment rooms. “Absolutely,” he told her with a smile. “How about Friday?”

“Friday will be fine.” Returning his smile, she headed toward the carriage.

The butler shut the door behind her, but not before James heard Griffin’s impatient huff. “Why in blazes did it take you so long to ask the man one simple question?”

Dark was falling.

Juliana had arrived at Vauxhall Gardens with James, Aunt Frances, and Lord Malmsey at about eight o’clock Monday night, while the sun was still gracing the summer sky. It was a fine July evening, perhaps a bit chillier than usual, but without the slightest hint of rain. The pleasure gardens had proved as lovely as she’d hoped, spacious and laid out in delightful walks, bounded with high hedges and towering trees, and paved with gravel that crunched beneath their shoes.

For the first half hour they’d strolled, finding something charming around every corner. Pavilions, grottoes, temples and cascades, porticos, colonnades, and rotundas. Here was a striking pillar, there a wonderful statue, in the distance a series of large, picturesque paintings. Throngs of visitors promenaded, showing off their finest clothing, their rowdy laughter and whispered endearments filling the night air.

Now, with the sun sinking low, they were seated at a table for four by the building that housed the orchestra, a structure that struck Juliana as Moorish or perhaps Gothic—she couldn’t decide which, but regardless, it was magnificent. Its second story was open in the front so the musicians were visible inside.

While they listened to a pleasing variety of popular
songs and serious compositions, they enjoyed a light supper, feasting on cold chicken and bread and cheese accompanied by French claret. Aunt Frances was astounded at the exorbitant cost of the diminutive portions.

“My word,” she said disapprovingly, “this Vauxhall ham is sliced so thin one could read a newspaper through it!”

Lord Malmsey laughed and motioned to a serving girl to order more. “Would you like some cheesecake, too, my dear?”

“It cannot be as good as Juliana’s,” James said, shooting her a warm smile.

So he’d eaten her Richmond Maids of Honour and enjoyed them. Feeling inordinately pleased about that, Juliana smiled back.

As the musicians played the last notes of a piece composed by Handel, a piercing whistle split the night. “What is that?” she asked.

Lord Malmsey cocked his balding head. “Have you never been here before, Lady Juliana?”

She was about to tell him she hadn’t, but then she remembered James didn’t know that. “Not at night,” she said instead. But a part of her wondered why she’d accepted James’s invitation to show him around, knowing he should be escorting Amanda tonight if he was to decide to marry her before her planned wedding in twelve days’ time.

“Just watch, then,” Lord Malmsey said.

And she stopped musing, sucking in a breath as a thousand oil lamps came to life, lit by myriad servants touching matches to their wicks in the same instant. The effect was nothing short of sensational, bathing the gardens in a warm light that must have been visible for miles around.

“Enchanting!” Aunt Frances exclaimed.

Lord Malmsey cocked his head again. “Have
you
never been here at night, either?”

“I’ve never been here at all,” Frances said.

Shy, retiring Aunt Frances had missed out on a lot, Juliana thought as they finished their supper, but that
was about to change. She’d never been happier to see one of her projects prove a success.

“Shall we walk again?” Lord Malmsey asked, rising from the table. “The gardens feel like a different place among the lanterns.”

“A lovely idea.” Frances rose, too, and pulled on her gloves.

Juliana reached for her own but found her lap empty. “Where are my gloves?” She was sure she’d placed them there when she took them off for supper—it was a lifelong habit, after all. She checked the ground on either side of her chair. “I cannot find them.”

“How odd.” Shifting his gaze to Lord Malmsey, James waved a hand toward the beckoning paths. “You two go on ahead. I’ll help Lady Juliana find her gloves, and then we’ll catch up to you.”

As Frances and Lord Malmsey walked off, Juliana leaned to one side and peeked below the table. “I cannot imagine where they might have gone.” She rose and looked under her chair. “They seem to have disappeared.”

“Perhaps they are in my pocket,” James said. “Right beside mine.”

She looked up at him, startled. “How would they get there?”

He shrugged one shoulder, a corner of his mouth turning up in a half smile. “How indeed?”

She laughed. “Give them to me.”

“I think not. I think you will need to get them for yourself.”

She eyed his striped silk waistcoat, his dark tailcoat, his crisp white trousers. She didn’t know which of his pockets he’d hidden her gloves in, but she wasn’t about to slip her hands into his clothing to find out. She laughed again. “James…”

He took her bare hand in his. “Your aunt and Lord Malmsey will get too far ahead if we don’t go after them. Come along.”

The paths seemed gayer now that it was dark, the company enlivened with mirth and good humor. Music drifted from the orchestra through the trees. Seemingly
suspended everywhere, the lamps looked like little illuminated balls glowing every color of the rainbow. Some were arranged in lines or arches, others grouped to represent the starry heavens.

Juliana thought Vauxhall Gardens the most wonderful place she’d ever been. Her heart felt light, and her hand felt warm in James’s. She knew she shouldn’t allow him to hold it, but just then she didn’t care about proprieties. Ahead of them on the path, Aunt Frances leaned close to Lord Malmsey, oblivious to her charge.

When they caught up to the older couple, who had stopped by a tinkling fountain, Juliana pulled her hand free.

“Look!” Frances pointed overhead. “It’s Madame Saqui!”

