Surrender the Stars

by Wright, Cynthia

  "That's why I haven't burdened you with our problems. We're only servants after all."

  Ryan cut a slice of the square cake and took a bite. "Mmm!" he exclaimed. "Now this tastes of America!"

  A warm blush spread over Cassie's cheeks. "It's my own recipe for blueberry gingerbread. I had to bake it during Mrs. Butter's nap."

  "One hopes that she may nap more often," he murmured with a wink of encouragement.

  "There, you see how much you're loved and appreciated?" Devon exclaimed. "Captain Coleraine is going riding momentarily and then you and I will sit down and talk this over. Agreed?"

  Nodding, Cassie backed out the door. Devon watched as Ryan poured tea for them both, squeezed lemon into his own, and drank half the cup.

  "You must have gotten home very late to have slept so long," she ventured.

  His eyes met hers over the rim of his cup. "I didn't just awaken. I had to bathe, shave, and dress, you know. This damnable cravat requires a ridiculous amount of time to tie correctly."

  "I suppose so." She paused, then tried again. "Will you at least give me some clues as to the outcome of your interview with Lady Chadwick?"

  "What aspect were you interested in? Social? Political? Sexual?"

  "Ryan, you are being quite odious!" she cried, her cheeks pink.

  He smiled wryly. "You look like your daughter when you blush. No, don't scold me further; I'll yield. Lady Chadwick and I renewed our friendship quite successfully, and we may trust her to keep our secret. Politically, she has agreed to help in some rather roundabout ways by informing me of the receptions to attend where prominent Tories will be present. It was Hester who encouraged me to visit Hyde Park as often as possible. Seems that plenty of powerful men, as well as dandies, ride there at five o'clock." He took another bite of blueberry gingerbread and finished his tea, then gave her a sly look. "As to the last area of interest, there's nothing to tell."

  "You wouldn't say so if there were!"

  Ryan laughed. "Quite true." Picking up his hat and riding crop, he came around the table to kiss her cheek. "I'll see you later, Mother dear. Wish me luck."

  The sound of his footsteps on the stairs had faded before Devon realized that she hadn't told Ryan that Lindsay had also gone out to the Hyde Park—in the company of Lord Fanshawe.

  * * *

  Lindsay was feeling reckless and gay seated beside Dudley in a beautiful vis-a-vis drawn by a pair of elegant grays, as they wound their way over the paths of Hyde Park. They passed, and greeted, the cream of London society. The men rode the finest horses Lindsay had ever seen and the women were in neat, two-person equipages like her own.

  When Andre had led her out to the stables before Dudley's arrival and explained that it was not considered proper for a female to be seen on a horse of her own, Lindsay had balked. But then the sight of the vis-a-vis he had just acquired for the use of his wife and daughter dissolved her anger. It was the most charming little carriage she had ever seen, with its hammer cloth, rich in heraldic designs, and its cozy interior. Best of all, a proper vis-a-vis only ventured forth with two liveried footmen and a coachman, all richly garbed and sporting powdered wigs. Lindsay loved the fantasy, especially once they were in the park and it all became even more extravagant and whimsical.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Raveneau, Lord Fanshawe!" It was the Duke of Dorset on his magnificent white horse. Affably, he doffed his beaver hat and smiled at Lindsay.

  "It's a pleasure to see you, Your Grace!" she replied. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

  "It can't hold a candle to you, my dear." The duke's eyes swept from her beguiling bonnet of periwinkle satin, set off by a cluster of real pink roses, to the matching muslin day gown that showed Lindsay's lithe curves to advantage. "You're a fortunate man, Fanshawe."

  "I'm aware of that, Your Grace."

  The cherubic, white-wigged coachman snapped the reins then and they moved on. Paths curved past ponds, flowerbeds, and groves of trees under which grazed cows and deer. The vis-a-vis slowed so that they might nod to the Prince Regent, who had paused to converse with the Earl of Sefton. Then, as they rounded the gentle crest of a hill, a stretch of empty pathway lay before them.

  "Alone at last!" Dudley murmured with a pleased smile. He gazed at her with frank adoration.

  Slightly disconcerted, Lindsay glanced around and pointed toward a stately elm. "Look over there, Lord Fanshawe!"

