Surrender the Stars (31 page)

Stifling a yawn, Ryan answered, "Let's see. Is she overfond of carriage rides? Viewing a multitude of sleepy villages? Repeatedly rolling up and down hills?"

"My, aren't we testy!" Mouette scolded. "You really
must
be ill! Has it not occurred to you that Lindsay might be glowing because she was a great success at the Radcliffe Camera last night? I believe that all the men present were more dazzled by her beauty and wit than by the countless settings of gold plate. I confess that I was quite envious of my baby sister!"

Lindsay colored prettily and avoided Ryan's sardonic gaze. "Mouette, you exaggerate as usual."

"I don't know about that," their mother chimed in, watching Ryan from the corner of her eye. "Lord Fanshawe was more smitten than usual, the czar himself kissed her hand, and every man at Lindsay's table vied for the honor of conversing with her during the meal. I was glad that Andre and I were seated at a different table so that he couldn't observe the stir she caused. Field Marshal Blucher attempted to propose to her! Of course, he'd had far too much cognac...."

"How thrilling for you, dear sister." Ryan raised his brows with the utmost nonchalance. "What did he propose?"

"Please," Lindsay begged, "can we not speak of something else?"

Ignoring her, Mouette went on, "Even the dean of Christ Church, an absolutely charming old gentleman, said that meeting my sister was the highlight of his evening!"

Lindsay's eyes met Ryan's in an instant of unspoken communication. "Dean Jackson could not have been kinder to me. He treated me as a daughter, and it is bad of you to imply otherwise, Mouette!"

"Is it?" Her sister tossed her glossy black curls. "I suppose that I grow wickeder with age."

Ryan looked out the carriage window at a poppy-drenched meadow and prayed that Grimley Court was at hand. It was reassuring to hear that Dean Jackson had not betrayed his earlier meeting with Lindsay but hardly surprising. Ryan's own breakfast conversation with the dean had gone well, yet he had left Christ Church feeling disquieted. Although the old man had professed approval of his former student's current life, there were undercurrents in his manner that Ryan recognized all too well. Dean Jackson had expected more. Oxford
needed
more.

Leaving Oxford had been a relief, but Ryan also felt a certain melancholy he could not afford to ponder. He told himself that Dean Jackson had a gift for subtly instilling guilt in his students, thereby helping them to reach higher, and that he himself was simply responding to old cues. Ryan had carved out his own world. He was happy in it and with himself—or so he reasoned during the long carriage ride to Grimley Court.

Lindsay's increasing effect on him was also more than Ryan could bear to consider today. It was easier to shut her out, especially with Devon next to him watching for clues as to the state of his heart. In truth, at the moment, he wished he didn't have one.

"Have you heard," Mouette was exclaiming, "that the czar seems to be in love with Lady Jersey? Perhaps he is attracted to excitable, imperious women, but can you imagine a Russian with an Irishwoman?" She laughed, then quickly sobered, remembering Ryan's heritage. "No offense intended, of course."

"None taken, I assure you." His tone was absently polite. "Having met both Czar Alexander and Lady Jersey, I have trouble imagining that pairing myself."

Happily, Mouette continued, "Perhaps she has a taste for royals. You all have heard, I suppose, that she had an
affaire de coeur
with the Regent before his marriage—"

"Mouette!" her mother broke in. "You were only a child then, and Lindsay a baby. I cannot enjoy the sight of you appearing so worldly or instructing
me
! Your father and I were in London and frequently in the company of the prince and Lady Jersey during their... romance."

"I'm sorry, Mama." Mouette leaned across to pat Devon's hand. "I confess, I do forget! At any rate, Harry says that rumor has it - "

"Mouette"—Lindsay turned on her sister, exasperated—"how can you waste yourself, not to mention the time of this captive audience, on such utter nonsense? I begin to doubt that you are a Raveneau! Have you been submerged in society so long that your brain has begun to rot?"

Mouette gaped for a moment, speechless, then her beautiful blue eyes pooled with tears. "What—what a
hateful
thing to say!" Her voice broke. "Harry's right! You're a worse snob than anyone in England!"

"Please," cried Devon. "Both of you, stop this!"

