Authors: Unknown
As James was leaving, Cornelia walked into Stafford House. “How did your day go, dear?”
“Very well.” Pausing in the entrance hall, he shifted the picnic basket he was carrying. “I wasn’t shorthanded today, so I was able to stop by Gillow’s to see the bedroom furniture you and your sisters picked out. It looks fine.”
“Good. I chose the fabrics this morning, and I have a painter coming by later this week. This is all coming together very quickly.”
“Excellent,” he told her. “I truly appreciate your help. Did your sisters enjoy today’s sewing party?”
“Very much. They’re looking forward to another one tomorrow.” She reached up to smooth his hair, making him feel about six years old again. “I was surprised to learn this afternoon that you’re going to the Physic Garden rather than Almack’s.”
He shrugged. “Lady Juliana and Lady Amanda said they’d prefer to visit the garden.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with your lovely young ladies.”
“They’re not my ladies, Mother.” He hoped Juliana was getting closer to becoming his lady—her reactions at the Panorama had been encouraging—but she wasn’t his lady yet.
“Are you going to marry one of them?”
He leveled his gaze on her. “Are you going to marry Lord Cavanaugh?”
She blinked. “I’m not prepared to say. At the moment I’m just enjoying his company.”
“Exactly.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Enjoy Almack’s, will you?”
He whistled as he went out the door, whistled as his carriage made its way to Berkeley Square. Things were looking up. He might have just managed to get his mother off his back, and in any case, in mere minutes he’d be kissing Juliana.
He stopped whistling out loud when his guests joined him in the carriage, of course, but he was still whistling in his head. And toying with the deck of playing cards he’d slipped into his pocket. It was almost six o’clock by the time they reached Chelsea and alighted from the carriage on Swan Walk.
“Good evening,” he said to the guard at the garden’s entrance.
“Good evening, Lord Stafford.” The man swung open the gate set into the old redbrick wall. “Sunset is at quarter to nine.”
“The garden closes at sunset,” James told his party. “Is Wheeler here?” he asked the guard.
“Not tonight. He left at four.”
“Oh, that’s a pity,” James said, although it wasn’t a pity at all. In fact, it was exactly what he was hoping to hear.
“Who is Wheeler?” Juliana asked as they walked in.
“Thomas Wheeler is the Physic Garden’s Demonstrator. He’s hired to explain the uses of the medicinal plants to visitors.” He led them along a tree-lined path to the center of the garden. “Shall I give a tour, or would you prefer to dine first?”
“I’m famished,” Castleton said. “We can look at plants later.”
James suspected the man didn’t want to look at plants at all, which suited his plans just fine. He chose a grassy spot by the rockery and laid out a large blanket before opening the basket his servants had prepared. The duke and Lady Amanda hung back while James opened a bot
tle of wine and Juliana and her aunt unpacked cold chicken, bread, and cheese.
“I don’t sit on the ground,” Castleton said stuffily, taking his supper to a nearby bench.
What an ass, James thought for the umpteenth time.
Lady Amanda didn’t seem to agree with his assessment, however. In fact, she appeared to breathe a sigh of relief. “Neither do I,” she said and joined the ass.
“You should sit by her,” Juliana whispered.
“There’s no more room on the bench,” James whispered back. Actually, there
would
have been room on the bench if the two of them weren’t sitting primly spaced apart from each other. But it was just as well, since he had no intention of sitting with Lady Amanda anyway.
“No one else seems to be here,” Lady Frances observed, happily settling close by Lord Malmsey on the blanket. “This place is so peaceful and enchanting.”
Juliana pulled off her gloves as she sat down by them. “Corinna would love to come here and paint.”
“I can obtain a ticket for her entrance,” James said. He took glasses of wine to the ass and his companion, then lowered himself to the ground by Juliana.
“What is the purpose of the garden?” Lord Malmsey asked.
James swallowed a bite of bread. “Doctors and apothecaries can visit to obtain cuttings of medicinal plants. But mostly it is used for educational and training purposes. Hundreds of medical and apothecary students visit every year as part of their studies.”
