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Authors: Cynthia Wright

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"How do you do?" he drawled.

The butler glanced from Lindsay to Ryan, then back again. "I wouldn't have known either of you." He paused to clear his throat. "But I'm glad you're both grown up. Far too headstrong in the past."

At that moment, two women approached from the back of the house. One was quite old, stern, and sour-faced. The other was younger, in her thirties, Ryan judged, and excessively plain though intelligent and kind-looking. Amidst the round of introductions that followed, he learned that the older woman was Mrs. Butter, Roderick's wife, and the younger woman was their daughter, Arabella. It appeared that the mother was now in charge of the kitchen, while Arabella had taken over the duties of housekeeper. These London servants seemed relatively unruffled by the sudden arrival of the Raveneaus, but it was apparent to Ryan that Mrs. Butter resented Cassie and Able's appearance in a house that she considered her own. When Cassie cheerfully announced that she had brought with her all of Captain Raveneau's favorite recipes, Mrs. Butter's mouth puckered into a tight knot.

"Indeed?" she replied frostily. "I have overseen meals for this family for thirty years without one complaint."

Devon intervened. "Cassie only wants to help, Mrs. Butter, and she and her husband were longing to return to England, where they were born. I'm sure you'll be happy to have some assistance with meals, since Arabella will be occupied with other household duties. No doubt Roderick will be glad of Able's help as well. We mean to bring this house alive! The Season has begun and our children are eager to partake of society. It will be a busy summer for all of us!"

She turned to Arabella only to discover the young woman staring at Ryan as if she were having a vision. "Arabella, would you show Nathan and Lindsay their rooms? They may have forgotten the way after so long. Mrs. Butter, please assemble the rest of the staff, from parlor maids to potboy. I'll meet with them directly. Doubtless they've forgotten they have employers! And Roderick, please send a stableboy to fetch my daughter, Mouette. We're all very anxious to see her!"

* * *

Ryan rubbed a towel over the crisp black hair that covered his tapering chest, then tossed the damp linen next to the bathtub. It felt good to be shaved and scrubbed after the long days of dusty roads and quick, tepid baths in inns. Refreshed, Ryan was able to survey his surroundings without feeling as if he were in a dream.

It had been years since he had inhabited rooms so fine. Shrugging into a white muslin shirt, his gaze wandered over pale green walls and thick Chinese carpets with designs in cream and wine against a green background. The furnishings were in the style of Adam and Sheraton: a mahogany chest of drawers, two gilt chairs in front of the tall windows, a bachelor folding dressing table complete with mirror, a half-filled bookcase, and a handsome bed with cream and green draperies and Grecian keys carved into the tester-frame.

It was an elegant, masculine room, probably owing to Devon's taste , since Nathan had been in his teens the last time he stayed here. The clothes hanging in the dressing room were dated, and the few books on the shelves revealed only one aspect of his progressing character. They were all about ships, navigation, and astronomy, and Ryan looked forward to filling in the spaces with his own eclectic volumes.

"Ryan? May I come in?" It was Devon, knocking quietly at his door.

He fastened the last button on smooth biscuit-colored pantaloons and went to greet her. "Ah, Mother!" His voice was full of laughter. "How kind of you to call!"

"It's encouraging to see that you haven't lost your sense of humor," she told him, smiling as she followed Ryan inside and took one of the chairs near the tall windows. The right casement was pushed open to admit a warm and fragrant June breeze. "Hold on to it. The ability to laugh at life will save you needless frustration in the weeks to come."

"Surely you don't mean to suggest that our sojourn in London might be less than constantly entertaining...?" Ryan peered into the dressing-table mirror as he spoke, deftly tying his cravat in a simple yet elegant style, while his twinkling eyes belied his words.

"May I be frank with you?" Devon asked suddenly.

He straightened, brows raised, then took the chair opposite hers. "Of course."

