Surrender the Stars (40 page)

"Into? That's easy. You've gotten yourself into love, Captain Coleraine!"

"Ah-ha. I suppose that's why I'm suffering and having fun all at the same time?"

"Exactly!" Lindsay grinned, then widened her eyes in alarm. "Ryan, what are you doing to that pigeon?"

He paused in the act of hitting one of the legs with a wooden mallet. "I'm beating it to pieces, just as you ordered."

"They don't mean it literally!" Lindsay was about to launch into a tirade when she saw the laughter in his eyes. "You shouldn't tease me, you know. It's very bad of you."

Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him sensually. For one brief instant, Lindsay imagined what her mother would do and say if she could see them now, but the sensation of Ryan's tongue touching her own banished all thoughts.

Behind them, the meat, vegetables, and herbs had begun to bubble in the stew pan. "We forgot the pepper and mace, angel," Ryan muttered softly against her mouth.

"Are they important?" she wondered in dreamy tones.

"Probably not." He couldn't help chuckling at the sight of her languid expression. "But it might be advisable to add them all the same."

"Particularly since the Butters are coming in from the carriage!" Cassie announced from the doorway.

They broke apart again just as the stillroom door opened to admit Mrs. Butter, who was supported by the wizened Roderick and Harvey Jenkins. The old woman sniffed loudly, surveyed the kitchen scene, and demanded, "Who's been tampering with my recipe for chestnut soup?" She glared at Cassie. "It's you, I'll wager! Since the day you arrived from America, you've been lurking about, waiting to get into my kitchen! Well, it won't answer! If you think I'm a sick old woman, you have another think coming!"

"You mustn't blame Cassie!" Lindsay exclaimed, stepping forward. "If the soup doesn't smell right, it's my fault. Nathan and I were trying to help in your absence—and Cassie's only just returned from Covent Garden!"

"Smell
right?" Mrs. Butter echoed. "I can tell you one thing, Miss Proper American Lady! Things haven't smelled right around here for quite a while!"

With that, her family led her off to bed. Harvey remained stranded in the kitchen with the others, clasping and unclasping his hands. Finally, he glanced at his employer, pursed his lips, and raised heavy brows in an unspoken yet eloquent question. Ryan turned away.

"There's nothing wrong with this soup," he muttered stubbornly, lifting one lid and then the other. "All it needs is some pepper and mace—and besides, it smells fine to me. It just isn't finished yet!"

Looking from Cassie to Harvey and then at Ryan's back, Lindsay didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

Chapter 28

June 25, 1814

"Won't you have a Shrewsbury cake?" Mouette invited, taking a large bite of her own. "They're still warm, and our cook has made this lovely raspberry jam."

Deciding that it would be best to enter into her sister's mood, Lindsay smiled and accepted the plate Mouette proffered. "It looks delicious. Thank you."

"Thank
you
for coming over here to help me! There's so much work to be done today and one can only trust the servants so far." She stirred her tea and spread clotted cream over another cake. "You're growing into an exceptionally tasteful woman, my dear. If you're smart, you'll marry Lord Fanshawe and settle down right here in London. With his family's wealth, you could probably have an even grander house than this."

Lindsay's smile began to falter. They sat in an exquisite sitting room that adjoined her sister's boudoir. The gilded ceilings and walls painted the color of beeswax framed fashionable pieces of satinwood furniture. There were valuable paintings, Aubusson carpets, and cut-glass bowls of yellow roses, and yet Lindsay sensed that something was missing. No amount of money could purchase the love and happiness that were necessary to transform mere rooms into a home.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm not in love with Dudley," she explained quietly.

Chewing the last of her second cake, Mouette fingered her necklace of pearls and rubies. "You ought to be. He has a great deal more to offer than that renegade sea captain."

"Have you forgotten that our father was a renegade sea captain and still is, to some extent?"

Mouette shrugged. "No, I haven't forgotten, but Papa's different. Besides, even he could not provide the sort of life I now have."

