How the Marquess
was Won

January 2012
ISBN-13: 978-0061885693

SIXTH book in the Pennyroyal Green series!


The Scandal Sheets call him Lord Ice.

Ruthless, cold, precise, Julian Spenser, Marquess Dryden, tolerates only the finest—in clothes, in horseflesh, in mistresses. And now he’s found the perfect bride, the one whose dowry will restore his family’s shattered legacy and bring him peace at last: the exquisite heiress Lisbeth Redmond.

She's not afraid to play with fire...

But one unforgettable encounter with Lisbeth’s paid companion, Phoebe Vale, and the Marquess is undone: this quiet girl with the wicked smile and a wit to match is the first person to see through the icy façade to the fiery man beneath. But their irresistible attraction is a torment as sweet as it is dangerous: for surrendering to their desire could mean losing everything else they ever wanted.

You can pre-order the print versions now at Amazon or Barnes & Noble—the e-book versions will be re ady for pre-order soon!! I'll keep you posted. ;)

Check back for more info in the weeks ahead—meanwhile, sign up for my mailing list to get notified (click Get JAL's newsletter" over there ot the left), join my Facebook Page, follow me on Twitter, or sign up for the HarperCollins Author Tracker to be notified of my upcoming releases!

And be sure to check out the other books in the Pennyroyal Green series (in order):

1) The Perils of Pleasure
2) Like No Other Lover
3) Since the Surrender

4) I Kissed an Earl
5) What I Did for a Duke




Also in the Books section:




You can read an exclusive, steamy little excerpt at The Season blog! AND you can check out the little snippet below...

On the heels of an unexpected, glorious, fairytale evening (barring one painful moment involving a certain Marquess), following a life-changing afternoon, our heroine Phoebe Vale is returning to her rooms in the servant's quarters at the Redmond House. It's past midnight, the stars are shining...and she discovers the fairytale might not be be over yet...

She paused in the courtyard to admire the moon. Just a curved sliver of light, like the door of heaven had been left slightly ajar. She fancied it would be slammed shut after today, and today she'd slipped through. She'd had just a taste. And she'd long ago learned not to hold onto anything too tightly, for the pain when it was wrested away could not be born.

She wanted to remember every detail about this day, for when she lay awake at night, telling herself stories in order to help her sleep in the wilds of Africa.

"A bit like the Sword of Damocles hanging up there, isn't it?"

She didn't jump, possibly because the ratafia had quite blunted the edges of her nerves, and partly because, given the events of the day, she'd half-expected him to appear out of the shadows anyway. In fact, if she'd had a wish, in her heart of hearts, it was that he'd appear out of nowhere and they would be alone again...and here he was.

But she was growing nervous of the cascade of wishes coming true today. In fairy tales, granted wishes generally resulted in grave consequences. A punishment for wanting too much, or wanting the wrong things.

Still, it didn't stop her heart from turning a cartwheel. And then thumping on much more quickly than before he'd spoken.

He'd waited for her. Of that she was certain.

"And here I was thinking it looked rather like the door to heaven just slightly ajar, Lord Dryden. But your observation does give one a bit of insight into you."

He laughed softly. "And yours gives one insight into yours, Miss Vale. It's about escape, isn't it?"

"Mmm. Perhaps. And perhaps you fear the consequences of what you really want."

She heard his breath catch. She'd struck home.

"I won't deny it," he said, finally.

The admission was a gift. He wanted her.

But she couldn't so easily forgive the expression on his face this evening as she'd stepped toward him. Or forget hearing him request a waltz from Lisbeth as she stood there, pawned off upon Jonathan.

Who'd turned out to be a delightful dance partner. But who now looked so like Lyon

"I wondered, Miss Vale…if you'd promised your fourth waltz to anyone."

"There were only three waltzes."

"I'm not certain parliament has yet ruled the number of waltzes allowed during a given evening. Or when they should take place. Doubtless we won't be strung up if we add one more."

No "honor me with's" or "if you would be so kind as to's." No pomp, no ceremony. She was tempted to decline on the basis of that alone.

That, and she was fairly certain she shouldn't touch him again. She could get to needing to touch him. She'd seen what needing things had done to people. And she, quite frankly, didn't want to need anyone ever again.

"No music is playing," she pointed out.

"I'll hum, if you like."

This won him the smile he'd been aching to see.

"You had an opportunity to dance the waltz with me earlier."

"I took pity upon Lisbeth. I felt certain all of yours would be taken eventually."

She snorted.

"And they were taken, weren't they?"

She tipped her head, and he watched her reflect on the evening, and a dreamy smile spread over her face. And she spoke, she was almost breathless.

"They were. It was the most…amazing thing."

He felt her awe as surely as it was his own, this girl from St. Giles. He reveled in her pleasure. "I'm glad," he said softly.