  "Dudley," he corrected, taking her hand in his. "Don't they have elm trees in America? They're a common sight here, I can assure you."

  "No, no, look under the tree. There's a doe with the most adorable fawn!"

  "Not half so adorable as you, my sweet. You're the loveliest woman in London, you know." He edged closer. "I'd begun to think I'd never have you to myself."

  With immense relief, Lindsay heard a horse trot up beside the little carriage. She was about to look up when a voice drawled, "Have her to your self! I'm afraid that's impossible, old man, at least as long as I'm around to uphold the proprieties!"

  "Raveneau!" Dudley exclaimed, staring at the only man on Hyde Park's paths who was not clad in a blue coat with brass buttons. "What are you doing here?"

  "Gad, sir!" Ryan raised his quizzing glass and struck an attitude. "I've come to chaperone my innocent sister!"

  "Chaperone?" he spluttered. "Lindsay doesn't need to be chaperoned; she's with me!"

  Languidly, Ryan lifted his right brow. "My point exactly, Fanshawe. That's why I'm here. One can never be too careful with the reputation of a beloved sibling." As the vis-a-vis began to roll onward, he trotted alongside on Andre's favorite black gelding. "In that line, I'd appreciate it if you would address Lindsay as Miss Raveneau. It don't do to relax the rules, you know."

  Lindsay was torn between fury and mirth. Next to her, Dudley hissed, "Can't you do something? Tell him to go away, that you're perfectly safe with me!"

  She looked up and had to smile at the sight of Ryan lazily examining his coat sleeve and flicking off an imaginary speck of dust. Then his eyes wandered over to meet hers, and for an instant, they betrayed a familiar glint of amusement.

  Sighing, Lindsay turned back to Dudley. "I don't want to hurt his feelings," she whispered. "After all, he's only trying to be a good brother and his concern is genuine."

  He wanted to shout at her that her brother was a ridiculous fool who didn't deserve a place in her family, but bit his tongue.

  "Lindsay," Ryan murmured with a yawn, "you're forgetting your manners. Have you no greeting for your brother? Aren't you glad to see me?"

  She rolled her eyes at him. "Hello, Nathan. Of course I'm glad to see you, but you really didn't need to go to all this bother."

  "Bother?" Ryan repeated as if he didn't quite understand. "Bother? Nonsense, m'dear! As long as there is breath in my body, I shall devote myself to your welfare. Quite frankly, I can't think of a better way of spending my time!"

  Lindsay was barely able to stifle a giggle when, next to her, Dudley's shoulders sagged and she heard him moan in torment.

  Part Three

  The stars of midnight shall be dear to her; and she shall lean her ear in many a secret place where rivulets dance their wayward round, and beauty born of murmuring sound shall pass into her face.

  —William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

  Chapter 18

  June 11, 1814

  Devon Raveneau's lap was adrift with invitations. "I find it difficult to comprehend that there can be enough people in London society to give this many routs and assemblies," she remarked.

  Across the morning room, Mouette sat in a ray of sunlight mending little Anthony's pants, recently split during a foray down the banister. The blond little boy stood nearby, his head bent in concentration over a plate of cookies just procured from the kitchen by his Aunt Lindsay.

  "Aren't you happy that the family has been welcomed so readily into society? You all were a tremendous success at Carlton House, and Harry has overheard several young men at the clubs discussing Lindsay's ch
arms." Mouette snapped the thread and smiled mischievously at her sister. "Already she has Lord Fanshawe on the verge of a proposal! You have no idea how many fashionable young ladies have been angling to catch his eye!"

  "A proposal?" Lindsay tried to laugh. "You exaggerate, Mouette."

  "This is all well and good," Devon said absently, sipping her tea, "but I didn't realize that taking up residence in London would mean that we would have to attend all these tedious parties! Could President Madison have intended that we endure such unremitting torture?"

  "Mama, what do you mean?" asked Lindsay.

  "Oh, it's just unbearable. One receives invitations like these"—she sifted through the pile for emphasis—"You see, we have several for each evening. We would arrive in a home that has been virtually emptied of furniture to accommodate the crush and then we would endeavor to squeeze into it. No one can sit, and it's much too crowded for cards or music. After a quarter hour, carriages are called and one waits in a long line, then goes on to the next rout, and then the next." She shook her head in remembered horror. "I swore that I would never attend another rout unless it was being given by a close friend or relative!"