Choking back angry words, Lindsay took a deep breath. "Where are Anthony and Charles?"

"Their nanny has taken them to St. James's Park to see the cows." She spooned more sugar into her tea. "At least I think that's where they went. Oh, well, it doesn't really matter as long as they're not underfoot. Children can be such a nuisance! I am so thankful that we can afford to pay a nanny and a governess—"

"Mouette!" Lindsay had to bite her tongue to keep from shouting exactly what was on her mind. Instead, she thought madly, trying to make sense of her sister's erratic behavior. Mouette was eyeing the last Shrewsbury cake, and for the first time Lindsay took note of her more rounded face and the generous cut of her morning gown. She was exhibiting so many signs of strain that it seemed obvious that there were indeed some serious problems within the Brandreth marriage. Softening, Lindsay moved over to sit on the gold-and-ivory-striped settee next to her sister. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice. It's just that I love you and I'm worried about you."

"I'm sure I don't understand. You have scarcely been around me enough to feel such concern for my well-being. Besides, I have everything any woman could want!" There were tears in Mouette's huge blue eyes.

Lindsay put an arm around her shoulders. "You can talk to me, you know. I won't even tell Mama or Papa. Is it Harry, Mouette? Are you unhappy in your marriage?"

The older sister saw such love and sympathy in her sibling's eyes that her defenses crumbled. She rested her forehead against Lindsay's shoulder, then relaxed slowly as she felt the caring and warmth in her embrace.

"Yes, it's Harry. Has it shown?"

"Only to your family. You needn't worry that all of London is talking about you. Won't you tell me what is wrong, though?"

"Promise you won't tell Mama? I've always felt so intimidated by the success of our parents' marriage!"

"I promise."

Mouette seemed to shed the sophistication acquired during her years in London as she spoke, and Lindsay felt that she was discovering her for the first time. "He's been away more and more the past two or three years, dining at his club almost nightly—and even leaving late at night! He insists that he is merely strengthening his connections with the important members in the House, that it's important that he build a firm foundation for his political career, but..."

Lindsay stroked her sister's glossy curls. "Yes?"

"But Harry's been spending so much money! And yet there always seems to be more to replace it. I may seem a scatterbrain to you, but I have managed the family finances since the day we were married and I can tell you that it frightened the life out of me when he announced last year that he wanted to take them over. I wouldn't—I
couldn't
—allow it! He tells me that he wins money at cards with Lord Liverpool and Lord Chadwick and the others, but I find that so hard to believe. Harry has ever loved to gamble, but he's never had a talent for it. I've seen him at the tables!"

"What is it that you suspect?"

Mouette shook her head miserably. "I don't really know. For a time, I felt certain that he was having an affair. He would come home at all hours from these 'political meetings' reeking of liquor, his cravat askew..." Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she wiped them away. "I was
ill
worrying about it! I tried everything. I bought new furniture, new clothing, I tried a different coiffure, I brought him breakfast in bed—but nothing worked. Now I'm less certain that another woman is at the root of this. Since the day we married, I have sensed that Harry harbors a feeling of insecurity. He's done well in life, and God knows that
I
love him just as he is, but he is forever looking around at his peers and worrying that he hasn't a weighty title, that he isn't wealthy enough, that he isn't as dashing as Papa, that I care more for material things than for him, and now he belongs to the wrong party and can never advance very far in the House."

Gently patting her back, Lindsay murmured, "What do you think he's been doing, then?"

Mouette heaved a huge sigh. "I'm not sure. That's what worries me so! He won't
talk
to me, Lindsay. What's worse is that I become so nervous I eat too much and spend too much and complain or nag too much, and that makes everything worse. I don't know... my suspicions shift from day to day, depending on Harry's behavior. Sometimes, when he doesn't touch me for a week or more, I believe again that he is in love with someone else. Then I decide that gambling is to blame. I just don't know."

