Joining the row of curious Londoners, who were obviously in a holiday mood, Devon said, "Did I tell you? Harry says that the banquet at Carlton House for the royals will take place tomorrow night, and he has acquired invitations for all of us. It's just what we hoped for! The perfect way to introduce Lindsay and Ry—that is, Nathan—into London society!"
"How could you forget to mention something so important?" Lindsay exclaimed. "What will I wear?"
"You'll have to pardon your mother," Andre murmured ironically. "Obviously 'Harry says' so much that her mind is overcrowded with his utterances."
Ryan leaned around Lindsay's back and whispered to Raveneau, "Since Harry seems to have knowledge about everything, we must be thankful that he is part of the family!"
"Mmm." Andre nodded absently, then straightened and stared into the distance.
"My forgetfulness has less to do with Harry than with the fact that I am unused to Lindsay caring about banquets and balls!" Devon amended.
A slim, blond young man was wending his way through the line of people in front of them when he stopped suddenly and stared at Devon and Andre. "Why, it's Captain and Mrs. Raveneau, isn't it?"
Surprised, Devon smiled, nodded, and asked, "Have we met, sir?"
"Not since I was a child, I'm afraid, but I'd never forget you, madame!" He held out a pale hand. "I'm Lord Fanshawe. My parents are the Earl and Countess of Grimley."
"But of course!" Devon clapped her hands in delight. "We spent a week at your family estate in Oxfordshire the last time we visited England. You couldn't have been more than fourteen at the time. How lovely to see you! Lord Fanshawe, do you remember my daughter, Lindsay, and son, Nathan?"
"How could I forget? Miss Raveneau tried to compel me to read the complete works of Shakespeare in five days and continually threatened me with a comprehensive examination!" He swept off his beaver hat and kissed Lindsay's hand. "You've grown into a beautiful woman, Miss Raveneau," he murmured, staring at her with liquid brown eyes.
"Did you finally read Shakespeare, Lord Fanshawe?" she inquired, her cheeks warming under his appreciative gaze.
"Please, call me Dudley. And yes, I was forced to at Oxford and I must confess that I liked it no better. But at least there the course was being taught by a master who looked like a toad, so I was not so distracted."
Ryan, who had been twirling his quizzing glass between his thumb and forefinger, lifted it to his eye and stared. "I beg your pardon, my good fellow."
Dudley Fanshawe looked over and blinked as he focused on a handsome, languid dandy in a pale yellow coat. "My last memory of you, sir, is the day that you challenged me to a race on my father's two best hunters. You sailed over an impossibly high hedge that I was too cowardly to attempt, ending the contest." He put out his hand, which Ryan accepted lightly. "So, we meet again. I don't think I would have recognized you."
"Nor I you, sir." Ryan glanced at Fanshawe's cravat with a nearly imperceptible air of disdain.
Discomfited, the young man turned to Raveneau and paid his respects, then nodded at the others and moved farther down the line of people. Lindsay instantly rounded on Ryan.
"Why on earth did you have to behave like such an idiot?"
"Part of the role, m'dear. Besides, I don't recall doing anything out of line." Extracting his snuffbox, Ryan flicked it open, took a tiny pinch, set it below the base of his left thumb, and sniffed. "Did I?"
"Put that silly thing away!" Lindsay's voice rose to a pitch that caused bystanders to turn and stare. "And you can dispense with that foolish act with me!" she continued in a heated whisper. "I know the real you, and though I don't like him any better, at least he said what he meant!"
"Did I say something amiss to Lord Fanshawe? I don't recall speaking more than a half-dozen words to the man."
"Dudley Fanshawe is obviously a warm, sincere gentleman, and I won't allow you to make sport of him under the guise of this masquerade!"
Devon looked over, a finger to her lips. "Hush! Both of you!" she commanded. "There's a carriage turning at Hyde Park corner, and I'll wager it's the czar."
True to her prediction, a plain carriage drew up swiftly and unannounced in front of the hotel with its stone pillars and bow windows. A file of waiters dashed down the steps to form a line before a tall, smiling man emerged from the vehicle. He paused to blow a kiss to a lady at a first-floor window, then disappeared into the hotel.