Wearing an outlandish dress decorated with tinsel, spangles, and plumes, the celebrated tightrope walker seemed to be dancing on air as she ascended a rope attached to a sixty-foot mast. Despite her glittery attire, her appearance was rather masculine. Juliana could see up her dress, and her legs were muscled like a circus strongman’s. But her balance was impeccable, her steps graceful and seemingly timed to the orchestra’s lilting music.

“It looks like a ballet, doesn’t it?” Juliana said.

“A ballet for two,” James replied as the dancer’s husband mounted a second rope beside hers. “I’ve heard they earn a hundred guineas per week.”

She slanted him a teasing smile. “A sum you’d like to see spent on smallpox vaccinations, no doubt.”

He laughed. “Entertaining enchanting ladies is also a worthy cause.”

A curious quiver rippled through her at the thought he might find her enchanting, although she knew quite well he was speaking of the company in general. They watched for a few minutes in breathless silence as the couple dipped and swayed, seemingly unworried they might plunge to their deaths. At the top, Madame Saqui performed an agile turn and saluted her husband as she passed him on her way down. When she reached the bottom, she dipped into a theatrical curtsy and swept up
a little girl, settling her small slippered feet on the tightrope.

“She cannot be more than four years old!” Juliana gasped at the sight of the young miss climbing the rope toward the stars. She covered her face with her hands. “I cannot watch.”

“She’s their daughter.” James slipped an arm around her waist. “Performance is in her blood,” he said, drawing her against himself.

She dropped her hands, glancing to see if her aunt had noticed James’s bold move.

Her chaperone was no longer beside her.

“Aunt Frances?” She looked around. “Where is Aunt Frances?”

“She went off with Lord Malmsey,” James said, the suggestive tone of his voice making her picture her aunt in a very compromising position. “Shall we resume our walk?”

As he drew her down a darkened lane, still holding her close, she was struck again, as she had been at the Egyptian Hall, by how well they fit together. He smelled of starch and soap. He matched his longer gait to her shorter one, and it seemed the night was warmer, the gardens more fragrant and lush. Tall trees towered on both sides, their silhouettes dark against the lanternhazed sky.

“When will you bring Amanda here?” she asked.

“Hmm,” he said noncommittally, turning into a tiny secluded grove.

It had a stone bench and a single lantern, so it wasn’t quite dark. But it was dim, with high hedges all around. She heard a couple walk by, gravel crunching beneath their feet. No one peeked in through the narrow opening.

James released her and walked over to the bench, she assumed to sit down. But he didn’t. Instead, he slid off his tailcoat and draped it over the seat. “Do you think this would be a good spot to bring Lady Amanda?”

“Maybe.” Amanda would surely grow closer to him in this private, hidden location. And he would grow closer to her. They’d become friends, and then they’d
marry and have a child. “I mean, yes,” she decided. “This would be an excellent place to bring Amanda.”

“I thought so.” His long fingers worked at the knot in his cravat, the sight of which seemed to make butterflies flutter in her stomach. “What do you expect I should do with Amanda when we’re here?”

He should kiss her, of course, but Juliana wasn’t about to say that out loud. She didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. She just watched him pull the cravat from around his neck, slowly and steadily, until it came off entirely and dangled from his fingers.

“Well?” His intense dark gaze was fastened on her in that way that made her wonder if he could read her mind. “Have you no suggestions?” He released the cravat, and it fluttered to the bench, a tumbled pile of white froth. “Do you think perhaps I should kiss her?”

He
had
read her mind.

She swallowed hard. “Maybe.”

“I thought so.” He eased open the top button of his shirt. And the second button. “I think we should practice,” he said conversationally.

Her gaze was glued to the little
V
of golden skin where his shirt was unbuttoned. “Practice?”

“Yes, practice.” He raised a wrist and unbuttoned a cuff. “You and me. Before I try it with Amanda.”

“You want to kiss me?” He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“Just for practice. Come here, Juliana.”

His deep, chocolatey voice made another shiver ripple through her. The butterflies fluttered faster. He wanted to kiss her. Just for practice, but still…
James
wanted to kiss her.

She wasn’t supposed to kiss James—she was supposed to kiss the duke. But the duke had made it clear he wouldn’t kiss her until they were married. He was so very, very proper. And Aunt Frances thought a kiss no great sin, and Corinna had told her she should kiss a few frogs so she’d know when she’d met her prince.

Not that James was a frog. He was…well, she didn’t know what he was, precisely. A friend, she supposed. A friend who was rolling up his cuffs, exposing his muscled forearms to the innocent eyes of the last unkissed woman in all of England.

And unbuttoning the buttons that ran down the front of his waistcoat.

Dear heavens, if she didn’t kiss him soon, he’d end up naked in the middle of Vauxhall Gardens.

“Very well,” he said softly as the waistcoat fell open. “If you’re not going to come to me, I will have to come to you.”

And he did. He walked right up to her. She backed up, and he followed. She moved until her back was against a tall, fragrant hedge, and he followed until he was all but against her. Until there was a hairsbreadth between them, until his scent of starch and soap overwhelmed her, until her body tingled and the butterflies threatened to break free.

He was so close she could see golden flecks in his brown eyes. So close she could feel his breath upon her face. So close she found herself straining to get still closer.

“May I kiss you?” he asked, settling his hands on her shoulders.

She couldn’t say yes and she couldn’t say no. But she tilted her chin up, wondering, waiting, her heart pounding and her eyes drifting shut.

It was an invitation, albeit a silent one.

An invitation he accepted.