"Does he ever ask you what Papa says about the war between America and England?"

Raising her eyes, Mouette stared at her sister, then blinked. "What a question! As a matter of fact, we
have
been known to discuss the war from America's viewpoint. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I just—" Lindsay broke off thankfully when the Brandreths' housekeeper appeared in the doorway to inform her mistress that the man with the flowers had arrived.

Mouette also seemed happy for the distraction. "Wonderful! Let's go down and look, Lindsay. It's getting late, you know, and we mustn't linger here any longer. Why, the rout begins in just six hours!"

* * *

While dressing that evening, Lindsay racked her brain for a means of speaking to Ryan alone. Cassie was there every minute, helping her slide into an exquisite gown of white
gros de Naples
ornamented at the bottom of the skirt by a broad band of satin wreathed in pearls. The corsage was cut low to accentuate Lindsay's creamy breasts and made a deep V to bare half of her back. More pearled satin topped the gown's short puffed sleeves, and a wide sash was tied in a long bow at the back. Tonight, Lindsay wore a slim band of emeralds that encircled her upper right arm. More emeralds shone in her ears, and Cassie was now carefully pinning pale yellow rosebuds into her mistress's luxuriant upswept curls.

"You smell quite wonderful, Miss Lindsay," Cassie observed. "Must be that scent we put in your bath."

Lindsay's gray eyes were distant. "I suppose so, Cassie."

"It'll all work out somehow, you know. I can feel it."

She was afraid to ask what the housekeeper meant.

Still, Cassie had seen her kissing Ryan. What else could she be referring to?

"How did you find your sister?" the older woman was asking now.

"I'm not quite certain. Rather troubled, I think." Lindsay looked straight at her now. "Don't you still have to help Mama dress? I would feel so much better if I could speak to Captain Coleraine before we leave for the rout."

Cassie sighed and pushed back her own damp curls. The night was warm. "Go ahead, then. I'll see that your parents are occupied." Watching Lindsay back away while smiling gratefully, she muttered, "I should have known that day he carried you off down Pettipauge's Main Street. If any other man had dared to do such a thing, you probably would have seen him dead."

"Ryan is a bit more difficult to get rid of," the girl said, laughing.

"Just the man for you, then, hmm?"

An incandescent smile lit Lindsay's countenance. "Yes, I think so!"

Alone, then, yet still basking in her young mistress's glow, Cassie considered the transformation Lindsay had undergone. Before Captain Coleraine burst into her life, she had been much too serious for a girl of her age, beauty, and promise. She had hidden from life then. How could Cassie disapprove of a man who had drawn Lindsay out into the sunlight and taught her to laugh and to enjoy being a woman?

* * *

Sitting near the cold fireplace in his room, Ryan smoked a thin cheroot and sipped a small portion of brandy. His feet, shod by Hoby, were propped on a footstool, and his dark blue frock coat was slung across the bottom of his bed.

"What would Beau Brummell say?" admonished a voice from the doorway.

Ryan paused in the act of rubbing his eyes and laughed suddenly. "Ah, angel, you've appeared just in time. How lovely you look!" Standing up, he arched a brow at her. "Don't forget to close the door."

She did so, then crossed to pick up his coat and shake out imaginary wrinkles. "Tsk, tsk!"

"Thank God I'll soon be able to go back to my old ways." Ryan slipped his arms around her waist, and she touched her nose to his shirtfront and breathed in its fresh scent. His cravat was tied in an intricate, unique style, and snug pale yellow pantaloons skimmed his long, lean-muscled legs.

"Your old ways?" Lindsay whispered half playfully. "Never
quite."

A slow smile spread over his face. "I imagine the new ways will be far more enjoyable."

They kissed lingeringly, then Lindsay pushed herself away with a small moan. "It's nearly time to leave for Mouette and Harry's. Cassie promised to keep Mama busy, but it's quite possible that Papa might appear. We should open the door and talk quietly—and sit in separate chairs!"