"Well, that was interesting, I suppose," Devon remarked. "At least we've had some fresh air—and some fodder for conversation tomorrow night at Carlton House."
"And we met Dudley Fanshawe!" Lindsay exclaimed, ignoring Ryan. "What a charming young man!"
As if on cue, Lord Fanshawe reappeared, pausing across from them on the pavement. His eyes were riveted on Lindsay as he tipped his hat, smiled, and said, "I hope to see you all at Carlton House tomorrow evening."
"We'll be there," Lindsay murmured shyly.
"I can't wait," Ryan put in in a bored voice.
Dudley looked perplexed but managed another smile before setting off in the direction of Green Park.
"Ouch!" Ryan gasped in surprise as an elbow poked his ribs.
"You are the only brat in this family!" Lindsay accused. "Thank God I don't have to put up with you for a lifetime!"
He looked around at Andre and Devon, the picture of innocence except for the devils dancing in his dark blue Irish eyes. "Was it something I said?"
Chapter 15
June 8, 1814
"They say that the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg can't abide Prinny," Sir Harry Brandreth murmured confidentially between long sips of champagne in the Crimson Drawing Room of Carlton House, the Prince Regent's own palace overlooking St. James's Park.
"Do they?" Devon responded politely. She and Lindsay had come over to join Mouette and her husband while Andre and Ryan chatted with a group of powerful Tories.
Everyone looked dazzling and she had never seen Carlton House more lavishly decorated. Outside, its pillars were hung with thousands of lanterns and its screen was silhouetted by topaz and scarlet flares set between palm trees. Here in the Crimson Drawing Room, a spectacular chandelier glittered above them and they stood on a carpet of blue velvet adorned with the insignia of the Garter. Yet Devon felt that something was wrong. The heat was oppressive and Mouette wore an uncustomary expression of distracted melancholy. Meanwhile, Harry droned on.
"The grand duchess feels that the Regent is used up by dissipation and she says he and his brothers have a brazen way of looking at her. Of course, it's well known that the czar and his sister are very close, so his opinion of the Regent will doubtless be colored by the ideas she has formed during her two months in London. The czar has already snubbed Prinny by deciding to remain at the Pulteney Hotel with the grand duchess!" Sensing that he was losing his audience, Harry followed their gazes to Ryan's handsome figure. "I'm glad to see that Nathan had the good sense to dress properly for this occasion." Harry lifted his quizzing glass and scanned Ryan's spotless black frock coat, breeches, and impeccable white cravat, which were set off to advantage by his hard physique and gleaming back hair. "I was afraid he might turn up in a lavender coat or something equally outrageous."
Lindsay was surprised to feel a surge of indignation. "My brother is not a fool, Harry!"
Accepting another glass of champagne from a passing tray, he lifted a blond brow above flushed cheeks. "Of course he's not, dear child. He's a Raveneau, ain't he? No one has more respect for the attributes of your family than I! If Nathan has erred since arriving in London, it is only because he's misguided, not stupid. I can see that I should have spent more time with him and offered a bit more advice. Coming from America, he may not understand that there are certain rules here that it don't do to break."
"Apparently Beau Brummell doesn't share your viewpoint," Lindsay murmured. "He approves of Nathan. What more could he aspire to?"
"Oh, Lindsay, don't be so tiresome!" Mouette exclaimed petulantly. "You're sounding
more like Nathan's wife than his sister!"
Sipping her champagne as a hot blush spread maddeningly over her cheeks, Lindsay managed to retort, "What an odd thing to say, Mouette!"
At that moment, Ryan came up behind her and slipped an arm around her waist. "The Regent has requested that you be presented to him," he whispered, his voice full of mischief. "Guard your virtue, sister dear."
Before she could answer, Lindsay found herself being guided across the immense drawing room, which was one of several in the palace. Ryan's manner was casual, but his voice held a sensual undercurrent as he murmured, "I haven't had a chance to tell you how beautiful you look tonight. I'm hard-pressed to act fraternal in your presence."