  Mouette laughed. "Well, that's reassuring since we are planning to give one on the twenty-fifth! Besides, Mother, I think you're being a trifle selfish. If you refuse to venture forth to mingle with society at these routs, how will Lindsay meet men?"

  "I really wish you would stop that!" Lindsay cried. "I'm perfectly content."

  "Are you in love with Dudley?" her sister pressed.

  She was saved from answering by the appearance of Raveneau in the doorway. "Good afternoon, ladies," he greeted them, entering to kiss his wife's brow. "And Anthony, hello to you, too!"

  The little boy was buttoning his pants but looked up to declare, "I'm not a lady!"

  "You most certainly are not. What's been going on here?"

  "Mama's been complaining that we may have to attend a lot of routs," Lindsay explained. "As you can see, the morning post brought scores of invitations!"

  "That's a good sign." Andre nodded. When Devon looked up in alarmed surprise, his teacup in her hand, he took it from her and chuckled. "Don't panic, ma chere," he murmured, taking a place beside her on the mahogany settee. "You'll be spared the routs, for the moment at least. I just visited the House of Lords and received an invitation, ostensibly from the Regent, who seems to be afraid to venture outdoors in daylight these days for fear of being jeered by the populace. At any rate, he's taking his visitors to Oxford on the fourteenth—this Tuesday—and asks that we join the party."

  "Why would the Regent include us in such an illustrious group?" Devon wondered.

  "The Whigs have stirred up so much public sentiment against him and for Princess Caroline that I think he is uncertain whom he can trust. Add to that the rather remarkable adulation the czar and his fellow visitors have been receiving here, and one may be assured that the Regent is currently feeling very insecure indeed. No doubt we, as newcomers, appear to be relatively harmless to him."

  "Hmm. And there's the fact that we're American," Devon mused. "Our presence would not only make Prinny appear magnanimous, but it would also add a certain spice to the group."

  "I've always wanted to see Oxford," Lindsay said dreamily.

  Andre smiled, then looked at his older daughter. "Did I mention that Mouette and Harry are also invited? And where is my son, the newest buck of St. James's?"

  "He went to Tattersall's at least two hours ago to claim his new horse," Mouette told him, careful not to say Ryan even in front of little Anthony. "He looked almost excited before his departure!"

  "Better a horse than a woman," he replied dryly.

  Lindsay pretended to rearrange the plate of cookies while inquiring, "Papa, what shall we do in Oxford? What's the reason for this journey?"

  "I imagine that the Regent wishes to impress the czar and the various rulers. Who could fail to be impressed by Oxford? I believe that there are some formal plans, however. Degrees for the czar and the king of Prussia, a magnificent dinner at the Radcliffe Camera—"

  "The circular, domed library?" Lindsay exclaimed. "I have seen drawings of it. It's the best thing at Oxford—at least I think it may be! Oh, I can hardly wait!"

  "Neither can I!" cried a voice, infused with mock gaiety, from the corridor. An instant later, Ryan peeked around the door frame, one eyebrow arched above blue eyes that danced with devils. "I don't know what we're speaking of, but I did overhear Lindsay's words, and, infected by the rare, unbridled excitement in her voice, I lost my head."

  "I wish that you would," Lindsay muttered.

  Devon pretended not to hear. "Come and join us. Have you brought your new horse safely home?"

  "Indeed!" He came into the room, obviously in high spirits, and sat down beside Mouette. "A finer piece of horseflesh I've never seen! His name is Simon, and he's a magnificent black stallion. We liked each other the moment we met yesterday. They told me at Tattersall's that Simon's never taken to anyone this way before."

  "My goodness," Lindsay murmured, unable to stop herself, "it's a shame he's not female. This sounds like a match made in heaven!"

  "Well, we'll all go down to the stables to meet this steed," Andre proclaimed, ignoring his daughter, "but first we should inform you of our plans for next week."

  At the mention of the word horse, little Anthony had produced a wooden miniature from his pocket and was now showing it to Ryan, who inspected the toy with sober approval. After a moment, he glanced up absently. "Plans?"