"Glad?" as usual, she was alert to hints of condescension.

"That you got in some waltzing practice before I dance with you. I shouldn't like to be tread upon."

"I see. It was all strategy, on your part, not dancing with me. A viscount asked for the honor of dancing with me." She still sounded amazed. "That was the word he used. Honor."

"Did he, now?" he said softly. "And well he should have."

For a moment they regarded each other in silence. And when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"I should be deeply, humbly grateful, Miss Vale, if you would be so unthinkably generous as to honor me with a waltz. Right now."

She mulled this offer, while the crickets played the opening bars of the waltz.

"Well, before I raise or dash your hopes, Lord Dryden, I best take a look at my dance card…"

With a flourish she held up her hand and examined an invisible card.

He was ridiculously breathless with anticipation awaiting her verdict. She allowed a strategic moment to pass, to punish him, which perhaps he deserved.

"You are in luck, Lord Dryden. My fourth waltz appears to be available," she informed him loftily. "And you may have it."

"This is very good news, indeed. Shall I hum, or shall the crickets be music enough for us?"

She was silent, mulling. "Crickets," she said. She sounded shy again.

"Excellent. For I should feel a fool humming. I cannot carry a tune."

He bowed low as any courtier before any queen.

She curtsied as deeply as she could, grateful her knees didn't crack, aware that she could feel the chill of cobblestone now against the bottom of her slipper. The soles were wearing a bit thin.

And she took his hand. He folded his reverently over it. He settled the other at her waist.

"Shall we?" he said softly.

And he set the two of them in motion. One, two, three….One, two three….One, two three.

Odd how this didn't seem at all absurd, the two of them sailing in stately, broad circles in a deserted courtyard. Their heartbeats, the crickets, the rhythm of their breathing, their feet landing on the cobblestones comprised their orchestra. Keeping time was somehow effortless.

"You've some experience, now, Miss Vale, and some comparison. Come now, tell me the truth. How is my dancing? Keeping in mind that the debacle you witnessed tonight was entirely an anomaly and entirely your fault. And you laughed! I was wounded. Sorely wounded."

"It wasn't entirely my fault. How did you know I was laughing?"

"Because I could hear it."

Oh, dear. "Tell me it wasn't funny and I shall apologize. Tell me you are injured and I shall feel terrible remorse. It's just…if you were me, and watching it all…and Lisbeth's eyes were so very round…"

"Shhh. Don't laugh again. Very well. It was funny. The only thing injured was my pride. So how do you find my dancing now?"

"Mmm…. Well, while you dance very well…"

He smiled. A glittering flash in the shadowy dark, an echo of the moon. "I sense a qualification pending."

"…I fear it's not so well as Trous—as Sir D'andre,"

"Impossible," He said firmly.

"I feel I must be truthful above all things, Lord Dryden, and Sir D'Andre has a certain indescribable flair. Perhaps it is in the way he turns in the dance…" she mused, as they swept in a circle. "…or the way he glides…perhaps it's the fit of his trousers…"

"You noticed them, too?"

"…or perhaps it is related to velocity…"

"Ah, but what I lack in velocity I can make up for in…elevation." He lifted her off her feet entirely, and she stifled a little burst of laughter.

She weighed very little; he felt effortlessly strong.

The realizations settled in for the two of them a moment later, and they were both moved in ways they couldn't explain. Resulting in a silence.

Dryden didn't think he'd ever done anything quite so whimsical before in his life. He'd never wanted to.

They were moving in sedate pattern now. Slowing, somehow, like a watch winding down. He looked down into her eyes. Clear as pools. Which he knew was certainly a cliché, but it fit, and he liked it. She was watching him with an expression he could not decipher, but the intensity of it gave him the sense she was memorizing him.

One, two, three. One, two, three

Somewhere a nightingale, unable to contain itself any further, burst into song.

"Tell me, Miss Vale. How often do you do exactly what you want to do just because you want to do it?"

One, two, three. One, two, three.

It was twice around the courtyard before she responded. "I can think of one time in particular." She sounded just a bit breathless.

He'd hoped she'd say something just like it. Because he knew his next line. "Did it happen this afternoon?" Conversational, his voice. And silky.

The tempo continued to slow and slow. Twice more around the courtyard before she answered.

"It might have done," she allowed. Whispering now.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Closer and closer they drew to each other. Slower and slower. As though some invisible thread was inexorably spooling them together with every rotation of the dance.

"What do you want to do now, Miss Vale?"

The question was both a caress and a demand.

He could feel tension humming in her body where his hand rested against her waist. He breathed in, because he greedy to discover things about her. Anything. This time he discovered she smelled of soap and sweetness, of the lavender no doubt her dress lived in, packed in trunk in tissue, when she wasn't waltzing in the moonlight.