Juliana waved a chicken leg toward a white alabaster statue of a man holding a scroll, dressed in a fancy robe and a full, old-fashioned wig. “Who is that?”
“Dr. Hans Sloane, a former president of the Royal College of Physicians. In the late sixteen hundreds, he visited Jamaica and brought back a cinchona tree, having learned that the bark could be used to make quinine to treat malaria. Later, when the Society of Apothecaries was at risk of losing the garden, he bought the land and leased it back to them for only five pounds a year—they still pay the same price now.”
“What an unusual rock garden,” Lady Frances said,
squinting toward it since she wasn’t wearing her spectacles.
“The oldest in all of England, or so I’ve been told. It was built to provide a habitat for foreign plants that grow best in rocky soil. The white stones are from the Tower of London, the black from a volcano in Iceland, and that giant-clam shell is said to have been brought to England by Captain Cook.”
“You seem to know everything,” Juliana said, smiling over the rim of her wineglass. “We don’t need a Demonstrator, do we, Amanda?” She turned toward the bench. “Amanda?”
Amanda was gone. As was Castleton, the ass.
“Where did they go?” Juliana asked.
“I don’t know,” Lady Frances mused. She turned to Lord Malmsey. “Theodore, would you help me look for them?”
“With pleasure, my dear.” Belying their age, the two rose agilely to their feet, and Lord Malmsey tucked Lady Frances’s hand in the crook of his arm. “Shall we, my love?”
Juliana’s jaw dropped open as she watched the older couple walk off. “I cannot believe it,” she muttered when they were out of earshot.
James drained the rest of his wine and started putting the remains of their dinner back in the basket. “You cannot believe what?”
She looked up at him, a little frown between her brows. “I cannot believe Aunt Frances asked Lord Malmsey to go off alone with her. She’s always been so shy. And I cannot believe everyone left again.”
Her eyes looked greenish, which was no surprise. After many hours of observation and analysis, James had finally puzzled out the mystery of Juliana’s changeable irises: They were more blue when she was happy or aroused, more green when she was worried or angry. Right now he guessed she was rather distressed, which put their hue in the latter range.
The distress was a good sign. It wouldn’t be long now before she figured out she’d be much happier with him than with Castleton. If his plans for this evening were
realized, her eyes would be blue before he was finished. Deep, deep blue.
“Everyone will be back soon,” he said. “Lady Frances and Lord Malmsey will find the others.”
“They aren’t looking for them. They’re off somewhere kissing.”
“Really?” he said, reaching a hand to help her rise. “I guess we should go look for Castleton and Lady Amanda ourselves, then.”
“Yes, we should,” she said. “You’re supposed to be with Lady Amanda.”
Having seen where her friend and the ass had gone, James led Juliana along a path in the opposite direction, which, happily, was the direction he wanted to take her. Trees lined both sides of the meandering gravel walkway, their leaves shimmering and fluttering overhead. The sun was dropping toward the horizon, making the walled garden shady and romantic.
The ambience couldn’t have been better.
“I don’t see them,” Juliana said after they wandered a few minutes in companionable silence. “I cannot imagine where they might have disappeared to.”
“Me, neither,” James said, taking her hand. She’d left her gloves on the blanket, and her fingers felt warm in his, especially compared to the air. Juliana was wearing a rather thin dress, and with the sun setting, it was getting a bit chilly. “Maybe they’re in this greenhouse,” he suggested, leading her off the path. “They might have gone in there to warm up.”
“This greenhouse
is
warm,” she said when they stepped inside. Due to the abundance of glass, it was almost as light inside as out. “It feels wonderful in here.”
“I understand this was the first heated greenhouse in all of England,” he told her, “and maybe the first in the whole world.” He coaxed her through all the plants toward the back wall. “Hans Sloane wrote about this greenhouse back in 1684, marveling about the cleverness of putting ovens under the floor.” Stopping before a door marked
PRIVATE
, he reached for the knob.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I don’t think we’re supposed to go in there.”