  "We're going to join the Regent's entourage when he takes his European visitors to Oxford on Tuesday," Devon informed him brightly. "Isn't it exciting?"

  Ryan's smile faded slightly, and then he blinked. "Did you say Oxford?"

  "That's right!" Mouette chimed in. "We're all going! I for one cannot wait to escape from London for even two days. It will be a lovely diversion!"

  "I've always wanted to see Oxford," Lindsay said again. "I've read so much about it, I half expect the town to be shrouded in a magical haze."

  Ryan took a deep breath. "Well, I hope you all enjoy yourselves, but I'm afraid that I cannot join you. I have a previous engagement on Tuesday."

  "How mysterious!" Devon lifted delicate brows. "Won't you elaborate?"

  "I'd rather not." Determinedly, Ryan returned his attention to Anthony, bending his head to the boy's level and thereby avoiding the curious stares from the adults in the room. "It's a... private matter."

  Lindsay's cheeks grew warm as she stared at his crisp ebony hair. A private matter? What else could that mean except an appointment—a rendezvous—with Lady Chadwick? The sight of her parents exchanging knowing looks only intensified Lindsay's mixed feelings of outrage and mortification. It galled her to realize that she cared what he did and to remember the scenes between them first at Carlton House and then in his bedchamber here. Worse, she had succumbed to Ryan's charm just hours later in Hyde Park when she should have ordered him to leave her alone with Dudley Fanshawe. Now, Lindsay looked away from him and gazed out the window at the garden court below, wondering what was happening to her and why.

  "You're being very difficult, Nathan," Mouette was saying. "What shall we tell the Regent?"

  Before he could answer, Roderick appeared in the doorway, paler than usual and breathing hard from the effort of climbing the long flight of stairs. "Lord Fanshawe is here to see you, sir," he intoned with a bow to Raveneau.

  "Send him up, Roderick."

  One or two minutes passed slowly before Dudley came into the morning room. Clad in a dark blue coat of superfine with brass buttons and snug biscuit-colored pantaloons, his blond hair shone in the sunlight and his light blue eyes gleamed with confidence. "Hello, all!" he proclaimed, smiling at each family member in turn. "Isn't it a fine day?"

  "It certainly is, Lord Fanshawe," Devon replied politely. "Won't you sit down and tell us what brings you to Grosvenor Square?"

  "With pleasure, Mrs. Raveneau." />
  Lindsay felt a bit overcome as she watched him approach, then take a seat next to her on the settee. Dutifully, she whispered, "Good afternoon, Dudley."

  "It is now," he murmured, gazing first into her eyes before letting his eyes drop to the low neckline of her pale blue morning dress. "You're looking lovely as usual, my dear Lindsay."

  She tried not to blush when she glimpsed Ryan's black brows arch upward. "It's kind of you to say so."

  Arabella had arrived with a steaming pot of tea. Devon poured and then, once their guests had taken a sip, inquired, "Have you called for the sole purpose of gazing upon our daughter?"

  Lord Fanshawe laughed as if she had made a great joke. "Certainly that would be reason enough, my dear Mrs. Raveneau, but, in truth, I had another errand. You see, I received a letter from my parents today. At their ages, they prefer life at Grimley Court, our family estate in Oxfordshire, to the social whirl of London. However, upon hearing that the Regent has planned a trip to Oxford, they have written requesting that I invite a select few from that group to visit Grimley Court on the fifteenth of June."

  "How kind of them," Devon said, wishing that her family were elsewhere.

  "I inquired at the palace regarding the list of people traveling with the Regent and then decided that ten, with my parents, sounded like the proper number." Dudley squared his shoulders and grinned. "Straightaway it came to me that this family should be among those invited. That includes Sir Harry and Lady Brandreth, of course."

  "Who will fill the last two places?" Mouette asked.

  "I thought that the Earl and Countess of Chadwick might round the party out nicely. They are the right ages and jolly good company, don't you think? Have you all met them?"

  Lindsay choked on her tea and Dudley looked on, unsure of what he should do. Finally Ryan stood and leaned over to strike her back lightly with his palm. "Steady on, brat!" he exclaimed, his words of encouragement underlined with an amusement that only she could discern.