Legendary Lover

Crystal Palace London, May 1851 The Marquis of Redvers caught sight of the Honorable Sarah Palmer and her aunt Lady Tallien before they saw him, and quickly slipped away down the nearest aisle. The crowds at the Great Exhibition offered him refuge, the daily attendance of forty thousand a veritable crush beneath the glass barrel vaults of Paxton's brilliant design. Taking no notice of the exhibits, he moved swiftly through the throng, concerned only with putting distance between himself and the two ladies. Sarah, newly out, had set her cap for him--always reason for evasion--while her aunt Bella, one of his many lovers, had begun making demands of him of late. Definitely time to move on, now and in the future. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, he detected no telltale bobbing pink bonnet feathers in the mass of humanity behind him and, gratified, he determined to make his unavailability crystal clear next time he met the Palmer ladies. But not today, not after two nights of women and carouse; he was damned tired. And if Sarah Palmer didn't understand he wasn't in the market for a wife, her aunt certainly should, as did anyone in the ton with half a brain. Swiveling around a second too late, he crashed into a lady reading a brochure. She began to pitch backward, her astonished cry swallowed up in the din of the crowd. Reacting instinctively, he caught her arms, pulling her hard against him to keep them both from falling. Her eyes flared wide at the impress of his muscled chest against her breasts, his powerful thighs braced against hers. Stunned, she looked up into dark eyes suddenly regarding her with interest. She was exquisite--golden-haired, dazzling, graphically voluptuous--and even after two sleepless nights of debauch, the marquis's senses instantly came alert. "Pardon me," he murmured in a deep, low, fascinated tone. "You're pardoned." A modicum of reserve underlay her words. But he didn't let her go. Her lavish breasts, shapely thighs, and wide-eyed beauty were too intriguing. "You're French," he said. "Unhand me, please." Her voice was cool now, her arms held out wide. A gentleman despite all his profligate ways, he released her and stepped away. But he took note of the brochure in her hand, the machine on the cover a vast conglomeration of gaslights and mirrors. The exact one, he reflected, gazing over her shoulder, on display in the booth behind her--the apparatus set at the head and foot of an operating table. "I've been thinking of buying a dozen of those," he remarked, pointing at her brochure, his smile gracious. Her surprise showed. "For my tenants' hospital," he mendaciously added. "You must have a very large establishment." She was wary. He'd never seen that look before in a woman; his reputation for pleasing women was well known. "Just a small one at each estate," he improvised. The caution left her eyes, replaced by a spark of interest. "Do you employ doctors, or just nurses? I've found that nurses often . . ." Her conversation became quite animated at that point and, guiding her to one side of the stream of traffic, he reJohnson, Susan is the author of 'Legendary Lover' with ISBN 9780553578676 and ISBN 0553578677.