Free Legendary Lover by Susan Johnson

of the salmon sandwiches, and their discussion of the recently appointed poor-law board was in full swing, when Jack arrived on the terrace. Having positioned her chair so the terrace door was in sight, the duchess rose from her chair immediately and waved in welcome.
    Venus turned to see who was arriving, and a warm flush immediately colored her face.
    Jack's descent was arrested midway down the terrace stairs when he saw Peggy's guest and, for the briefest moment, he debated turning around and leaving. Grandchildren's bequests indeed. Now he knew why Peggy's footman had been so insistent, why he wasn't willing to have Jack come to see the duchess that evening.
    Damn Peggy's guile, he irritably thought. He couldn't cut and run, of course, and she knew it. Bloody hell, this was going to be awkward.
    But he was urbane and gracious as he made his bows to the ladies, and after a small hesitation, he sat at Peggy's invitation. He had no intention of refusing the duchess's offer of champagne. He might need several glasses to survive this clumsy, misguided scheme.
    Peggy cheerfully maintained the flow of the conversation, chattering on about their afternoon at the docks, going off in raptures over the sleek, racy Duras vessel being used for transport, extolling the virtue and reward in undertaking a charity hospital, repeatedly refilling Jack's glass as he emptied it.
    Outside the duchess's relentless stream of garrulous-ness, the marquis and Miss Duras found themselves oppressively aware of each other, acutely conscious of all that had passed between them last evening. Assailed by inopportune feelings, traitorous memory, ill-defined longings, they responded vaguely to Peggy's attempts at conversation.
    Venus had the wholesome look of a country maid in her light muslin gown and undone hair, Jack testily thought—fresh and ripe, infinitely tempting—and he cursed his godmother's conniving intent. Who the hell could resist such toothsome allure? He held his glass out for a refill, as if he could drink himself into some oblivion where he'd no longer be susceptible to such tantalizing sensuality.
    Jack smelled of a woman's perfume, Venus crossly thought, as though she had a right to be angry, as though her anger could protect her from her desires. His dark beauty and lean, muscled body, his unquenchable virility irrepressibly lured her while he lounged in his chair, seemingly unaware of his powerful allure. She vowed to resist her unconscionable longing, refusing to yield to his seductive appeal like every woman he'd ever known.
    Molly's shout shattered the increasingly taut unease. "A message for you, my lady!" she cried, waving a sheet of paper from the distant terrace.
    "I can't imagine what's come over Molly," the duchess said in mock indignation. "I thought I'd trained her better than to scream like that. If you'll excuse me for a moment." She came to her feet, waving back at her maid. "Jack, pour Miss Duras more champagne. Her glass is empty. I'll be back in a minute."
    As the duchess crossed the green lawn, the marquis rose to refill Venus's glass. "I take it you weren't aware of Peggy's machinations." Her discomfort had been obvious.
    "Hardly," she curtly replied. "I don't know what she expects to accomplish. Please—" she held up her hand "—I really don't want any more champagne."
    "In that case, I'll drink it all." Bottle in hand, he dropped back into his chair.
    "Uncomfortable, are you?" Venus sardonically murmured, grateful he was as disconcerted as she.
    "God, yes. Peggy brought me here on pretext of business. I should give her a tongue-lashing."

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    "Do you think it would do any good?"
    He found himself laughing. "Hell, no."
    "Please don't stay on my account. I'll tell Peggy not to waste her time and ours in future." She spoke briskly, his laughter reminding her too much of last night. She wanted him to leave and save her from temptation.
    He should have been relieved at her words, but oddly he wasn't. "Maybe I'm not