Spring Fires (45 page)

Midnight,

September 3, 1793

Vauxhall Gardens rendered Lisette so spellbound that she was nearly distracted from worrying about the late hour and the fact that there had been no sign of Nicholai. An extended concert, featuring a celebrated soprano, had just ended, and the Raveneaus lingered with Lisette in a secluded supper box.

"Well, I suppose we should be leaving...." murmured Lisette. She nibbled at the last fresh sweet cherry on her plate. "I feel badly enough that the two of you have given up your evening for this vigil..."

Devon and Andre exchanged amused glances. "You have a lot to learn about London nightlife! The last time Andre and I were at Ranelagh, a pleasure garden farther up the river, it was three o'clock in the morning before we departed for home—and we were by no means the last!"

"But, you don't think that Nicholai could still make an appearance...?"

"Certainly! Now that the concert is over, there will be many new arrivals," Devon exclaimed.

"It's true," nodded Raveneau as he lounged back against the cushions. "Besides, I heard today at Brook's, the club where I joined a business associate, that Beauvisage had found lodging in Saint James Street. That could explain what occupied him during the concert; perhaps he's been moving." Raveneau gave his wife a sidelong glance that suggested he wouldn't have minded being otherwise occupied during the concert himself.

"If he's moving, he may be detained for the entire night," sighed Lisette. Andre was refilling her glass, so she lifted it for a few polite sips, then gazed out over the moonlit fantasy of Vauxhall Gardens. In this setting, it wasn't difficult to imagine that she was someone else; certainly Philadelphia and the CoffeeHouse with its regimen of austere discipline seemed part of a past life....

Before supper, Lisette had strolled with the Raveneaus over a portion of the twelve-acre gardens. The gravel walkways, bordered by high hedges and sculptured trees, led one past pavilions, temples, colonnades adorned with pillars and statues, and romantically secluded groves and grottoes. All were illuminated by countless lamps that hung like stars against the indigo sky.

"My instincts tell me that Mr. Beauvisage will yet appear tonight," Devon declared.

Lisette watched as her friend responded with a muffled giggle to some remark made by her husband, then nestled into his broad shoulder for more whispered banter. To avoid the appearance of watching them, Lisette studied her own elegantly clad form. Looking like this, she found it easier to pretend to be Giselle Amstetten, for Lisette Hahn would never have indulged in such luxury or spent hours making certain that each detail of her appearance was perfect. Secretly, she was having fun with the opportunity to indulge all the frivolous impulses denied for so many years.

"After all the time and effort we took to make you look so incredibly magnificent for your first encounter with Nicholai, he simply
must
turn up tonight!" Devon exclaimed suddenly, as if reading Lisette's mind.

The gown they had chosen was a fairy tale creation of creamy satin with ruffles above the hem and a wide gold sash that set off both Lisette's slim waist and the low neckline that artfully framed her breasts with a lace ruffle. The sleeves were long, edged with more exquisite lace, and she wore no fichu, only a soft cashmere shawl shot with golden threads. Devon had contributed her own stunning necklace of gold, diamonds, and pearls with matching earrings, and emeralds and diamonds flashed with each movement of Lisette's elegant fingers. Since Nicholai would be seeing her in the moonlight, they had decided to leave her hair unpowdered, but the hairdresser had intricately woven a fillet of cloth-of-gold through Lisette's gleaming curls. He also created a froth of curls along her brow, a touch that was not only fashionable, but that also made her look exceedingly different from the Lisette who wore an austere crown of braids.

To further ensure that she would not be recognized, they had applied just enough powder and rouge to enhance some of the shadows of Lisette's face without tarnishing her radiant beauty. The patch was replaced, a shimmery rose lip salve added, and light blue powder brushed onto each translucent eyelid to make her eyes look even richer and larger than before. Even the arch of her eyebrows had been delicately heightened. The effect was dramatic. With her slim graceful poise and elegant features, Lisette looked like a queen.

Observing the wistful disappointment that flickered over her friend's face, Devon turned to her husband. "Andre, won't you go out and take a turn around the gardens? Perhaps Mr. Beauvisage is elsewhere, hiding from the
comtesse...."

