Legendary Lover (32 page)

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turn
me down. Unlike society misses motivated solely by the search for a husband, Venus has a full and active life."

The duchess's eyes sparkled. "I'll lay you a small wager on her answer."

"You'd bet on anything, wouldn't you?"

"Only on sure things.
Let me give you a wedding reception once you're back in London."

"She hasn't accepted yet."

"Darling boy, after all your years of charming women, surely when it really matters, you can put all that practice to good use."

His smile reflected a genuine pleasure. "When you put it that way, I'll have to see what I can do."

"There now.
It's finally settled. Your captain expects you tomorrow afternoon. May we eat now? I'm famished. The food Molly brought along for our train ride was inadequate, and the smoke and noise are always dreadful for one's digestion, not to mention the terrible delays between London and Oxford that always annoy me. Did I tell you about the time Molly and I were put on the wrong train at—
"

Calling his staff back, Jack ordered dinner be served, and between bites and courses he was regaled with the failures and delinquencies of the British rail system.

The Duchess of Groveland, her mission accomplished,' was back in form.

Chapter 20
—
cxso
—

VJy'HE
   
MARQUIS
   
DOCKED
   
IN
   
TROUVILLE
   
AT

eight
. The choppy seas had caused some delay, but he found lodgings quickly and after a rapid bath and change of clothing, he walked down the promenade to the
Comtesse
de
Casse's
home. He remembered her from a Mardi
Gras
party last year; she was a young woman of affability and charm, like so many French hostesses.

An engagement ring rested in his coat pocket, purchased in London on his way through to Dover, and he'd silently rehearsed a number of different proposals during his journey. But his heart was beating wildly— whether from fear of rejection or from fear of acceptance, he wasn't quite sure. Despite the seeming logic of Peggy's arguments at
Castlereagh
yesterday, this was suddenly very real. He was taking that final irrevocable step.

And if Venus said yes, he would be shackled for life.

The hackneyed phrase brought him to a standstill on the promenade, the flow of strollers passing around him while he gazed out to sea as if looking for an answer in the rolling waves. But no mythic creature rose from the water with words of wisdom, and his ingrained fear slowly gave way to reason. The weeks without Venus

iSj

had
been cheerless. He was here because his happiness had disappeared the day she left, and he wanted her back.

When he arrived at the
comtesse's
fanciful baroque mansion, he was momentarily astonished at the sizable dinner party in progress. Society was generally more informal at the shore, entertainments featuring casualness over protocol. But apparently, some Russian ambassador was the guest of honor, he was informed by the
comtesse's
butler, and formal ceremony was required, along with two hundred guests.

He had a message sent in with a servant, but instead of Venus appearing, the
comtesse
glided from the dining room with swaying skirts and her arms opened wide. After wrapping him in a fragrant embrace, she invited him to join them. "Venus is still dressing, but she'll be down shortly," the
comtesse
added. "What a pleasant surprise for her."

"I'd prefer talking to Venus first, if you don't mind."

"Heavens, no.
The ambassador is still offering toasts—you know the Russians and their drinking. Dinner won't be served for some time yet. But do join us."

His answer was polite but evasive, the charming phrases he uttered so familiar after years of avoiding dinner parties that they rolled off his tongue with ease.

"I don't intend to let you slip away so easily, Lord
Redvers
," the
comtesse
observed, recognizing evasion when she heard it. "I'm thinking we might see Venus smile again now that you're here. I understand you're to
blarrie
for her blue mood." She playfully tapped his cheek with her fan.
"Shame on you."

282

"Then I must apologize to her, if you'll tell me where she is."

"Now, now, Lord
Redvers
.
She's still dressing."

"I don't care."

"You'll barge in?" Her voice was teasing.

"I promise to knock first. Now, if you'll be kind enough to indicate her room, it will save me the trouble of opening every door upstairs."

"My goodness, darling, you
are
determined." She smiled a knowing smile. Before her stood a man whose heart was captured. "She's in the north rooms, facing the sea. Good luck, my lord."

He'd begun to walk away the moment she'd given him the directions, and he glanced back at her last words.

"Remember to tell her how much you love her before you ask. Women adore a devoted lover."

He smiled. "Is it so obvious?"

"Quite, Lord
Redvers
.
Do come down later and we'll help you celebrate."

dr

SENSE
 
OF
  
SITUATION
  
WAS
  
ALL-POWERFUL
 
AS

he
climbed the stairs and turned down the corridor. Did every man feel this agitation before proposing—caught in limbo between hope and fear? Sure and yet unsure when actually contemplating a future beyond tomorrow? He inhaled deeply, forcibly suppressed his indecision, reminded himself that genuine, true feeling was at the heart of his journey, and flexing his fingers as though readying himself for combat, strode forward.

283

<3
?XOW
  
COULD
  
SHE
  
POSSIBLY
  
ENDURE
  
ANOTHER

dinner
party? Venus thought. How could she smile for an entire evening and pretend to be listening to conversations when she didn't care what anyone had to say? How many endless luncheons and dinners and dances had she attended in the days of her sojourn in
Trouville
without feeling any pleasure whatsoever? Why couldn't she feel the same exhilaration as others did in the endless round of summer activities—tennis, croquet, sailing, teas, and musicales?

This evening, she'd shamelessly lied, pleading a lame horse to explain her tardy arrival at
Felicie's
dinner party—in truth, she'd been desperately wishing she could stay away forever. She'd lingered on the dunes until late, her mount grazing on the sea grasses while she'd looked across the Channel and wondered what Jack was doing. Struggling with jealousy and longing, she tried not to think of his return to his former way of life, or of the women who were assuaging his desires. She attempted instead to focus on the positive events in her life, the charity work that had always given meaning and purpose to her life. But her mind would treacherously return to thoughts of Jack, to memories of their days together, and she could no more stop the poignant recall than she could hold back the tides.

