Surrender the Stars (44 page)

Lindsay's heart went out to him. She knew he didn't mean to be a dictatorial male, that he was only concerned for her safety, but there were simply certain matters about which she could not compromise. Still... "Ryan?"

Warily, he opened one blue eye. "Yes, dearest brat?"

"I
will
promise not to rush into anything without considering all sides of the situation—including your feelings and the possible danger."

"That sounds ominously conditional..."

She traced the line of his cheekbone and jaw with slim fingers. "You've known from the first day we met that I'm unmanageable. At least I haven't surprised you after it was too late."

"You surprise me constantly, but I know what you mean." Tenderly, he bent to kiss her, his hands framing her face. "And, in all honesty. I must admit that that's half your charm. Every day with you is a challenge; I never know what to expect!"

"I love you so very much, Ryan." Tears gleamed in her eyes.

"And I love you." He kissed her again, tasting, then deepened the kiss as she began to respond. Ryan had shed his coat when they came home and now Lindsay's hands caressed his back and shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt. Her tempting breasts pressed against him as he leaned nearer, but then suddenly he sat up.

"How do you do it? You're the first woman I've ever known who could cause me to completely abandon reason!"

"I didn't do a thing!" she cried defensively. "
You
kissed me!"

"Well, I shouldn't have." Standing, he rubbed his eyes and tried not to smile. "Your parents will be home at any moment, and the last thing I need tonight is your father challenging me to a duel! In the meantime, we—I mean,
I
—have to figure out what to do about Brandreth and Chadwick."

"What can
we
do?"

Glancing over at her widened eyes, Ryan ignored Lindsay's reference. "Well, first of all, I shall have to talk to your father and fill him in on all of this now that I have confirmed my suspicions. Obviously, he can't go to Lord Liverpool since there is a possibility, however minute, that the prime minister was aware of this pay-off arrangement. And it will be hard to prove anything without confessions from the two perpetrators, but obviously someone must be alerted in case—"

A chill ran down Lindsay's spine. "In case
what?"

"In case something happens to me after I go in search of Harry and Chadwick."

"Ryan, what do you intend to do?" she cried apprehensively. "We don't even know where they've gone!"

"I heard them say a few things after they thought I'd been knocked unconscious," he replied, pacing across the bedroom. "They're going to rendezvous with a courier at sea, near the home of someone who is indebted to Chadwick, who will hide them if necessary. I simply have to find out who this person is and then give chase."

"Next you'll tell me that you're going to see Hester!"

Ryan stopped to look at Lindsay over one shoulder. "Exactly."

* * *

"What do you want from me?" Hester asked agitatedly. She paused at the window of the library in the huge Chadwick mansion overlooking Green Park and sighed. "Really, Ryan, it is the outside of enough for you to burst in here at this hour of the night and tell me this wild tale—"

"It's quite true, I assure you. As for bursting in, I waited for
you,
Hester. Where've you been? With Byron? That's the current rumor, you know."

"My private life is none of your affair anymore, my—I mean, Ryan. You have made it quite clear that you want nothing to do with me. And, under the circumstances, I don't see why I should even consider helping you trap my own husband."

"Perhaps because, in spite of your transgressions, you are a person of character." Quietly, he crossed the Turkish carpet and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you, inside and out, and I've loved you. Circumstances may have forced you to compromise your basic principles on occasion, but underneath you haven't changed. You couldn't live with yourself if you allowed Francis to get away with this, Hester."

"Francis is my husband!" she exclaimed, spinning around to face him. "I shall share, to some extent, whatever fate befalls him!"

"That fate is inevitable, though. Don't you see? He may run away and try to hide, but the eventual outcome will be the same. And Francis has ruined himself. It's neither your fault nor mine. The blame belongs to him."

Hester's senses swam under the compelling spell of Ryan's nearness. She wished that they could simply sweep away the last nine years and begin again... or even go back in time for one brief interlude. "Oh, Ryan," she breathed, afraid to look at him, "how could I have let you leave me? If only I had stood up to my father and Francis and—"

For a moment, he was reminded of Lindsay, who vowed never to be bullied by anyone, and a smile warmed his heart. Then Hester's unfinished sentence sank in. "And
who else?"

Hester felt weak in the knees and leaned against him. Ryan held her for a moment, as if to bolster her courage, then guided her over to a silk-upholstered sofa. She accepted the glass of sherry he poured for her and drank it gratefully. "I really mustn't tell you. It's such a coil...."

"That's why you
must
tell me. Hester, we can't undo the past, but we do have control over the present. You must trust me."

She turned wet emerald-green eyes up to him and nearly wept at the sight of his beloved face so near—yet so unattainable. "I've made such a lot of mistakes, Ryan."