“Maybe Castleton is in there with Lady Amanda.”
“I think not.” Still holding his hand, she pulled him away from the door. “Amanda would
never
go into a room alone with him. She’s
much
too reserved for that.”
“She was in a room alone with me,” he reminded her. “Lord Billingsgate’s library. She even tried to kiss me.”
Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. “That’s because she wants to marry you.”
Thinking it was too bad Lady Amanda didn’t want to marry the ass instead, he reached again for the knob. “Maybe your aunt and Lord Malmsey are in there,” he suggested, “kissing.”
The pink deepened. Her eyes were back to blue-green. She pulled on his hand again. “I don’t think—” she started, and then she gave a little shriek when he opened the door.
Smiling, he stepped in. “They’re not in here. Come in and see, sw—”
Damn. He’d almost called her “sweetheart” again.
Luckily, she was so concerned about trespassing, she didn’t notice. She peeked her head in, then breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re not supposed to be in here, James. The door is marked private.”
“It’s Thomas Wheeler’s office,” he said with a shrug. “The Demonstrator who went home earlier. He’s a friend; he wouldn’t mind.” He tugged on her hand. “Come in, Juliana.”
Reluctantly, she came inside. “It
is
private.”
It was a tiny cubby, with a small desk against the inside wall and a small round wooden table with two chairs in the center. “The table is for demonstrations,” he explained. “Private demonstrations.” The exterior wall was glass, of course, it being part of the greenhouse. But trees grew so closely all around that no one could possibly see in, and plenty of light filtered in through the leaves and the glass ceiling overhead.
He shut the door, shutting them off from the world.
She whirled to face him, dropping his hand. “What are you doing, James?”
He reached into his pocket and slipped out the deck of cards. “Since we can’t seem to find our companions, I remembered I wanted you to teach me to play casino,”
he said casually. “It’s cold out there and warm in here, so I thought it might be nice to sit a while and play cards.”
She eyed him warily, her gaze still blue-green. “Maybe for a minute.”
“Excellent.” He sat and waved her toward the second chair. After she sat, he slid his chair up against hers.
Taking the cards, she frowned. “You’re supposed to sit across from me.”
“I will after I learn. Right now I need to see your cards.”
“Very well.” When she shuffled the cards, he could practically feel the vibrations. They were that close. She dealt out four cards to each of them and four more faceup on the table, then put the rest aside. “Pick up your hand,” she instructed, “and see if any of your cards match the ones on the table.” Then she proceeded to explain all the rules, none of which he bothered listening to, since he already knew how to play casino.
As she talked and moved the cards around, he noticed her hair shining in the waning sunlight and thought about how much he wanted to see it slip from its pins. He leaned even closer to smell it, inhaling sunshine and flowers. He rubbed his shoulder against her arm, watching her eyes turn a little bluer. He pressed his thigh up against her thin skirts.
“Are you listening, James? Did you get all of that?”
“Of course.” It was a very simple game, really. At least for him. He and his brother had kept a running score for years, and he’d always stayed miles ahead. “I think I’m ready to play now.”
“All right.” She gathered the cards and started reshuffling them. “You can move to the other side of the table.”
“I’d rather stay here for the first couple of hands. In case I need your help. By the way, what shall we wager?”
“Wager? We don’t need to wager.”
“I never play games without a wager. A wager makes it much more interesting and fun.”
“Is that so?” She stopped shuffling and slanted him a sideways glance. “I heard about how Griffin lost thirty
guineas to you last month playing chess. I have no money.”
“We’ll wager something else, then,” he said blithely.
“Like what?” She turned to him, looking wary again. But her eyes weren’t turning green. They were staying rather blue. Amused, he ran a finger down her arm and watched them get even bluer.
“How about buttons?” he suggested.
“Buttons? We didn’t bring buttons.”
“We have buttons on our clothes. When one of us loses, he or she can unbutton a button.”
Juliana was scandalized. Absolutely, positively scandalized. She’d never heard of wagering buttons. Amanda would faint dead away if he ever suggested wagering buttons with her. The mere idea seemed wicked and immoral and sinful and…tempting.