Wheri
the sun had almost
disappeared,
she first noticed the chill of evening overcoming her. And she'd hurried back, knowing she was going to be late for
Felicie's
party.

Now, bathed and adorned for the evening, she'd dismissed her maid, finding it impossible to actually go downstairs and smile all evening. Sitting at the window,

284

her
gaze unfocused on the crashing surf, she contemplated possible ways to avoid the festivities.

Could she plead a headache, or would
Felicie
disregard such feeble resistance? What type of illness could suddenly and believably appear? Would a sprained ankle suffice?

A knock on the door interrupted her hopes for deliverance, and she grimaced before she called out, "I'll be right down."

At the sound of the door opening, she swiveled around, ready to apologize for not appearing sooner. But the words died in her throat.

Coming into the room, Jack shut the door. Dressed for the evening, he looked as he had so many times before: tall, powerful, darkly handsome, his allure so potent she could feel the familiar ache in her heart.

"How did you find me?"

His smile was the one she remembered so well.
"Peggy—who else."

"She made you come?" She shouldn't be so abrasive. A sensible woman would be more gracious.

"She can't make me do anything."

Her pulse rate
shifted,
began to beat in a wild tattoo. "So you decided to visit
Trouville
on your own?" Her governesses would have chided her for her lack of charm.

"Only when I heard you were here. You look wonderful. Unfashionably tanned and glowing. I've really missed you," he softly added.

"I've thought about you rather a lot, too."

"Good because I'm—" He paused, took a deep breath, a rueful smile quirking his mouth. "I planned a dozen different ways to say this on my way across the

285

Channel, but at the moment, all the fine phrases escape me. So I'll just ask." He blew out his breath. "Will you marry me?"

"You sound uncertain."

"I'm not even sure of my name right now. My brain seems to have ceased functioning. But you look even better than I remembered, and that's saying a lot. I'm also feeling happy for the first time in weeks"—4us grin had
a small
-boy innocence to it—"so say yes."

"It's very tempting . . ."

His expression changed: his eyes took on a shuttered look. "I told Peggy you'd say no."

"I'm not saying no."

He hadn't moved from the door. "You're not saying yes."

"I'm concerned about—" She hesitated.

His brows rose.

"
Your
past . . . your reputation, your entire way of life."

"I'm different now. You made me different. Ask Peggy. She was the one who insisted I come, because she was worried about my hermit's life."

"I knew she made you come."

"No." The shake of his head was minute. "She could never make me do something I didn't want to do. Her concern was mainly with my monkish ways."

"Monkish?" The word held a world of promise, and the
unje
to smile bubbled up inside her.

"Absolutely monkish.
And you?" He quickly held up his hand. "Forgive me. It's not an issue."

She
quirked one brow. "You don't mind if I've slept with someone?"

"Of course I do, but
your
past isn't in controversy."

286

He suppressed a smile. "Although I'd like to call out any man who's touched you."

"At the risk of augmenting your ego, you've spoiled me for other men."

He abruptly pushed away from the door, moving toward her as though her words had given him the assurance he needed. Reaching her, he took her hands in his and drew her to her feet. "Then marry me, because I need you to make my life complete. I long for you every minute of the day and dream of you at night. I'm thinking that must be love," he said, his gypsy eyes audacious.

"What if it isn't?" He sounded too cavalier and charming. "I'm not sure either of us knows what we're doing."

"I do."

"Easy to say.
Neither of us has ever been in love before. Think of the loss of independence."

"It's terrifying. I know. I drank several cases of brandy contemplating that loss of freedom. But, look, we're happy together and miserable apart. It seems pretty simple to me."

"I'm not so sure it will be simple. I remember you saying once, 'I'm going to need some ground rules.' And I do now."

"Such as?"

"Exclusivity.
You can't look at another woman. I won't have a marriage like—" she pulled her hand from his and gestured vaguely "—so many others."

"Nor will
I
." He recaptured her hand, possessive and wanting the comforting touch of her. "You can't flirt with other men. I can't guarantee my sanity should you."

"Are we immature and juvenile? Others seem to be

287

blase
about fidelity." She understood the rules of a society where nothing mattered but appearances.

"I'm not a tolerant man," he softly declared.

"Nor would I be
blase
about the
Bellas
of your world," she firmly countered.

"Then we're agreed," he said. "Set a date—soon."

Her smile was teasing, her gaze joyful. "What if I want a large wedding?"

"Then we'll have a large wedding—soon."

"That's not such an easy task."

"I'm sure Maurice can help.
And Peggy, of course.
She can move mountains if necessary. How does next week sound?"

"Impossible!" She leaned back a little so she could better gauge his seriousness. "My parents are in Morocco."

"We'll bring them home."

He
was
serious. "There are other complications, too, darling, including our schedules. Where will we live?"

"Don't keep bringing up trivialities," he calmly said. "Adjusting our schedules isn't an issue. Nothing's an issue as long as you marry me. I'm going to have much more time now that I've given up vice. So I'm completely at your disposal."

She didn't even know if she should quibble anymore after his gracious recanting of his previous amusements, but she really did have
a certain
inflexibility in her schedule. "I'm going to have to spend at least two weeks each month in Paris," she stated.

He shrugged. "It shouldn't be a problem. How do you feel about children? Austin
telb
me I should think about an heir, with Trevor next in line."