His eyes swept over her bare shoulders, the lace and satin gown Dolly Jones had pinned in his presence, then brushed the exposed curves of her breasts and lingered on Lindsay's fine-boned, glowing face. The amethysts in her upswept red-gold curls paled in comparison.
Blushing, Lindsay focused on the rotund figure of the Prince Regent, who watched her approach from across the drawing room. Her first impression was that of an overgrown, self-indulgent baby, but she was soon distracted by his charm. Bright blue eyes beamed at her in approval, nearly allowing Lindsay to overlook the florid face of their owner.
"Your Royal Highness," Ryan said soberly, "I would like to present my sister, Miss Lindsay Raveneau."
"I am honored, Your Majesty," Lindsay said, bowing her head as she sank into a curtsy.
He took her hand with plump fingers. "The honor is all mine, Miss Raveneau. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I believe that you may be even more beautiful than your mother." He chuckled conspiratorially. "Don't tell her I said so, of course! What you may repeat is my sentiment that we are honored to have you in London."
"Your Majesty is very kind," she answered demurely.
The Regent then presented Lindsay to his royal guests and it seemed that he was happy to have the distraction. Czar Alexander was blond and elegant in a bottle-green velvet uniform decorated with gold braid and diamond stars. Rumor had it that he was complicated, a mixture of progressive ideas and mysticism.
King Frederick William of Prussia was a bluff, gaunt man who had also snubbed the Regent in his own fashion. Although he had agreed to stay at Carlton House, he had spurned the magnificent suite of satinwood furniture, insisting on a simple camp bed.
Lindsay knew enough Russian to make conversation with the foreign guests, thereby impressing them favorably. She particularly won the favor of Field Marshal von Blucher, the snowy-haired chancellor of Prussia. The old hero, who had never wavered in his opposition to Napoleon and had been chiefly responsible for the drive toward Paris, fixed Lindsay with a twinkling eye.
"Are you enjoying London?" she asked him.
The field marshal cocked a bushy white brow at her décolletage. "Ah!" he exclaimed lustily. "What a city to sack!"
Instead of shrinking in embarrassment, Lindsay met his gaze and joined in his laughter. "If you mean to make me blush, sir, I should tell you that I am the daughter of a sea captain. I outgrew timidity long ago—in self-defense!"
Catherine, Grand Duchess of Oldenburg, was chatting with Countess Lieven, the alluring wife of the Russian ambassador and a leader of London society, but both looked up to acknowledge the Raveneau offspring.
"My dears, what a pleasure to meet you at last," murmured Countess Lieven. "Lady Jersey and I were just saying this afternoon that we must send you both vouchers for Almack's. We'll expect you at next week's assembly."
"Wednesdays, aren't they?" Ryan said. "We'd be happy to attend. But, Countess, how are they managing without you tonight? This is Wednesday, and Brummell whispers that you have allowed the waltz to be danced within Almack's hallowed walls."
"I'm certain that the assembly is very dull without me." Her smile was both arch and seductive. "Have you not heard, Mr. Raveneau? It is not fashionable where I am not."
"In that case, we are honored." Ryan's fingers pressed the small of Lindsay's back. "Are we not, dear sister?"
Before Lindsay could reply, the grand duchess linked arms with her brother and inquired of the Regent, "Your Highness, will we have the pleasure of meeting your wife, Princess Caroline, tonight?"
An awkward silence reigned. The Regent emptied his crystal glass of cherry brandy, then cleared his throat. "Uh, no, no, I'm afraid that's not possible." Desperate for a distraction, he brought out his snuffbox and took a pinch for effect, letting it escape before it reached his nose.
"I don't understand," the grand duchess pressed on. "I thought that tonight of all nights the princess would be present to greet the royal visitors who have traveled so very far."
Prinny's face grew even redder. The relationship between him and his unattractive, resentful wife had deteriorated to the point where he could no longer bear her company at all and she amused herself by attempting to embarrass the Regent in public. His position was made even more unnerving and humiliating by the fact that the people of London seemed to have taken Princess Caroline's side in the ongoing drama. And now, here were these European royals who would not allow the Regent to ignore his wife's existence. After all, she was the niece of George III and daughter of the Duke of Brunswick.
