Surrender the Stars (21 page)

"I find it rather mystifying that all of London would want to turn out to greet European royalty!" Lindsay said. "It's not as if the English have much in common with them. What's the attraction?"

Raveneau smiled back at his daughter. "You're sounding more and more like your mother in her youth!" He chuckled as they turned south on Park Lane. Across from them, lush green branches curved above the walls enclosing Hyde Park. "I think that the English are caught up in this precisely
because
they feel that these visitors are foreign and exotic. Plus, there's the desire for celebration now that the war is over. What better excuse than a visit from some of Britain's allies in the struggle against Napoleon?"

They continued in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sunny June afternoon. Lindsay walked with her gloved hand snug in the crook of Ryan's arm, their paces matched. She liked the sensation of his tall, hard body against her slim arm and glanced over occasionally to watch the play of muscles in his white-clad thighs as he walked.

Soon, the quartet turned left onto Piccadilly, following the flagstone footpath that was crowded with pedestrians. It wasn't far to the Pulteney Hotel. Across the way was Green Park with its docile deer and cattle, the white-stuccoed Ranger's Lodge among the trees, and, in the distance, Buckingham House's redbrick facade framed by abbey towers and Surrey hills.

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."