Surrender the Stars (12 page)

The wind had whipped Lindsay's wet hair into his face as he crossed the deck. He remembered that now, along with the unfamiliar feeling of desperation that had gripped him. It still surprised Ryan when he realized how troubled he was by Lindsay's plight. She looked angelic, with her lips parted and long lashes brushing delicately sculptured cheeks, but he knew that she would be incensed that Ryan was staring at her in her helpless state.

Lindsay's right hand was turned palm-up on the bedclothes. Ryan felt a pang at the sight of it, so pale and soft. On an impulse, he laid his own brown forefinger over her cool palm and was surprised to see Lindsay's fingers curl around it.

"Ryan?" she whispered, her lashes fluttering open.

"Yes, Lindsay, I'm here." He reached out with his free hand to brush stray tendrils of strawberry-blond hair from her brow.

She turned her face against his hand. "I'm sorry... I've been so bad... I shouldn't be so bad to you."

"Nonsense," he replied warmly, smiling. When she tried to turn toward him, Ryan gently gathered her in his arms. "You're going to be just fine and then you can be as bad to me as you like. I won't mind a bit."

She smiled dreamily, nestling against his chest. "You're so strong...."

Ryan blinked. "You had better go back to sleep, little one, before you say something you'll regret later on."

After nearly managing a smile in return, she closed her eyes. For a long moment, Coleraine studied her sleeping face, then bent to kiss her brow gently. If Lindsay comprehended the touch of Ryan's lips, she gave no sign.

* * *

Peeking into her daughter's cabin, Devon discovered Cassie putting fresh linen on the bunk.

"Where is Lindsay? Ought she to be up?"

"She claims her headache has disappeared, ma'am," Cassie replied with a sigh and a shrug. "Insisted on dressing and going on deck, but I believe that Captain Coleraine intercepted her in the gangway."

"Well, four days have passed, so I suppose we couldn't expect to keep her down any longer."

"The reasonable girl I used to know would have been content to stay abed with a stack of books!"

Devon laughed. "What do you suppose has caused this transformation?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say Miss Lindsay was in love, but of course
that's
impossible! The only eligible candidate is Ryan Coleraine, and we all know well enough how she feels about
him."
Cassie sighed again and shook out a fresh sheet. "The man has only to open his mouth and she takes offense. Of course, Miss Lindsay has led a rather sheltered life, and she's never had to associate with anyone she didn't like, so perhaps it's just these enforced new circumstances that've exposed this new side of her."

"Perhaps..." It did seem to be the only logical explanation. "Do you know what, Cassie? As incorrigible as Lindsay can be these days, I like seeing her show spirit."

"I suppose you're right. There's no real cause for alarm as long as Captain Coleraine doesn't lose his temper and strangle the girl!"

"I'd better see to it that he isn't doing that very thing as we speak. She never appeared on deck, and Ryan isn't there, either. Where could they be?"

The sound of Lindsay's voice, raised in tones of outrage, answered Devon's question. Following it to the Irishman's cabin, she discovered the two of them seated at a small table, apparently engaged in a card game.

"You must be cheating!" Lindsay accused, her eyes flashing.

Coleraine lounged back in his chair and stretched his legs. A thin cheroot was lightly clenched between his white teeth as he reached out to discard a red king. One card remained in his hand, while she held two.

"It's typical of you, little sister, to assail my honor in an effort to distract attention from the real reason you're losing," he taunted sardonically.

"Don't say it, you rude beast!"

Ryan continued imperturbably, "It would be a sign of maturity for you simply to admit that your intelligence is no match for mine."

"What a
horrendous
thing to say!" Lindsay cried, coming halfway out of her chair. "Just because you have had more practice gambling, that does not mean that you are more intelligent than I. No doubt you have mastered
all
the vices!"

He feigned modesty. "You flatter me, Miss Raveneau, but I fear it takes a lifetime of practice to achieve that level of expertise."

"Wishful thinking!" she shot back, drawing an appreciative grin from her opponent.