"It isn't fair, you know, Lord Dryden, to ask such questions. I haven't the words for it. You shouldn't make me say it."

The space between them was now entirely gone as if it had never been. His cheek was against hers now. Nothing had ever felt so natural. His breath, even and warm, washed over her throat. She closed her eyes. Her senses were drunk on brandy and smoke and the crisp scent of linen, on the feel of a cool masculine cheek and the rasp of his whiskers over the vulnerable skin of her own.

She was the one who stopped moving altogether first.

He still gripped her hand. His hand still rested at her waist. The waltz could begin again at any time. They held each other, just like that. Only breathing now. In and out. In and out. They breathed in time with each other the

"Aren't you curious about what I would like to do?"

"You told me earlier today that you always know what you're going to do."

"I generally do," he agreed on a whisper. "And this moment is no exception. For example, this…." And now his breath was in her ear. "…is what I would like to do now."

The breathed words alone were enough to stand the short hairs on the back of her neck, send gooseflesh raining over her arms. But then he turned the last word into a whisper before he dipped his tongue into her ear.

And pressed a hot, open kiss in that hidden, silky place beneath it...



{end of excerpt}

You can preorder now if the spirit moves you!









Praise for Julie Anne Long's work:

"You will LOVE the Pennyroyal Green series."
Julia Quinn, #1 NYT Bestselling Author

"Julie Anne Long reinvents the historical romance for modern readers, delivering intense, passionate characters and high adventure. Her writing glows."
Amanda Quick, NYT Bestselling Author

"A fresh voice that stands out in a chorus of Regency historicals, Julie Anne Long entrances with deftly woven humor, strong and believable characters, and a genuinely rich and emotional resolutions. Delicious and delightful!"
Karen Hawkins, NYT Bestselling Author



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So what's this Pennyroyal Green series about?

The Pennyroyal Green series takes us through the lives, passions, adventures and misadventures of the denizens of Pennyroyal Green, Sussex, England, a town anchored by the wealthy Eversea and Redmond families —whose relations are civil on the surface, but seethe beneath with ancient secrets and grudges and —naturally — attractions. :) We'll follow these folks wherever their passions take them —whether it's London, the gallows, a ballroom, a bedroom, the high seas, or the Sussex downs. I have major plans for these people. :) The stories are loosely connected and characters recur, but not in every book. A number of Pennyroyal Green characters will get their own stories—not just Everseas and Redmonds—and each story can be read independently of each other. Collect 'em all! LOL. The first book in the series is The Perils of Pleasure. You can find alittle background on the legend of the town and the origins of the feud between the Everseas and Redmonds in the prologue of POP, too. :)

Here's a quick Pennyroyal Green series "cast of characters." When characters are featured prominently in a specific book, I'll link to the book or make a note of it. This list will grow over time, may even sprout more branches and family names, and I'll expound a little more on each character in this space as we get to know each of them a little better throughout the series.

The Everseas
The Redmonds
Jacob Eversea—Patriarch   Isaiah Redmond—Patriarch
Isolde Eversea—Matriarch   Fanchette Redmond—Matriarch
Marcus Eversea—oldest son (POP)   Lyon Redmond—oldest son

Colin Eversea (Madeleine Greenway)

  Miles Redmond (Cynthia Brightly)
Ian Eversea   Violet Redmond (and Captain Flint, The Earl of Ardmay)
Chase Eversea   Jonathon Redmond
Olivia Eversea   Lisbeth Redmond (cousin)
Genevieve Eversea   Roland Tarbell (cousin and deceased; see POP)
Other Pennyroyal Green Denizens:
Ned Hawthorne—owner and proprietor of the Pig & Thistle, ancient pub   Louisa Porter
Polly Hawthorne—Ned Hawthorne's daughter    
Martin Culpepper    
Frances Cooke    
Miss Marietta Endicott— headmistress of Miss Endicott's Academy for Young Women (referred to as the School for Recalcitrant girls by the townspeople)    
Other Series Characters
Mr. McBride, apothecary we first meet him in To Love a Thief, which isn't a Pennyroyal Green book)    
Mr. Croker, scalliwag    
Eleanor, Countess Malmsey    
Harry the Footman    
Dr. William August    
Horace Peele (and Snap the dog)    
Madame Marceau, Modiste (we first net her in TO LOVE A THIEF, which isn't a Pennyroyal Green book; she also had a cameo in THE SECRET TO SEDUCTION)    
Pennyroyal Green Series Places
The Pig & Thistle, pub   The Mercury Club (in London)
Miss Marietta Endicott's Academy for Girls (The School for Recalcitrant Girls)   The Velvet Glove (in London)
The Church    
The Gypsy encampment