Dear heavens, it was tempting. It would teach James a lesson, that was for certain. After all, he was sure to lose, given that he didn’t even know how to play the game and he’d been daydreaming while she’d explained it to him. Daydreaming and touching her, making her stumble over her words. If she agreed, he would lose, and then he’d know not to wager buttons with Amanda. It was very, very tempting to say yes.
She
did
enjoy seeing James with his buttons unbuttoned. And since she was certain to win, she wouldn’t have to unbutton any of her own. The whole thing could turn out to be rather pleasurable and amusing. And James would learn a lesson.
“All right,” she said, “we’ll wager buttons.”
James looked surprised, but very pleased. After that, everything started happening rather quickly. His fingers went immediately to his neckcloth, working the knot.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Exposing my buttons. Go ahead and deal.” He all
but ripped off his tailcoat and dropped it to the floor. “Deal, Juliana.”
She dealt. They picked up their cards. James spread his and smiled. “I go first—is that right?” She nodded, and he plucked a king from his hand and used it to claim the king on the table. “Aha,” he said. “You have to unbutton a button.”
“You haven’t won yet!” she protested. “That was just a single trick.” Anyone could win a trick; the real skill was winning the whole game. “Were you not listening, James? We have to play until all the cards are gone, and then we add up the points, and whoever has the most points wins.
Then
somebody unbuttons a button.” She’d almost said
then you unbutton a button
, but she’d stopped herself in time. Although she was going to win, there was no reason to sound smug about it.
“Oh, no,” he said. “We don’t have time for that. We’re playing for only a few minutes, remember? It’s getting dark, and we’ll have to leave. We’re wagering a button for each trick.”
“We are not! We’re wagering a button for each game.”
“We don’t have time to play more than one game. A Chase promise is never broken, remember? You promised you’d wager buttons, Juliana. Unbutton a button.”
“Honestly, this is ridiculous.” She’d never
promised
she’d wager buttons. Not exactly. But she didn’t want to argue or look petulant, so she reached behind her back and unbuttoned a button, knowing James wouldn’t win many more tricks. “There. Are you happy now? It’s my turn.” She took an eight out of her hand and claimed a seven and an ace with it, smiling because an ace was worth an extra point. “I took a trick,” she said. “Unbutton.”
James didn’t seem at all reluctant to unbutton the top button of his shirt. He pulled a ten from his hand and took the ten of diamonds, which was worth
two
extra points. “I think you should unbutton two buttons,” he said, grinning.
“I think not,” she said, amazed that he’d remembered the value of that card when from all she could tell he hadn’t even listened to her instructions. “When I took
the ace, you unbuttoned only one button, same as I did when you took the first trick, which had no extra points. Each trick is worth only one button, no matter how many points it contains.”
“Wrong,” he said, flicking open another of his buttons. “There, now I’ve unbuttoned two buttons for your extra-point trick. And you owe me
three
buttons for my trick with the ten of diamonds.”
“I cannot reach that many of my buttons,” she said petulantly, even though she hadn’t wanted to sound petulant.
He smiled, a very smug smile. “You poor thing. I’ll unbutton them for you.” And he reached behind her back and unbuttoned three buttons.
“Really, James, this is very childish.” Since there were no cards left on the table, she plucked one from her hand and set it down faceup without even looking at it. Which was a mistake, because it turned out to be the two of spades, which was also worth an extra point.
James wasted no time taking it with the two of hearts. “Two buttons,” he said with a grin.
“How did you remember the two of spades was worth an extra point?” she said slowly, and that’s when she realized the truth. She turned to him, outraged. “You already knew how to play casino, didn’t you?”
His grin widened as he unbuttoned two more of her buttons. “I never said I didn’t.”
Her dress was all unbuttoned now. “You asked me to teach you!”
“Exactly. But I never said I didn’t know how to play.” His eyes gleaming, he watched her draw another card from her hand. “Too bad there’s nothing on the table to match with that,” he drawled as she tossed it down. “I don’t have to unbutton any more buttons. On the other hand…” His last card matched that one, and he used it to claim it. “You owe me another button.”