Raveneau turned his head toward the supper box some distance away, where Gabrielle Marchandon had been ensconced with the Whitloafs all through the concert. "I believe I am about to be saved the trouble," he remarked.

Indeed, Gabrielle had risen and was making her way onto the lawn. At first, their eyes were drawn to her sumptuous gown of lavender silk; then Lisette's back straightened and her head turned toward the shadowy trees in the distance. She shivered.

"My dear, what is it?" inquired Devon. "Are you ill?"

"It's... I see him. Nicholai is here," she managed to whisper.

"Where? I can't see anyone except that overbearing duke of Chedringham and—"

"He's there, on the far side; barely clear of the trees."

Devon peered obediently into the darkness. "How can you tell? All I can make out is the faintest silhouette—"

"I just
know."
Lisette's voice was barely audible. "I knew even before I saw him."

"You women!" Raveneau marveled, ironically amused. "With such magical powers, no wonder you think you're always right."

Devon cuffed his arm. "Do be serious. You have a task to perform!"

"Mon Dieu!
I was hoping you would forget my part in this outrageous masquerade," he groaned.

Lisette, meanwhile, felt positively ill. Watching as Gabrielle's shadow merged with Nicholai's under the spreading branches of an oak tree, she wondered what madness had possessed her these past months. When Devon nudged her, she made a low sound of fearful dread.

"Why am I here? This is insane!"

"You are here to captivate the man you love!" Devon declared fervently. "For heaven's sake, this is no time to lose your nerve, Lisette! Don't forget, Andre will be with you every step of the way, and I won't be far behind. Every detail of our plan has been carefully thought out and I am positive that nothing can go awry!"

Raveneau had been studying Lisette's increasingly pale countenance. Now, he came around the table and leaned down to take her hand. His own cool fingers touched the perspiration on her palm and his heart went out to her.

"Courage!" His smile was one that made most females forget all else. In this case, it did seem to reassure Lisette. "Have I mentioned that you are the most beautiful woman here tonight, Fraulein Amstetten? I beg you to honor me by taking my arm for a stroll in the moonlight."

She sighed loudly, swallowed, then cast a last look over at Devon. "Oh..."

"Stop that! You will be fine! Just listen to Andre and remember that you have a role to play. Concentrate on that!" Devon gave her a little push. "Go on!"

Raveneau pulled her gently to her feet and hooked an arm around her slender waist for support. They began to walk slowly, the long way around the sweeping open lawn toward the far-off twin silhouettes of Nicholai and Gabrielle.

After a moment, Lisette summoned her strength and moved his arm to her side, slipping her hand around the hard strength of his forearm. Raveneau was looking especially handsome tonight in an expertly tailored coat of dove gray over a dark blue waistcoat and a cravat so white that it seemed to gleam in the moonlight against his bronzed face. Lisette was conscious of the stares of passersby—some envious, some frankly questioning.

"Do you know these people?" she whispered finally, after one matron came to a dead stop and narrowed accusing eyes at them.

"Not by choice, I assure you! However, even though our entrees into London society have been few and far between, Devon was an instant success and remains highly popular."

Lisette smiled. "No doubt she is popular with most, but I get the feeling that many of these females wouldn't mind it if you began seeking... outside amusements."

"Since I never have, you shall become famous as the temptress who lured me away from my wife, Fraulein Amstetten."

After another nervous sigh, Lisette fell silent for a long minute.

"Where's the confident, free-spirited woman I admire so?" whispered Raveneau at length. He reached over to touch her cheek with his free right hand.

"I—I feel a fool! Dressed like this, wearing Devon's jewels, with all this paint—and this silly patch! To have chased after Nicholai all this way—"

"You aren't a fool. You are a woman in love, with the courage to reach out for that love. You're strong, Lisette. This is just one more area of life that you will succeed in. Love is certainly as important as work, isn't it?"

She nodded mutely.

"Then stop doubting yourself. If you have to, pretend that you're carrying on at the CoffeeHouse in the wake of some personal crisis. Put on a mask... only this time, you are Giselle Amstetten, an old friend of Devon's who is flirting outrageously with me." Raveneau tipped her chin to meet his dancing silvery gaze. "Frankly, I suspect that this entire charade is fraught with possibilities for fun!"