"I don't know if an introduction can be effected," he muttered. "My wife has been indisposed of late."
"Has she, indeed?" The grand duchess exchanged glances with the czar.
Lindsay's heart nearly went out to the squirming Regent, until she remembered his years of adultery with Mrs. Fitzherbert and Lady Jersey. Now it was said that there was a new woman in his life, a haughty Tory grandmother called Lady Hertford. Mouette whispered that he visited her every afternoon and that the Marquess of Hertford tactfully left them alone together. Furthermore, Lady Hertford was known to have a powerful degree of influence with the Regent.
Now, as if she sensed that she was the unspoken subject of conversation among the group of royals, the impeccably groomed but aging Marchioness of Hertford appeared at Prinny's side.
"Good evening, Your Highness," she murmured in cultivated tones.
"Ah, Lady Hertford!" With the irrational reaction of one in love, he happily faced his guests. "Czar Alexander, I would like to present my Lady Hertford."
"It is a great honor to meet the savior of Europe!" she declared.
The Russian ruler stared into space. The Regent, knowing him to be a little deaf and supposing he had not heard, repeated loudly, "This is my Lady Hertford!"
The czar continued to ignore them both, whereupon the lady made a deep curtsy, gave him the haughtiest of glances, and withdrew.
Lindsay took Ryan's arm, anxious to absent herself from the increasingly uncomfortable situation. He tensed his bicep in reply, then smiled at Countess Lieven. "Countess, would you care to speak to our parents? They have both been longing to see you since our arrival in London."
"No more than I have longed to see them!"
Curtsies and bows were made to the Regent and his guests, then the trio started across the drawing room. Beau Brummell accosted them midway.
"My dear countess," he murmured with an ironic smile, "what was that all about?"
Countess Lieven lifted winged brows. "Czar Alexander refused to acknowledge Lady Hertford. 'Twas not so significant, however, as the damning look she sent his way before quitting his company. You know, George, how much influence she has with our dear Regent. It's my opinion that the fate of this visit was written in that single glance."
* * *
Soon the guests adjourned with short-lived relief to the Throne Room. Here Queen Charlotte, the stiff and unpleasant wife of mad George III, took her place under the canopy of helmets and ostrich plumes to receive hundreds of members of the court. The old queen had borne fifteen children, but she had never relaxed the rigid etiquette learned at the German court of her youth and thus these functions were invariably boring for the participants.
This particular evening was made more excruciating
by the stifling heat. Czar Alexander, left with nothing to do but stand and watch, amused himself by quizzing young beauties.
Finally, the Regent led his guests down the circular double staircase to a still more wonderful set of apartments below. Room after room was decorated sumptuously, but most magnificent of all was the conservatory, with a nave and aisles formed by clusters of carved pillars, stained-glass windows, and moonlit marble pavement.
"Well," Ryan murmured to Lindsay, "I believe I saw the king of Prussia gasp in amazement. Perhaps the Regent will feel better."
"I don't think so," she replied. "He looks quite unhappy to me."
"Doubtless all this food will cheer him up." His eyes swept the tables filled with dishes of gold plate that were laden with hot soups, roasts, a variety of cold food, and a fabulous assortment of fresh fruits including peaches, pineapples, and grapes. There appeared to be enough iced champagne for every citizen of London.
Lindsay accepted a glass from a servant's tray and drank it down. "I have a prodigious thirst!" she exclaimed, then hiccupped.
Ryan chuckled fondly. "I've missed you lately."
She lifted her chin. "We've been very busy—and you've been very bad."
"Bad?" He watched as she traded her empty glass for a full one and took a long sip. "I?"
"Yes. Thou." Lindsay giggled softly at her own wit. "Of course, it's no surprise. Your behavior has been objectionable since the day I met you."
"And you have liked me for it."
"What conceit!" Bravely, she gazed at his chiseled face and felt a strange weakness steal over her body. "I have told you that I despise you, and I never lie. I will admit that lately I have come to feel a certain contrary fondness for you, but that is in line with our new roles in life. It reminds me strongly of my feelings for Nathan."
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