"Andre and I are both very honest people and this entire charade goes against the grain for both of us. None of our family is good at lying, and I sense that you are not that sort, either." Devon paused and stared out the window for a moment, her curls glowing in the sunlight. "The fact is, though, that this must be done. If there is a traitor in London's glittering nest, then he must be rooted out."

"I agree," Ryan replied simply.

"I know you do, or you wouldn't be here now. I just wanted to say these things to you so that you would understand that this is much more than a game as far as we are concerned. I
had
to call you Nathan in front of the servants because we must keep the circle of those who know the truth limited to our immediate family. I certainly trust the Butters, but I also am well aware that mistakes can be made."

"I understand." Ryan nodded.

"Good. And I suppose that you also understand that my plan to turn you into a full-fledged London dandy is more serious than fanciful. If we seem to be having fun with it, it's only because we're a family that loves to laugh, not because we are using you to provide amusement."

Ryan's blue eyes sparkled. "Are you anticipating another unbecoming scene between your daughter and me?"

"Well, partly, perhaps," Devon allowed. "Lindsay is young, younger than I was at her age. She has knowledge gleaned from books but little awareness of the real the world. I think that underneath the shield she holds out in front of herself, she likes you."

He grinned. "I think you're right, Devon. And, if you'll promise to keep this a secret, I will tell you that I like Lindsay, too. We may not always get along, but we are already friends. To my mind, that's an unbreakable bond."

"I'm glad to hear you say so." She stared hard at Ryan, but his expression remained relaxed and half amused. "It's good to know that you are feeling a family bond. It may save Lindsay's life if you should be tempted to wring her neck in the future. However, at the moment, another trial awaits you. Our elder daughter, Mouette, is here, full of advice regarding your transformation into a fop. Can you endure it?"

Ryan laughed. "Madame, you are speaking to a man who has done battle at sea! How trying can conversation with another of your daughters be?"

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

June 1, 1814

 

"Nathan!" A beautiful, black-haired woman ran to Ryan the instant he appeared in the doorway to Andre and Devon's private sitting room. Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him hard, then drew back to grin mischievously at his startled expression. "How you've changed! I wouldn't have recognized you."

He took his cue from her playful demeanor. "I, on the other hand, could never forget my gloriously lovely older sister. How are you, Mouette?" Out of the corner of an eye, Ryan noticed Lindsay sitting near the window, watching intently. For her benefit, he returned Mouette's hug with decidedly unbrotherly enthusiasm. She began to giggle in his arms, finally pushing free and cuffing his chest.

"I like you!"

"Remember, you're a married woman,
cherie
," Andre said wryly as he entered from the bedroom.

"Married but not dead, Papa!" Mouette's expression was merry as she stood back and looked Ryan over. "Mmm. My, my. Very nice! By the time we finish with you, you may lend a whole new meaning to the word
dandy!
I don't think I've ever seen a finer pair of legs on a man!"

Raveneau cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon?"

"Except of course, for you, Papa!" she amended. "That goes without saying."

Across the room, Lindsay shifted uneasily on the settee as she watched her sister and Ryan. Even though she was now grown herself, she still regarded Mouette as the perfect female; prettier, more self-assured, and more charming than she could ever hope to be. She was tall, but not too tall, and her body was slim and curvaceous all at once. Her gown of pink-and-white-

striped muslin was doubtless the very latest fashion, cut low in front to flatter her bosom and ruffled at the hemline to display Mouette's well-turned ankles. No freckles dusted her rose-and-cream complexion. Her blue eyes sparkled with wit while the sun gleamed off her artfully arranged ebony curls. Even her laughter was beguiling. At least
Ryan
found it so. Lindsay could hardly believe that he would flirt so openly with Mouette in full view of her parents.

Of course, it wouldn't do him any good. Mouette might tease, but it was all in fun. She was happily married to Harry Brandreth, a mother of two boys, and, most important, a person of character. Even if it were fashionable for married people to engage in clandestine love affairs, Mouette would never do such a thing. Lindsay smiled a little to herself as she imagined Ryan attempting to seduce her sister and receiving a firm set-down. It would do him good!