She smiled in spite of herself. "That's true... but I am terrified that Nicholai will know me immediately, so what is uppermost in my mind are the possibilities for humiliation!"

Privately, Raveneau agreed. He knew that Devon could walk into a room completely concealed under a cloak and veils and still he would know her. However, now that the two women had concocted this wild scheme and had progressed this far, there seemed nothing for it.

"Nonsense! Remember that we men are quite dim when it comes to instinctively sensing these things. Not a bit like you females. You look and sound a completely different woman. All Beauvisage will see is a resemblance that should be excruciatingly tantalizing!"

Feeling her hand tighten on his arm, he looked over to find that they were just a few yards away from Beauvisage and the Frenchwoman. "Now, don't stare!" he cautioned.

Lisette could only swallow audibly and nod.

"He's looking very well," whispered Andre, smiling in spite of himself.

Her heart in her throat, Lisette let her gaze caress Nicholai one more time. Bathed in moonlight, he looked more attractive and irresistible than even she had remembered. A flawlessly tailored biscuit frock coat showed his wide shoulders and lean hips to advantage. A snowy jabot accentuated his dark reckless face, while starlit hair lay in casual ruffles. Yellow nankeen breeches skimmed the lean muscles of his thighs, meeting glossy boots below the knee.

"Yes..." she murmured, looking up into Raveneau's slightly amused eyes. "He's looking better than ever!"

"The farther apart, the dearer the heart..." he said dryly. "And now,
cherie,
you are supposed to have eyes for only me!"

Lisette caught a glimpse of Gabrielle's pale hand reaching toward Nicholai's cheek and her resolve flooded back. "But of course, Captain Raveneau! What female alive could resist you?" Her accent was liltingly German, her smile radiant. "If only we could be truly alone..."

They were standing less than a dozen feet from Nicholai now, and Andre was getting caught up in the spirit of the masquerade.
It was hard not to in the presence of such enchantment. Lifting Lisette's soft hands, he kissed them both and slanted a rakish grin into her startled eyes.

"Fraulein Amstetten, I wish for solitude as much as you... but unfortunately we are being watched, so do smile and pretend that you welcome my attentions...."

Indeed, Nicholai had noticed them. After a brief disbelieving stare, he had tried to concentrate on what Gabrielle was saying, but to no avail. That woman with Andre Raveneau—God, how keenly she reminded him of Lisette! First the vision in the landau that morning, and now this. Was he going mad? Glancing over again, Nicholai shook his head slightly. No, of course it was impossible. This woman was dressed in an expensive, revealing, fashionable gown. Jewels glittered against her throat, ears, hands. Her hair, of a color he couldn't pinpoint in the darkness, was coiffed in the sort of elaborate style Lisette deplored. Finally, this stranger was playing the coquette with a married man at midnight in London's Vauxhall Gardens.

Of course it was impossible. Laughable, in fact. Clearly, he missed her even more than he realized.

"Mon cher,"
Gabrielle was imploring, "have you been hearing even a word of what I am saying? Why do you look at those other people?" She couldn't have been more frustrated. First, Nicholai had not arrived until after midnight—when she had planned each moment, each word, each touch and kiss so painstakingly. And now that her scheme to recapture his love was in motion, Nicholai was being rude enough to stare at that insignificant Austrian woman!

"I—" Momentarily, he was at a loss for words. "Ah—I was just about to speak to Andre Raveneau." Wondering how to finish the sentence, it suddenly occurred to him that this mysterious female who so resembled Lisette might be Raveneau's
wife!

At the sound of his own name, Andre glanced over casually. "Well—Beauvisage!" he exclaimed. "What a surprise!"

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Raveneau." He guided Gabrielle toward the other couple and sketched a short bow.

"If I had known that your wife were such a vision of loveliness, I would have made a point of meeting her sooner."

Raveneau managed a creditable expression of uneasiness. "I don't blame you for saying so, Mr. Beauvisage, but this beautiful lady is not my wife, but a very dear friend." He gave Nicholai a slight confidential wink. "May I present Fraulein Giselle Amstetten? The turmoil in Europe forced her to flee to London, and we only wish to assist her in settling into society as painlessly as possible." He turned to Lisette, who had dropped her eyes before Nicholai's unwavering regard. "Fraulein, this is Nicholai Beauvisage and—"