The sky, gone slate, began to spit raindrops as the carriage turned up a curving drive lined with flowering chestnut trees. Not a moment too soon, Ryan thought as he gave Lindsay a quick sympathetic glance. He suspected what might be the matter with Mouette, but that didn't make it any easier to bear her nervous prattling.

Lindsay averted her eyes from his and looked out the window, watching for the first sight of Grimley Court. After all that she and Ryan had shared the day before, including the dizzying interlude on his bed, she was bewildered by his distant behavior this afternoon. Did he think that she was so besotted that she would simply fall into his arms when he willed it and that he might ignore her in the meantime?

"What a splendid house!" Devon cried spontaneously.

Lindsay focused her attention on an imposing Georgian mansion built of pale gray sandstone. Their carriage, along with the men on horseback and a covered landau containing the Earl and Countess of Chadwick, drew up before a grand portico that boasted a divided staircase whose two stone halves swept down to meet in the yard.

Privately, Lindsay felt that the house appeared quite cold and formal but decided it would do Ryan good to hear her join in her mother's and sister's chorus of ahs.

"It's breathtaking," she pronounced.

Moments later, they were caught up in a whirlwind of stiff, liveried servants, followed by the equally stiff and proper welcome extended by the Earl and Countess of Grimley. Dudley attended Lindsay as she stepped from the carriage. Possessively, he tucked her hand through his arm and led her up the left staircase to the spot where his parents waited. They appeared very old and grand to Lindsay, and greeted her, and then her family, tonelessly. A suggestion of pleasure did seem to flicker over their faces when Lord and Lady Chadwick came up the steps.

As the butler led the Raveneaus into the cavernous hall, Lady Grimley drew Hester off to one side of the portico and whispered animatedly.

Lindsay tried to ignore the expressionless face of Ryder, the butler, as he led them through a succession of rooms, each more stunning than the last. Dudley did not relinquish his hold on her arm and he explained softly, "You see, Grimley Court was an early example of the scientific method applied to the English country house."

Having no knowledge of the English country house, Lindsay couldn't fathom what he was saying. She did like what she saw.

"The hall, that colossal room into which we entered, used to be the center of the house," Dudley went on, oblivious to Ryan's penetrating stare at his back. "Now we use it as a sort of vestibule and for banquets, which are rare occurrences these days. The salon, behind it, has become the great room where we tend to congregate."

Lindsay glanced back over her shoulder and saw Ryan flick his eyebrows upward in irritation. He'd been out of sorts all day and she could think of no other reason for it except that he was having second thoughts about everything that had transpired between them in Oxford.

The butler led them to three symmetrical apartments, each with a bedroom, two small rooms, and a back stairs behind the bedroom. A chapel, and a library divided the apartments. The kitchens and servants' hall were contained in the basement below.

Lindsay was too preoccupied to pay much attention, and soon she found herself alone in a glorious bedroom. Priceless paintings, including one of the Regent by Sir Thomas Lawrence, were hung on pale green walls. The bed, which dominated the room, was splendidly ornate, with a golden tester and green-and-pink-flowered draperies. She knew that she ought to find her parents and discover what the plans were for that evening, but she decided to lie down for just a moment. It was bliss to close her eyes, and instantly she sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

After managing the clasp of Lindsay's diamond necklace, Cassie watched from the doorway as her young mistress dashed across the huge hall, lifting her pale blue silken skirts. She stopped quickly in the doorway to the salon, which also served as the dining room, and colored when she realized that she was the last to arrive.

"I apologize if I am late, Lord and Lady Grimley." Bravely, Lindsay went forward to greet them. "I confess that I fell sleep. Oxford must have been more exhausting than I realized."

"It's perfectly all right," Lady Grimley intoned in a voice that suggested just the opposite. "You'll find your place next to the viscount."

Lindsay paused for a moment, wondering who she meant, until Dudley rose to pull out her chair. Farther down the table, she glimpsed Ryan sitting between Hester and Mouette. Lady Chadwick was whispering something in his ear that caused his eyes to twinkle as he listened. He appeared oblivious to Lindsay's entrance. Sitting down, she felt her own mouth tighten in reaction. It took all her control to return the smiles of her parents and make polite conversation with Dudley, whose manner was decidedly proprietary. Tonight, he, like his father, wore a black frock coat with a snowy shirt and a cravat ruthlessly tied in the Mathematical.