"As have I, my lady," he said matter-of-factly. "And yet I've learned that it's never too late to begin anew. This is your chance."

When his firm hand covered hers, Hester felt a rush of strength. "Francis conspired with your brother to see to it that you left England," Hester whispered. "You see, Francis learned that Blake was illegitimate. He shouldn't have succeeded to the title at all. By rights, you are the Marquess of Clifden. Blake's been a pretender all these years."

Ryan's eyes widened, then narrowed, and he sank back against the sofa. "Hmm. Well, that's interesting, but what does it have to do with this current situation?"

"Don't you
care
? All these years, that stunning Irish castle and its lands could have been yours. Blake's known since your father's last illness that he was not the legitimate heir, yet he kept it from you!"

Thoughtfully, he rubbed one side of his mouth. "Well, Blake had counted on that all his life. He married and had children believing that the title would pass to him, and since I was merely the second son, I didn't bother with a family. Of course, I would have married
you,
Hester, particularly if I believed I had so much to offer, but I think now that our lives worked out for the best."

"How can you say that?" Her sable hair gleamed under the soft gas-lit chandelier as she reached out to touch his face. "And how can you be so nonchalant about Blake's deception? If not for him, you would never have left Britain! You would have assumed the title of Marquess of Clifden and moved into the castle! Think of what your brother has done to your life!"

"I am, and that's why I'm not angry. Of course, a part of me resents his deception, but I don't regret one minute of the last nine years, Hester. This may sound trite, but my new life in America made a man of me." Ryan gently pried her hand from his face and held it briefly before returning it to her lap. "Right now I'm more interested in Blake's connection to your husband and Harry."

Sighing, she looked away. "I'm sure, given the debt that Blake owes Francis for forcing our wedding and thereby disposing of you, that my husband was referring to Blake as the person who owed him a favor."

Ryan bit his lip, considering. "That sounds logical. Clifden Castle would be an ideal place to disappear to for a few months. But I have to be more certain before I sail to Ireland! Why would this fellow spy choose so remote a place to rendezvous?"

"Do you know, a great deal is beginning to make sense to me now," Hester mused. "Francis has been going off for a fortnight or more at a time in recent years. He owns a handful of ships docked at Falmouth and, two summers ago, purchased one that sails out of Galway Bay. He's told me that his journeys have been to take care of business regarding that ship, but that explanation never sounded quite plausible. Letters arrived from time to time from Galway, and when I asked about them, he said that they were from the ship's captain—and yet I never saw them afterward in his desk. I didn't think much about it at the time, but now..."

Ryan stood up. "He's been cautious, selling secrets to a spy who sails from Ireland. Little chance of the man turning up here to expose him, hmm?"

She followed him to the door. "Ryan, there's something else I must tell you if you intend to go to Ireland. Blake has been very ill. He wrote me that he thinks he may be dying—and his wife has gone off to France with their children, both of whom grew up to be quite contemptible. He's all alone, and I would say that it's impossible to predict what Blake will do if Francis calls in his markers...."

Part Five

And Earth, Air and Light

And the Spirit of Might

Which drives round the stars in their fiery flight;

And Love, Thought, and Breath,

The powers that quell Death,

Wherever we soar shall assemble beneath!

-Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

Chapter 31

June 26-28, 1814

"Helas!"
Raveneau exclaimed, his gray eyes stormy, "why didn't you come to me with this from the first?"

Ryan glanced across the dining-room table at Lindsay who, like her parents, wore bedclothes and a dressing gown, then shrugged. "I suppose if I truly were Nathan Raveneau, I might've done. As it was, I didn't feel I had the right to accuse a member of your family without proof."

At that moment, Cassie appeared with a tray filled with steaming cups of tea, plus a decanter of brandy and four small snifters. Setting it down before Raveneau, she quickly made her exit. Although it was nearly three in the morning, all four opted for brandy and took a first sip in unison.

Devon spoke next. "Weren't you aware that our affection for Harry didn't run deep?" More than anything else, it hurt her to see her husband excluded from the intrigue surrounding this situation. It was just what Andre would have enjoyed at this point in his life.

"How could I know?" Ryan replied earnestly. "He is married to your daughter! There were her feelings to consider, too, and the effect all of this would have on her life and those of your grandsons. If I had accused Harry and then been wrong, imagine the consequences!"

Raveneau leaned back in his chair, brows knit, and sipped his brandy. A meaningful glance from Devon told him that he was merely resenting his exclusion from the adventure. "All right, then,
mon ami,"
he murmured. "I understand. If it had been anyone else, you would have told me?"