Surrender the Stars
Page 9
Ryan gathered up the cards as Andre took the remaining chair and lifted his mug to the other three. "Here's to this newly formed family—and a successful adventure in London."
Dutifully, they joined in the toast. Lindsay looked at Ryan under her eyelashes as she took a sip of wine and flushed when he dared to wink at her. Devon, meanwhile, was gazing thoughtfully at her new Irish "son."
"You know, we're nearly halfway to England," she said, "and I think it's time to begin formulating a plan."
"Really! A plan?" André echoed, feigning surprise. "Is it possible that you have one in mind already?"
"Be serious! I've listened to enough nonsense this past hour!" Confronted with three startled, contrite faces, Devon continued, "We can't just stumble into London, acting as we please, and expect to melt successfully into society. Lindsay, for example, must discipline herself to behave as a proper lady, which—until lately—has not been a problem for her. Far more important is Ryan's role. I've given quite a bit of thought to this...." She turned her attention to him and was pleased to see that, aside from raised brows, he appeared serious and receptive. "Pretending to be Nathan should not be difficult since our son hasn't been to London for over ten years. When last seen there, he was a rather gangly youth of eighteen and could have undergone all manner of changes during the intervening decade. What concerns me more is finding a way to ensure your entree into the best, and most influential, social circles—and, at the same time, seeing to it that the men you fraternize with are not on their guard when you're near."
Fascinated, Ryan leaned back in his chair. "Please, don't keep me in suspense!"
"Well," Devon said with a smile, looking around the table, "I think that the perfect solution would be to make Ryan a fop!"
"I beg your pardon?" her subject murmured, hoping that he had heard amiss.
"You know, a fop! A witless dandy who cares only about the cut of his clothes, the style of his cravat, the shine on his boots, and the bloodline of his horses!"
This outburst elicited stunned silence from the two men and a slow, evil smile from Lindsay. Andre was the first to speak. "Cherie, has the wine gone to your head?"
"Certainly not! I've been mulling this over for days. Don't you see, if Ryan appears on the scene in London looking and behaving as he always does, he'd be the last person to overhear secrets. He seems far too sharp-witted and confident—aside from the fact that women would be entranced by him at first sight and the men would be fearfully resentful. The whole purpose of Ryan coming along was to mix with the younger set, where you, Andre, would be out of place. A preoccupation with fashion would ensure him a position in society, while the rather slow-witted attitude of a fop would further his opportunities to eavesdrop on critical conversations!"
Raveneau considered this for a long moment before turning to the younger man. "I hate to say this, but my wife does have a point."
Ryan mustered a rather pained smile as he tried to picture himself mincing through the drawing rooms of London. "I know, but that doesn't mean I like it!"
Chapter 8
May 26, 1814
The wind and weather cooperated to speed La Mouette's crossing to Britain so that on the morning of May twenty-sixth, Captain Raveneau was able to announce that they would dock at Falmouth the following day.
"Isn't it exciting? Before we know it, we'll be in London!" Devon exclaimed to her daughter as they shared a spartan breakfast of tea, biscuits, and jam in Lindsay's snug cabin. Supplies were low, the fresh food had been consumed weeks before, and everyone talked of feasting once they reached England.
"I must confess that I'm a bit nervous," Lindsay said in a small voice. "London will be so huge, so different from what I'm used to. Furthermore, it's filled with strangers—snobbish ones at that!—who likely won't welcome an American girl with open arms!" She paused, then raised great gray eyes that shone with trepidation. "What if they don't like me, Mama?"
"Half your problem, darling, is that you have never been a social creature. From the time you could read, not so long after you began walking, as I recall, you would steal away from parties and we'd find you lying on your bed or under the big oak, reading." Devon reached over to clasp her daughter's hand. "Nothing could have pleased me more than your intellectual curiosity. However, it's important that you strive for balance. It's time, I'd say, for you to live life rather than read about the lives of others. I realize that the first steps of such an adventure can be precarious, but you'll soon be enjoying yourself and the new experiences that wait for you in England."
