Surrender the Stars (15 page)

This fortress built by Nature for herself...

This precious stone set in the silver sea...

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England....

—William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

Chapter 10

Falmouth to London, England

May 27-June 1, 1814

At dawn, Lindsay climbed the ladder through the main hatch and discovered that
La Mouette
was safely anchored in the misty harbor of Falmouth. Her parents chatted with Ryan Coleraine, Harvey Jenkins, and Cassie and Able Barker on the quarterdeck, but she made her way to the bow of the ship, longing to survey her new surroundings undistracted.

In truth, Lindsay was embarrassed to face Ryan, especially in the company of her parents. It seemed that she hadn't slept all night, for now, on top of her worries about the unknown fate that awaited her in London, there were these horrid new snarls in her relationship with Ryan to ponder. In the cool light of morning, Lindsay felt like slapping herself for her behavior under the midnight stars. How could she have been so...
wanton
? Especially with Ryan Coleraine? He was the one man she wished to keep ignorant of her feminine desires, and yet she had clung to him, pressed herself against him, trembled at his kiss.... Almost as galling was the memory of all the other women who had succumbed to his charm. She had lowered herself into their company, reinforcing his already insufferable conceit.

That was probably the only reason he had kissed her at all. Ryan was accustomed to having a willing female in his arms, and after these weeks at sea his appetite must have been quite strong. She had been the only suitable woman available....

Flushing anew with humiliation, Lindsay gripped the bow rail and looked out at the English shore. The small basin of the harbor was filled with at least two dozen ships, mostly packets, and was surrounded by softly undulating green hills dotted with grazing cattle. The first thing that struck her was the virtual absence of trees, for she was used to Connecticut's pervasive woods.

"That's Falmouth," an all-too-familiar voice said behind her shoulder, as an equally familiar tanned forefinger pointed toward an ugly cluster of little houses on their left.

Lindsay couldn't breathe for a moment, then pride reared up and came to her rescue. "So I assumed." She turned to face Ryan directly, trying not to notice how handsome he looked in snug buckskins, polished boots, and a tailored dark blue jacket. His cravat, tied simply yet expertly, was snowy-white in contrast to the bronzed line of his jaw, and Lindsay was keenly aware of the intensity of his crisp blue gaze. "Good morning. Should I call you Nathan now?"

He winced slightly. "Is that any way to treat a friend? The only peace I'll have these next few months will be when I'm alone with you and your parents. You must allow me to be Ryan Coleraine when no one's watching."

His tone was light, and she was relieved that he wasn't taunting her with veiled references to their midnight interlude. Still, it seemed to Lindsay that his turns of phrase were laced with double entendres. Or was she imagining things? Confused and upset, she turned back to the rail. "You can be whomever you please in private, sir. It matters to me not at all. Remember, though, that I shall have a new life of my own to deal with in London, and I would only hope that I don't forget and call you by the wrong name."

His brows raised slightly at Lindsay's convincing air of detachment. "Perhaps we can say that Ryan is your pet name for me," he suggested, teasing gently.

Lindsay blushed involuntarily and cursed herself as she sensed his amusement. "I beg your pardon!"

"It's a common practice, isn't it? Little children garbling relatives' names and then continuing to use them out of habit... or affection?"

She was saved from replying by the approach of her parents. "Good morning, sweetheart!" Devon greeted her, adding a hug and a kiss. "Your father and I were just saying how relieved we are that you two are getting along."

Andre nodded. "Just don't take advantage of the situation, Coleraine! Lindsay is to be your
sister."

Laughing ruefully, Ryan murmured, "If I should have a lapse of memory, I'm certain Lindsay will hasten to remind me."

Father, mother, and daughter stood together at the rail chatting about Pendennis Castle, which was situated behind them on a mound near the entrance to the harbor. Ryan drifted off to one side where he could look at Lindsay unobserved. In spite of her obvious uneasiness, she was more beautiful than ever, and he wondered what part her newly discovered passions played in her glow. She wore a short, fitted blue spencer over a dove-gray traveling gown that was highlighted by a pretty white ruffle encircling her neck. How soft and sweet-smelling her neck was, Ryan remembered with a pang. Lindsay's curls were swept up and covered by a charming scoop-brimmed straw bonnet that tied under her chin, but a cloud of tendrils framed her delicate face and set off her long-lashed gray eyes.

Suddenly, she turned and met his eyes, and the rosy color in her cheeks deepened. Ryan stared back unapologetically.

"Is everyone ready?" Raveneau asked. "It's time to go ashore."

"And thence... to London!" exclaimed Devon. "Of course we're ready! Who
knows
what adventures await us!"

* * *

The seven travelers followed a northeasterly route to London, the women traveling in a fine carriage that Raveneau hired in Falmouth, while Able and Harvey shared the box with the driver and Andre and Ryan rode on horseback. In spite of Cornwall's narrow, crooked roads that zigzagged up and down the treeless moors and softly rolling hills, their progress was rapid. Everywhere they saw evidence of Cornwall's abundance of mines but could not afford the time to inspect them.