“You tricked me,” she said. “After you got all mad at me for tricking you.”
“Come, Juliana. This is a game. It is not at all the same as trying to trick someone into marriage.”
He was right about that. Drat. Right enough to make her feel guilty. Right enough to make her drop
that
argu
ment like a hot poker. She set down her last card, grabbed the deck, and dealt them each four more cards. “I don’t have any more buttons.”
“Hmm.” He set down a six. “Then I think you owe me a kiss instead.”
“I do not.” Drat, none of her new cards matched anything on the table. She blindly chose one and tossed it down. “It’s your turn.”
“An ace,” he mused, “imagine that.” He swept both it and the six up with a seven. “Two more points,” he said with another smile. “Added to the button you haven’t unbuttoned yet, that makes three.”
“I have no more buttons,” she reminded him. “And I’m not kissing you. What are you going to do,” she added dryly, “open up my dress a little more by ripping it?”
“What an interesting idea,” he said slowly. “I should have thought of that myself. But no, I don’t think I’ll rip it. I think your aunt might notice that.” And then his whole demeanor changed. His smile disappeared as he set his cards facedown on the table and then reached out and drew her loosened dress down her shoulders, leaving her breasts covered by only her filmy chemise. “You owe me three kisses, Juliana,” he said softly, gazing at them in a most arousing way.
Her skin prickled, and her nipples puckered, even though it was very warm in the greenhouse. “I do not.”
“I think you do.” He didn’t sound smug now; he sounded raspy and seductive instead. His voice was making her lose her head. He skimmed his fingers along her face and down her neck almost to her cleavage, making her shiver. “I think you do, Juliana,” he said in that low, chocolatey tone. “I think you owe me three kisses.”
Dear heavens, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to kick herself for wanting him to kiss her, but she wanted him to kiss her nonetheless. Suddenly all she could think of was yesterday’s kisses under the stairs, and she wanted him to kiss her in the worst way.
And touch her breasts, like he had yesterday, too. She wanted him to touch her in the worst way. With his hands and his mouth, like he’d done yesterday, only it
had happened so quickly she’d hardly had a chance to enjoy it.
And she wanted to touch
him
. She wanted to touch him in the worst way. Despite herself, despite how he’d tricked her into it, she leaned closer and raised a hand to the little
V
of skin where he’d opened his measly two buttons.
A faint smile curving his lips, he moved closer still. Until she could feel his breath on her mouth where she wanted his kiss. “May I kiss you now?” he asked.
Why was he asking? Why didn’t he just go ahead and kiss her? He’d done the same thing at Vauxhall Gardens and in the Panorama, asking her permission, making her agree.
She wished he’d just kiss her instead of asking, because she knew she should say no, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted James, and she wanted to kiss him, and she wanted to kick herself for being too weak to say no.
“May I?” he pressed. He was so close, there hardly seemed to be space to breathe between them. “May I kiss you now? Please let me kiss you, Juliana. I want to kiss you in the worst way.”
In the worst way, just like she wanted. “Yes,” she breathed. God help her, she said, “Yes, please kiss me.”
And he did. His mouth crossed that last little space and settled on hers, and he proceeded to kiss her senseless. Positively senseless. The cards fluttered from her hand to the floor. Her senses began swirling, whirling, as she parted her lips and invited him in. His tongue swept her mouth, and she ached, positively ached, in her throat and her heart and, most curiously, in a place between her legs.
Still kissing her, he managed to maneuver her sideways onto his lap. She sighed and leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his neck, kissing him, kissing him. “I want to kiss you here,” he whispered, trailing little kisses down her throat on his way to her cleavage. “I want to kiss you here, in the worst way.” Loving it, loving
him
, she tilted her head back to give him better access. And then his mouth was on a breast like she’d
wanted, first kissing her through her chemise and then under it. He opened his mouth and drew in the crest, and dear heavens, it felt marvelous. Like a wanton, she arched her back, offering her breasts, offering herself, hoping he’d keep kissing them and do even more.