"Gracious!" Devon exclaimed from the doorway. "It appears that you are recovered, my dear!"

"You have a way with an understatement, Mrs. Raveneau," Coleraine said dryly as he stood to welcome her. "Won't you join us?"

"Mama," Lindsay demanded, "have you ever encountered a more arrogant jackanapes in your life?"

"I don't mean to interrupt or disparage your intelligence, Miss Raveneau, but doesn't the word
jackanapes
usually refer to a male?" Ryan wondered, straight-faced.

"I'm talking about you!" She made a sound of extreme exasperation as the color heightened in her cheeks.

Devon looked on with a mixture of amazement and consternation. It was encouraging to see Lindsay so animated and rosy again, but she wondered if her behavior wasn't a bit extreme. Accepting the chair that Ryan held for her, she observed, "The pair of you are the outside of enough! Can you not exchange two consecutive civil remarks?"

"I hope you don't think I'm to blame," Lindsay protested, studying her cards. "You have heard for yourself how he goads me."

Ryan laughed outright at that, devils in his eyes.

"Perhaps he's just teasing you, darling. Try to rise above it." Devon's own mouth turned up under the spell of the man's charm. How could her daughter be immune? His looks alone were devastating. Her gaze drifted from his ruffled black curls down to his long-muscled legs sheathed in biscuit breeches and knee boots. Devon suppressed a maidenly sigh and looked over to discover Lindsay scowling at her cards. Trying a different tack, she inquired, "Are you two playing piquet?"

Ryan nodded, trying to look serious as he waited for his opponent to make her final, fatal discard.

"I didn't know that you were familiar with the game, Lindsay," she pursued.

The girl looked up, smoldering. "Well, I wasn't until an hour ago!" At her wit's end, Lindsay discarded a diamond only to have Ryan show her the club he'd been guarding. The game was his.

"That's three out of three," he murmured. "Will you yield?"

"But there's been no wager involved, has there?" Devon interjected.

"Your daughter insisted, Mrs. Raveneau."

"But what could she have offered?"

"My gold-embossed volume of William Blake against his first edition of Shelley," Lindsay mourned, inclining her head toward the two books reposing on the edge of the table.

"I think that, in view of your unfamiliarity with the game, we should postpone the wager until a later date," Ryan decided.

She narrowed her gray eyes suspiciously. "My word is good, sir."

"Captain Coleraine is right, Lindsay. With practice, you'll doubtless win easily! Save the books you both love for a more balanced confrontation."

"No!" she cried. "I won't be treated like a child! I made a wager and I mean to honor it." Lifting her chin, Lindsay held out the book. "Perhaps a dose of Blake will be good for your soul."

"Well, anything's possible." Ryan smiled. He accepted the volume he knew she treasured only out of deference to her pride. "Please feel free to borrow this whenever you wish. In fact"—he gestured casually toward the bookshelves that were as filled as her own—"I hope that you will avail yourself of any of these books—on the off chance that there might be something interesting that you do not already own."

Lindsay found it far easier to deal with his insolence than his kindness. "You needn't patronize me. I intend to win my book back and gain possession of many of yours before this voyage ends."

"I don't doubt that you'll try." He nodded, a spark of admiration in his eyes.

At that moment, when Devon was casting about wildly for a way to lighten the mood, Andre Raveneau appeared. "Well, isn't this a cozy scene!" he observed, bending to kiss first his wife and then his daughter. "How are you feeling,
ma fille?"

"Much better, Papa." She smiled, thawing visibly. "When I awoke today, my headache had vanished!"

"Well, that's good news! It's wonderful to see you up and dressed. What's going on here?"

"Captain Coleraine has been teaching me to play piquet," she answered as lightly as she was able.

"Excellent! I'm pleased that you two have declared a truce." He cocked an approving eyebrow at Ryan. "I knew that with a little time and effort you could become friends."

As if on cue, Cassie appeared with a tray of neatly sliced bread, meat, cheese, and apples surrounded by pewter mugs of red wine. "I thought you all might enjoy something to eat," she explained, placing the offering on the table.

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?"