In Falmouth, Andre and Ryan had learned that the war with Napoleon was over, and rumors flew that the czar would soon visit London in the company of other members of European royalty. Devon was anxious that they reach the city as soon as possible. The social events surrounding the royal visit would provide perfect opportunities for the Raveneau family to take their place quietly among society, but first there were innumerable purchases to be made, tailors and dressmakers to be called in, and, most important, Ryan's role as a fop to be perfected.

And so they bowled through Exeter, then Bristol, admiring the countryside with its estates spreading wide and low over fine lawns contrasting with neat thatched farmhouses smothered in flowers. By the time they reached Bath, a beautiful town built of cream-colored freestone, even Devon was ready to relax and rest at the elegant White Hart Inn, where the food was delectable and servants anticipated their every need.

Out of Bath, the roads widened, and from time to time the River Avon could be seen below, curling amidst swaying willows and crossed here and there with moss-covered bridges of gray stone. Lindsay stared as they passed villas and mansions with classical facades and creeper-framed windows, set among clipped lawns and trees. Everything seemed so tidy and well tended, even the most modest farms and the wildflower-drenched meadows. It appeared to her that the neat hedgerows, the fields of yellow mustard, the immense flocks of sheep, and the groves of chestnut merging into blue horizons had all been planned down to the last detail.

On the first day of June, Lindsay awoke from a midafternoon nap to discover that the view out her carriage window was vastly altered.

"We've arrived in London, sweetheart," Devon told her with a smile. "This is Oxford Street."

Too excited even to reproach her mother for not rousing her sooner, Lindsay stared in fascination as they rolled through the wide thoroughfare crowded with vehicles of every description. Her father and Ryan rode just ahead on horseback, chatting amiably as they took in their surroundings. Soon they led the way south on Park Lane, which skirted the eastern boundary of lush, enormous Hyde Park.

Park Lane was lined with magnificent homes and uniform gray-brick town houses. The Raveneau carriage turned east on Upper Brook Street and soon drew up before a house in Grosvenor Square. Lindsay dimly recognized it from her childhood. Like most of the others she had seen, it was a sober yet elegant four-story structure with a freestone-bordered sash and white pillars on either side of the pedimented doorway. She smiled at the sight of the polished lion-mask knocker on the beautifully molded door, remembering the trepidation it had caused her as a child.

"We're home," Andre announced, opening the carriage door and holding out a hand to assist the ladies.

"I must be dreaming!" Cassie breathed. "Able, have you ever seen a grander place?"

While Andre and Devon assured the two servants that their town house was quite modest in comparison to most in this fashionable section of London, Lindsay stole a glance at Ryan Coleraine. He stood off to one side, lightly holding his horse's reins as he surveyed his new home with deceptive casualness. His top boots and buckskins were dusty, his face tanned, his black hair wind-blown. Feeling Lindsay's gaze, he turned and met it squarely, then strolled to her side.

"So, this is where we'll begin our new life together," Ryan murmured, a hint of suggestive mischief in his voice. "Who would have ever predicted this a few short weeks ago when I was carrying you over my shoulder down Main Street in far-off Connecticut?"

"Certainly not I," Lindsay replied lightly. "I find it astonishing—the sacrifices one makes to help one's country."

He grinned as the driver took his reins, and he and Lindsay started toward the house with her parents. Harvey and the Barkers brought up the rear. Realizing that this brief exchange had been the first opportunity he and Lindsay had had to speak alone since leaving Falmouth, it dawned on Ryan that he had missed her tart wit. In fact, though he hated to admit it even to himself, he liked Lindsay. She might be an infuriating brat far too often, but it was impossible to dislike or ignore her. It seemed to Ryan that even his moments of annoyance or anger with her were tinged with an affection that he hadn't experienced in the past.

As they reached the door, Lindsay touched her father's shoulder and asked, "May I knock?"

"Ah, of course—I remember!" Andre said with a chuckle. "You used to be afraid to touch the lion's mask, weren't you? And now you're all grown up and filled with courage, hmm?"

"I'd forgotten all about it," she replied, eyes a-twinkle. "But now, remembering, I would like to use the knocker myself..."

Her parents stood aside to give Lindsay room, and she stepped forward, pausing for a moment as the child that lived on in her rose to the surface. Then she smiled and lifted the lion's mouth, letting it fall with an echoing thud. A few moments passed and then the door opened slowly to reveal a bent, wizened old man clad in funereal black. Wisps of white hair were combed over the pale crown of his head, while his long face, covered with a network of tiny wrinkles, was dominated by tiny, keen blue eyes and an incongruously pink nose.

The little man stared for barely a moment, then opened the door completely and rasped, "Welcome home, Captain Raveneau, Mrs. Raveneau," as if their sudden appearance on the doorstep were nothing out of the ordinary.

"Hello, Roderick! It's so good to see you!" Devon went forward to kiss the butler's cheek.

"I realize that this must be a surprise," Raveneau said, shaking Roderick's hand with a familiarity that made the man highly uneasy, "but we weren't able to send word that would have reached you before our arrival." He followed his wife into the entry hall, then gestured to the others. "Roderick, you remember our daughter, Lindsay, and our son, Nathan, don't you? Doubtless they've changed considerably over the years."

Caught momentarily off guard, Ryan recovered without missing a beat. Although he realized that his appearance belied the persona he was to adopt, he managed all the same to raise an eyebrow lazily and relax his body into what he hoped was a fair imitation of bonelessness.