"And what about Ryan Coleraine?"
Devon, in the midst of spreading jam on a biscuit, glanced up in surprise. "Pardon?"
"Your new son!" Lindsay elaborated in acid tones. "The person I am supposed to shower with sisterly love!"
"What about him?"
"You know very well that there's a problem, and you and Papa have stubbornly refused to face it. I detest that man and I don't see how I can be expected to hide that fact from the world!"
"Darling, aren't you being rather dramatic? You only need to pretend to be Ryan's sister, not his lover!" Devon saw all too clearly the sudden smudges of color in the girl's cheeks. "Besides, I thought you two had grown quite friendly. The daily games of piquet, the sharing of books..."
"Mama, I've only tolerated him because I'm bored to tears on this ship! You know I hate the sea, I've told you often enough, just as I've told you that I loathe your precious Ryan, but you refuse to take me at my word!"
"You needn't shout, Lindsay. What purpose is served by this outburst? If it is for my benefit, what response do you expect? I cannot send you home, can I? Nor can I undo Ryan's new role in our lives." Her blue eyes flashed. "It would be wise for you to remember that none of us asked to be here today—including Ryan Coleraine! Try to remember that even unhappy turns of fate can be improved with the proper attitude. Self-pity is most unbecoming, my dear—learn to make the best of this opportunity!"
Lindsay paled. Her mother had always been careful not to criticize her for being different from the rest of the Raveneaus; on the contrary, she had quietly supported Lindsay's individuality. This unexpected dressing-down had a profound effect. "Oh, Mama," she whispered, "I can't bear for you to think that I am a selfish termagant!" Unbidden, memories of Ryan Coleraine calling her similar names returned to haunt her. "I think I am just frightened, and nervous, and those are feelings I'm not used to dealing with."
"Don't you see, though, sweetheart, it's time you learned." Devon insisted in a gentler tone. "You can't live through books and hide from the real world. And I am convinced that once you begin to share life with real people, you'll be transformed. Every new emotion will teach you something. You're a strong, intelligent girl and I know you'll emerge as a woman if you muster your courage and plunge ahead."
"If you say this, then it must be true. Can I tell you a secret, Mama?"
"Silly girl, of course you can!" Devon impulsively leaned forward to kiss her daughter's creamy cheek.
"I've always thought that you were the most perfect woman God ever created. I used to dream about growing up to be just like you, but then it seemed impossible, so I think I decided that it would be safer to be unlike you."
"I'll accept the compliment, Lindsay, but I won't hear you disparage yourself! While you were growing up, so self-possessed and beautiful, I would think how you were the child my mother always wished for. I was always so undisciplined and emotional that when I looked at you I began to believe that you were probably God's blessing on this adventure-craving family." Devon smiled rather wistfully. "So it seems that we all have worries that we conceal from the rest of the world, hmm?"
Lindsay nodded, sipped her tea, and then stared pensively at the cup. "I suppose you're right."
Having become accustomed only lately to this particular distracted look, Devon said, "In any event, I think that we are more alike than either one of us knew before. Ryan seems to have brought out the 'me' in you."
"He appeals to you not in the very least?"
"I don't think so, Mama. He makes me feel... unsettled! There have been moments when he's been nice or has made me laugh, but invariably he follows them with some horrid word or deed that makes me want to throw him overboard!" Lindsay paused, breathing deeply. "I think he enjoys goading me until I lose control...."
"And you are unused to that."
"Yes! Is that wrong? And am I wrong for disliking someone who torments me for his own amusement?"
"But, darling, do you not respond in kind?" Devon asked softly. "I have witnessed your verbal duels—you are an equal participant, not a victim. In fact, at the risk of incurring your wrath, your father and I suspect that you enjoy sparring with Ryan."
"What? That's ridiculous! Mama, he laughs at me! Half the time he treats me as if I'm twelve years old!"
