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Lauren’s next book is…
TEMPTING JULIANA
Book Two of the
Regency Chase Family Series
Lady Juliana Chase wants nothing more than to see everyone around her happy. That's why she takes such pleasure in playing matchmaker. Her latest efforts involve Dr. James Trevor, the Earl of Stafford, and her good friend Amanda, who are absolutely perfect for each other. So why on earth is the handsome physician ignoring Juliana's good intentions and ruining her carefully laid plans?
After losing his wife, James buried himself in his work, opening a clinic to vaccinate London's poor against smallpox. The last thing he wants is to fall for another woman. So when Juliana meddles with his love life, he's surprised to find himself smitten—but not with Amanda. Now he must turn the tables and beat Juliana at her own game, or risk losing the determined beauty who has reawakened his desires and captured his heart...
Read an excerpt…
The Foundling Hospital, London
Saturday, June 8, 1816
LADY JULIANA Chase's family 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 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 twenty-two 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 look out the window.
The painting seemed a complete contrast to the figures outside.
Miss Emily Neville, Juliana's eight-year-old next-door neighbor, stood gazing through the glass beside her. "The girls don't appear to be ill. So why are they in hospital?"
"Hospital is an old word that originally meant 'guest house,'" 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 a slim, olive green snake that rested upon 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 snake might scare them."
"The girls aren't playing. They're exercising. Outdoor exercise is advocated for maximum health." Miss Strickland crossed her arms across her ample bosom. "And you couldn't play with them in any case, young lady, with or without that horrid creature."
"Herman isn't horrid," Emily said, slipping her hand into Juliana's. "He's naught but a common grass snake. Can't you tell by the black bars along his sides and the yellow collar behind his head? He's absolutely harmless, I assure you."
Juliana hid a smile. My, such a vocabulary for a girl of eight. Emily certainly was articulate.
But carrying a snake around was just not done.
Emily was Juliana's latest project, and Juliana was sure—positively sure—that with a bit of patience she could turn the girl into a perfect little lady. A few more outings with Herman ought to convince the child that the creature wasn't welcome in public.
She squeezed Emily's hand and turned 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 in a smile that appeared rather forced. "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 squared her shoulders and 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 gave the artists a chance to cement their social positions through well-publicized acts of charity, but also ensured that their work would be seen by those most wealthy and aristocratic—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 unfortunately Juliana hadn't the option to become a patroness at present. While it was true