Still, Mouette should not have encouraged him even this tiny bit. Lindsay wished she would stop touching his sleeve and laughing so gaily at each of Ryan's utterances.

Fortunately, distraction intervened in the form of afternoon tea. Arabella Butter wheeled in the cart herself, blushing deeply when Ryan nodded and smiled at her.

The family chose places in the grouping of gilt chairs and two settees upholstered in peach and ivory while Devon poured tea, adding milk or lemon according to each person's taste.

Ryan had seated himself next to Lindsay on one of the settees, amused by her show of indifference. He let his arm brush hers repeatedly, but her only reaction was the involuntary flush that spread over her cheekbones. Tiring of her refusal even to acknowledge his presence, Ryan nonchalantly set down his cup and saucer and pretended to search for something in his left outside coat pocket. Since their bodies were nearly touching, it was easy enough to pinch Lindsay's backside lightly without being seen.

Her face turned instantly and stormy gray eyes blazed into his as she hissed, "Captain Coleraine!"

Ryan smiled politely. "It's kind of you to notice me, sister."

Across from them, Mouette was helping herself to a generous slice of gooseberry tart. "I shouldn't, I know, but this is an occasion!" she declared happily. "I've a weakness for tarts, just like Lord Alvaney. He is so fond of cold apricot tart that his chef keeps one on the sideboard every day of the year! Do you remember Alvaney, Papa? He's quite wonderful, I think. Great fun, a consummate dandy, and he gives the most marvelous dinner parties."

"Yes, I remember him," her father said, looking as if he'd like to change the subject.

"Alvaney's a great favorite at the clubs, especially White's. You remember their betting book, don't you, Papa? Some of the bets have become utterly ridiculous. Harry told me that last week, during a rain shower, two of the members bet on which of their chosen raindrops would first reach the bottom of the windowpane!" Mouette paused to giggle and taste her tart, then continued, "Silly, isn't it? Of course, I haven't seen it myself; I have to rely on Harry for such gossip."

Mouette chattered on in an apparent effort to bring everyone up-to-date on all the current London news. Seeing that all eyes were focused on her sister, Lindsay shifted her cup and saucer to her left hand, then carefully slipped her right hand inside Ryan's slate-colored frock coat. His side was lean and hard, but she did her best, digging thumb and forefinger into the flesh under his waistcoat and shirt in an effort to return his pinch.

Ryan's reaction was less than she had hoped for. He found Lindsay's hand and brought it out; then, still holding her fingers, he inquired, "Have you lost something?"

Their eyes locked, his dancing with devils, hers smoldering like those of a sulky child. "Let
go
of me!" Lindsay yanked her hand away forcefully, only to find that he had released her so that she lost her balance for a moment, causing tea to splash into her saucer.

The others looked over at them curiously and Mouette laughed with delight. "Look, Mama! Isn't it cute? Already they behave like true siblings!"

Willing herself not to blush again, Lindsay reached for a seedcake and ate it rapidly. Her mother, meanwhile, appeared glad to hear the introduction of a more pertinent topic of conversation.

"Do you think, then, that we shall be successful in our plan to pass Ryan off as Nathan?"

"Nathan the dandy?" Mouette's eyes twinkled as she regarded Ryan Coleraine. "I don't mean to be outrageous, but since we are all family now, it seems best to speak frankly. Captain Coleraine is the
last
person I would think of as a fop. I mean, just look at the man. He is masculinity personified! However, if he means to cooperate, it may be possible. I happen to know an exemplary French valet whose employer was recently killed in the war. If we can borrow his services, I might be so bold to suggest that between the two of us, a physical transformation could be accomplished within the week. As for the rest..." Mouette shrugged impishly, her black curls glowing in the amber sunlight. "The rest depends on Ryan's dramatic abilities. We haven't much time, but if he will truly make an effort, success is possible."

BOOK: Surrender the Stars
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