"Well, sometimes one enjoys exercising one's wits..." Seeing that her daughter was about to protest, Devon held up her hand. "Obviously, I'm wrong and that isn't the case here. I'm truly sorry that Ryan's company is such a trial for you, my dear, but there's nothing to be done. I'm sure no one will think it odd if two supposed siblings cannot get along." Eyes twinkling, she added, "In fact, you may be more believable as a sister if you are ever looking daggers at Ryan. I'll be very surprised if London's female population doesn't swoon when he enters society. No doubt the consensus will be that only a sister could remain immune to the man's looks and charm."
Lindsay sniffed. "I suppose if one's taste runs to savages..."
"Oh, he'll look anything but savage by the time he appears in public in London. Which reminds me, I must see that Ryan's beard is shaved today, just in case we encounter anyone we know before we reach our house."
Brightening, Lindsay inquired, "Can I watch?"
Devon stood and brushed stray crumbs from her simple pale blue frock. "I suppose so, if he doesn't mind an audience—and you promise to behave yourself."
Following her mother toward the gangway, Lindsay murmured, "I wish that I might wield the razor..."
Before Devon could scold her, Ryan Coleraine leaned around the doorway. "Did I hear someone mention my name?"
"Eavesdropping again?" Lindsay asked.
"Children!" warned her mother, narrowing her eyes at both of them for good measure. "Now, then, Ryan dear, your appearance is very fortuitous. We were just about to go in search of you!"
"Does this have something to do with your plan to make me a fop?" Coleraine took a step backward into the gangway. "Madame, say that you won't squeeze me into a long-tailed coat and make me take snuff from an enameled box while I'm still on board ship! It would cause me no end of humiliation."
His display of mock terror amused Devon, but even as she laughed lightly, she caught his sleeve and held him fast. "Don't be silly, darling son... I only mean to shave your beard!"
"What?" Horrified, Ryan protected the lower half of his face with both hands. "It's apparent that you have been too long at sea, madame! You've been overtaken by strange fantasies!"
Off to one side, Lindsay mused, "How interesting. Don't you see, Mama, it's just like the story of Samson. Captain Coleraine is afraid that his manly powers will disappear if you rob him of this hirsute proof of his sex."
Noting the menacing glare Ryan slanted at her daughter, Devon laughed brightly. "Now, Lindsay, don't be foolish. Ryan was only teasing me, weren't you? And Lindsay is teasing you, Ryan!"
"Why, I wonder, do none of us look amused?" He arched a sharp black brow down at Devon.
"Well, it's just as you said. We've been too long at sea. But take heart! It's almost over, and soon you two will be enjoying yourselves in London." She patted the side of his closely-trimmed beard and felt his jaw clench. "As for this, I'm sure you realize that it is just a necessary precaution, in case we encounter anyone we know before reaching our house in London. Once we're there, we'll plead fatigue and begin preparing your masquerade in earnest, but now that beard must go. It makes you look far too menacing and masculine."
"Leave it to me, then."
"Nonsense!" Devon gave him her prettiest smile. "Andre has had several beards, all grown during sea voyages, and I became expert at shaving them. No valet could be more skilled. Now, come along to your cabin, then relax and put yourself in my hands."
"Such a request is a strong test of the affection I feel for you, madame," he murmured, "but lead on."
Devon passed him into the gangway, and Lindsay was following when he caught her arm and drew her back into the cabin with him. "So, I am afraid that my 'manly powers' will disappear along with this 'hirsute proof of my sex'?" Ryan hissed sarcastically, his grip tightening as he watched excitement and alarm mingle in her gray eyes. "Just to set the record straight, Miss Raveneau, this beard is not the only proof of my sex. Far from it! Do you wish further clarification? I wouldn't mind showing you—"
Her heart was thundering against her breastbone. "N-no! Of course not!" She tried to look defiant, praying that her cheeks were not afire. "Never have I encountered a baser man, sir. You are disgusting!"
"My apologies." Ryan tried not to betray his amusement. "I didn't realize that the prospect of seeing the hair on my chest would offend your maidenly sensibilities."
Lindsay couldn't meet his eyes. She pushed past, raging at herself for falling into his trap, while Ryan followed in her wake, chuckling softly.