What she meant by
more
, she wasn’t sure, but that curious ache between her legs was growing stronger. Stronger and hotter, more insistent. Dear heavens, she loved him. She knew she couldn’t, knew she shouldn’t, but she loved him nonetheless. And when he started caressing her, stroking her waist, her hips, her thighs, God knew she loved that, too.
And then his hand was underneath her dress, and he was stroking her thighs some more. Kissing her breasts and stroking her thighs, making her head swim. Making her heart pound and her breath come in little gasps. He abandoned her breast to recapture her lips, and her senses were spinning out of control. He was kissing her, stroking her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, and that curious ache between her legs was growing insistent to the point of being unbearable.
And then his hand skimmed the curls that guarded that ache, lightly, lightly, and he broke the kiss. “Can I touch you here, Juliana? Can I touch you here?”
Dear heavens, why was he asking? She was gasping so quickly she could barely breathe, let alone talk. The ache was becoming so exquisite it seemed to be robbing her of speech. She managed to nod, and he captured her mouth again, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance while his fingers danced below. Parting her thighs and finally, finally touching her where she ached. A gentle slide of his fingers, just once, because once was all it took. He found a spot so sweet it made the breath catch in her throat, and she tumbled over a precipice, swirling, whirling, falling into pleasure fiercer than she’d ever known.
He kissed her and kissed her while she calmed, and then he kissed her again, and her head started to clear.
Dear heavens, what had she done? What had she allowed him to do? He was supposed to marry Amanda. He
had
to marry Amanda, or Aunt Frances would be
devastated. He’d touched her in a place he should touch only Amanda, and even that only after they were married. And she’d not only
let
him touch her—she’d all but asked. Or rather, he’d asked her, but she hadn’t hesitated to allow it. She’d nodded and kissed him, all but begging him to touch her where no man had touched her before.
She was appalled at herself. Absolutely, positively appalled. She’d wanted him to kiss her in the worst way, and she’d wanted him to touch her in the worst way, and it really
had
been the worst way.
He shifted her on his lap. “Are you all right, Juliana?” He lifted her chin, meeting her gaze. “Your eyes are blue,” he whispered, sounding pleased. “Deep, deep blue.”
She didn’t want him pleased with her. He needed to be pleased with Amanda. “Obviously it’s getting too dark for you to see,” she snapped. “My eyes are hazel.”
He laughed, a low, satisfied laugh, and then he kissed her again. And she let him, which made her feel better and worse all at the same time.
“It is getting dark,” he finally admitted, sounding much too regretful. “We need to go find the others before the garden’s gates are locked.”
She slid off his lap, and he raised her chemise and bodice with gentle fingers, and then he turned her around and buttoned her dress. And tucked in the dratted, too-straight hair that had slipped from its pins. And buttoned his two buttons and shrugged into his tailcoat and knotted his neckcloth in place, haphazardly as usual. And she reached to straighten it, unable to help herself, even though she knew she shouldn’t. And she let him kiss her again, a little sweet kiss that doubtless meant nothing to him but meant much too much to her.
She had to remember he would never love her. He was only kissing and touching her because they were friends and he wanted a child. He needed to become friends with Amanda instead.
She couldn’t let him kiss her again after this. Or touch her again. Ever.
He gathered the cards from the table and the floor
and slipped the deck back into his pocket, and then they left the greenhouse and went back to the middle of the garden where everyone else was waiting.
Aunt Frances had obviously been kissing Lord Malmsey; in the dim light of the setting sun, they both looked happy and flushed. Aunt Frances had finished packing up the basket, and Lord Malmsey had folded the blanket. He was holding it over his arm.
Naturally, the duke and Amanda had done nothing. They were much too aristocratic to do the work of servants. And of course they hadn’t kissed. Neither of them was flushed. No doubt Amanda had gone off with the duke purposely, specifically to avoid being kissed by James.
So Juliana had been kissed instead. And touched instead. And she very much feared she was flushed. She was appalled at herself.