Across from her, Lindsay saw that Ryan was the only man who hadn't worn black. His coat was slate blue, his waistcoat was ivory brocade, and his cravat was elegant and immaculate. In contrast, his hair gleamed like a raven's wing and his eyes seemed bluer than ever. Each time he spoke to Lady Chadwick, she beamed back as if to assure him that she found his unconventional dress utterly enchanting. Watching from under her lashes, Lindsay smoldered.

"That's turtle soup," Dudley informed her after a servant placed a dish before her.

"Oh!" Lindsay looked down, uncomprehending for a moment, then dutifully lifted her spoon and tasted. The stuff was dreadful. "How very... delicious!"

The Countess of Grimley gave her a frigid smile from down the table. "Do you have turtle soup in America?" she inquired in superior tones.

Lindsay saw her mother's mouth whiten, so she replied grandly, "But of course, your ladyship! We have
everything
in America except a king!"

Dudley and his father coughed in unison. Lindsay reached for her wineglass, glimpsing Ryan's amused eyes over the rim as she drank. Salmon appeared at one end of the table and a platter of turbot surrounded by smelts at the other. Serving himself, Lord Grimley muttered, "Don't suppose that that young upstart Brummell showed himself at Oxford!"

The Earl of Chadwick was glad for this conversational opening. "Certainly not! As you've doubtless heard, he and the Regent are on the outs these days. After all those years, when Prinny doted on Brummell, I must say I think it's high time matters were set right. The man's only a clerk's son, but he began to act as if
he
were ruling England. He would say the most outrageous things to people of title and breeding, and if they took offense, he contended that he could chase them from society. It was inevitable, I suppose, that the Regent would not only become jealous of Brummell's power but irritated by it."

Harry, who had been looking preoccupied up to now, spoke up. "I was there at Watier's when Brummell gave that ball a few months back. He and Prinny were already feuding, so when the Regent arrived and cut Brummell dead, the Beau turned to Lord Alvaney and said, 'Who is your fat friend?' "

Lord and Lady Grimley gasped, while most of the others who hadn't already heard the story wore, at the least, expressions of shock and surprise.

At this point, Andre Raveneau attempted to inject a note of reason. After swallowing a bite of salmon, he set down his fork and remarked, "I think that George Brummell may be his own worst enemy, as I understand that that he's begun to gamble recklessly. Doubtless many of you here tonight think that I have no right to form an opinion, being newly arrived and American, but I believe that Brummell's downfall will come not as a consequence of the Regent's disfavor but as a result of his gambling."

Saddle of mutton, fowls, ham, and tongue had arrived at the table, accompanied by side dishes of potatoes and vegetables. They all looked singularly unappetizing to Lindsay. Next to her, Dudley spoke up. "Although the man is no friend of mine, he is a countryman, and I feel that you may be doing him a disservice, Captain Raveneau. I know several members of White's and Watier's and all have told me that Brummell has recently doubled his income by gambling."

Raveneau arched an eyebrow. "I know. And I'm also old enough to be aware that he is already in dangerous territory. Gambling is a treacherous business. Success accelerates the pace, and then there is only one way to go—down."

Harry blanched, stabbed a boiled potato, and stuffed it into his mouth. Next to him, Devon surveyed the company. Lady Chadwick had returned to flirting openly with Ryan, and he seemed glad for the distraction. Fortunately, Lord Chadwick appeared oblivious to his wife's behavior. Lindsay, on the other hand, watched them at intervals from under her long lashes while pretending to converse with Dudley.

Sighing, Devon thought that she knew the signs all too well. She looked into her husband's warm gray eyes and thought back to all the times she had tried to pretend indifference to him. Mouette had begun to prattle on again about the rumors concerning the czar and Lady Jersey; Harry was lost in thought as he pushed the tasteless vegetables around his plate. Finally, Devon's eyes moved to her hostess. Lady Grimley, pale, straight-backed, and thin-lipped, wore no expression at all until she sensed Devon's curious gaze. Then she looked at her guest and the corners of her mouth turned up in the coolest of smiles.

"Would you care for more mutton, Mrs. Raveneau?" she inquired through her teeth.