* * *
Lindsay had been looking forward to gloating while her mother bared Ryan Coleraine's face. She'd wanted to toss him glances both mischievous and innocent as he submitted, helplessly vulnerable, to the razor. However, he effectively took the wind from her sails with his well-timed confrontation in her cabin. After that, she didn't want to look at him and that was just fine with Ryan.
He managed to cajole Devon into allowing him to help with his own shearing. She let him look into a mirror as she first used scissors to trim the neat black beard back to stubble, then applied shaving soap with his fine boar-bristle brush, and finally took out the sharpened razor. To his relief, Devon had told the truth: She shaved him beautifully, and Ryan only took over in areas he felt were especially tricky.
When they finished, he rubbed off the stray bits of soap with a towel and gave Devon a dubious look. "Well? Will you still claim me as a son?"
She was staring in delight, one hand pressed to her mouth as she thought, My God, how handsome he is! Ryan's beard had always conformed neatly to the shape of his jaw, but still she had been unprepared for the rakish, masculine beauty of his face.
"Why did you ever cover this up?" She reached out to trace the line of his cheekbone and chin.
"Just modest, I suppose," Ryan replied flippantly, then sighed. "It's just a lot of trouble to shave at sea, that's all."
"I was wrong about one thing. Removing that beard hasn't lessened the manliness of your face one iota... but, of course, it had to be done. London dandies do not wear beards." Devon gazed at him thoughtfully. "We'll just have to devise other means of making you look foppish...."
"No patches, please," he begged with a smile. "I draw the line at beauty marks."
Chapter 9
May 25-27, 1814
Evening proved to be so filled with activity that there was no opportunity for the newly formed family to sit down together for supper. Lindsay spent hours in her cabin packing books and clothing, and she knew that across the gangway Harvey was performing the same services for his employer. Meanwhile, the two captains were on deck, charting a safe, sure course to Falmouth and discussing the morning's schedule with the boatswain and first mate.
It was nearly midnight when Raveneau appeared in the doorway to Lindsay's cabin.
"I'm to bed, ma fille."
She smiled fondly at the sight of his handsome face. "Mama said good night barely a quarter hour ago, so you'll doubtless find her awake."
"Good. I've missed her this long evening." Wordlessly, he opened his arms and
folded Lindsay against his broad chest. "I've missed you as well. Truth to tell, I look forward to our interlude in London. Certainly there is serious work to be done there, but we should also be able to enjoy ourselves as a family, and there is a great deal in England to enjoy!"
"I can't wait to see Mouette!" Lindsay admitted, filled with a new excitement.
"She may not recognize you, cherie. You couldn't have been more than fourteen the last time she came to America!"
"I know. Perhaps we can be friends now." It was sometimes hard for Lindsay to realize that her sister was thirty-two years old and the mother of two sons. Lindsay had only been seven when Mouette fell in love with Sir Harry Brandreth, a young baronet, during a family visit to London. She'd married him that same summer and lived in England ever since. The war had made visits impossible during the past two years, and now Lindsay wondered often if she and Mouette might become close since she had bridged the gap to adulthood. Oddly enough, she felt shy about meeting her sister again, for she barely knew her.
"That's the spirit," Andre said approvingly. "Concentrate on the happy prospects for our sojourn in London while you wait for sleep tonight." Hugging her close, he kissed Lindsay's curls.
She wrapped her arms around him and held fast, inhaling her father's familiar scent and enjoying the feeling that he would take care of everything.
"Sleep well," Andre murmured gently.
"You too, Papa. Give Mama a kiss for me."
"Now there's a favor I'll gladly grant!" Smiling, he kissed her brow once more, then took his leave.
Alone again, Lindsay paced across the slightly swaying deck of her cabin, wide awake. Finally, she decided to go above, pushing aside the realization that she would find Ryan Coleraine there.
Emerging through the hatch, Lindsay looked up to see a magnificent display of stars scattered over the night sky. The air was fresh, with only a trace of chill, and she let her shawl drop backward to reveal her half-bare upper arms and shoulders.