Surrender the Stars (45 page)

"Absolutely!" Ryan declared with conviction.

"So you want to go after Harry and Lord Chadwick? Do you really believe they are bound for Ireland?"

"Lady Chadwick seems to think so, and I must believe that since we have no other clues. From what she's told me, it sounds as if they'll rendezvous with the courier in Galway Bay, then, if I haven't caught up with them by then, they'll go to a man living nearby who owes Chadwick a large favor. Chadwick hopes that this person will provide refuge until the scandal here subsides and we have returned to America." Ryan paused for a sip of brandy. "Of course, I hope to apprehend them before they leave Falmouth, but it may be necessary to sail to Ireland. Will you allow me to take
La Mouette,
sir?"

"Of course. Ideally, I'd like to accompany you, but I realize that one of us should stay here in case something else crops up that must be dealt with. It's plain that you're the person to go since you are familiar with Ireland."

"As a matter of fact, I grew up near Galway," Ryan remarked casually.

Devon was looking thoughtful. "Are you certain that Lady Chadwick can be trusted? It seems to me that she might wish to mislead you in order to protect her husband."

Feeling Lindsay's gaze on him, Ryan cleared his throat.

"I think not. Let us say that Lady Chadwick has kept certain secrets for too long and, like Mouette, has been dissatisfied with her marriage. I'm confident that she was honest with me."

"I take it that you are unwilling to share these secrets," Raveneau surmised.

"Not because I don't trust all of you but because this information is... confidential. Whatever honor I have left requires that I respect the privacy of the parties involved until this situation is resolved. You understand?"

"Of course we do," Devon said firmly. "And we also have a high opinion of your honor and your character, Ryan! You know that both Andre and I have come to care for you as a son."

A smile flickered at the corners of his handsome mouth. "That's good to know." Reaching out, he caught Lindsay's hand in his own. "You see, there is something I would like to ask the two of you before I leave for Ireland."

Andre's brows went up. "Yes?"

"I find that I am in love with your daughter. Would you do me the honor of granting me her hand in marriage?"

"Mon Dieu!"
Raveneau shouted. "I knew it! I begin to think that you have a very devious character, m'sieur! First you keep me in the dark about the nefarious conduct of my son-in-law, and then you court my other daughter while living in my own house! I sensed that you had designs on Lindsay, but my dear wife assured me that I was imagining things! Why is it that no one will tell me the truth?"

"There was no point, sir, until we could be sure that my masquerade as Nathan Raveneau might be coming to an end," Ryan replied frankly. "And you needn't worry that I have been compromising Lindsay's honor under your roof. Your highly suspicious wife has been keeping a close eye on us."

Raveneau glared at her accusingly. "You knew!"

"Not exactly, sweetheart," she said soothingly. "I knew that there was romance in the air, but not marriage. Isn't it exciting?" Devon was quick to divert him. "Surely you couldn't wish for a finer husband for your daughter! He's just like you, after all!" Her eyes sparkled teasingly.

"Hmm." Andre drained his glass of brandy. "I suppose that's true.
Eh bien,
I will agree to this marriage on one condition."

A euphoric Lindsay cried, "Name it, Papa!"

"You all must promise never to keep anything from me again!"

Ryan reached over to shake the hand of his mentor and future father-in-law. "You have our word on it, sir."

Lindsay, clad in a muslin nightgown and matching robe, sprang out of her chair and rushed to hug each of her parents. Then she went over and sat right down on Ryan's lap. Her left hand ruffled his glossy hair, then curved around his broad shoulder, while her right caressed his cheek as she kissed him. "It will be a perfect marriage!" she told her parents. "We're both unmanageable, just like the two of you!"

* * *

Daybreak had not yet begun to lighten the eastern sky when Harvey Jenkins appeared in his master's rooms. Ryan was packing fresh shirts, breeches, and underclothes into supple saddlebags along with a flask of brandy, his shaving gear, and a pistol.

Hearing the familiar footsteps of his manservant, Coleraine turned and raised a finger to his mouth. Harvey closed the door.

"You aren't thinking of going without me, sir?" he accused in injured tones.

"I'm afraid so, Harvey. You need to look after Miss Butter, don't you?"

A blush warmed the plump man's cheeks. "Well, that's true, sir. We are planning a wedding, but my first obligation is to you!"

"Nonsense! I'm just going off for a few days, Harvey. I need to look into a matter or two in Ireland, and you remember what happened the last time you went there. It was so damp and gloomy that you suffered from the ague for weeks!"

"Not really, sir. It only
seemed
like weeks."

"Whatever. The fact remains that you didn't like it there. What kind of employer would I be to force you to accompany me on a journey to a place that makes you sick?" His teeth flashed for an instant in the soft morning light before he leaned down to pull on an older pair of dark brown top boots. When Harvey made no response but continued to stand by the doorway looking bereft, Ryan crossed to pat his back. "This doesn't mean a thing, old man. I'll be back soon, and we'll go on as before. You should know enough to trust me by now."

"Indeed I do, sir."

"Good. Look after everyone here until I return, all right? You know where to find me if an emergency should arise."

"Yes, sir." His bearing was stolid. "I'll do as you bid... if you'll promise to take care of yourself."

"Of course I will." Ryan laughed softly, half hugging the rotund manservant and patting him on the back again. "And don't worry. I'm taking a groom with me, so I won't be alone."

He went into the hall, saddlebags slung over one shoulder, and paused outside Lindsay's door. Slowly, he eased it open. Lindsay was huddled under the covers in the great four-poster across the room. She would be furious if he left without saying good-bye, but at the same time he couldn't face another drawn-out scene with her. Better simply to leave quickly and return as soon as possible. Closing the door, Ryan turned to find Harvey watching him.

"She's sound asleep. I don't want to disturb her," he whispered to the manservant. "Will you tell her I said good-bye—and that I love her?"

"Certainly, sir."

"And tell her to start planning our wedding. I hope to be back within a fortnight and do not intend to wait a moment longer than necessary to make Lindsay my wife."

"I will convey those sentiments to Miss Raveneau, Captain. And"—Jenkins put out his hand—"congratulations."

"Thank you, Harvey." With a sigh, Ryan headed through the quiet house down to the kitchen, where he snatched a large walnut muffin. In spite of the long journey ahead and the potential of danger, he was filled with energy. Clad in worn, snug buckskin breeches, a comfortable linen shirt, and a blue coat from his days at sea, Ryan felt almost lighthearted as he breathed in the sweet, fresh dawn air and crossed the stableyard with long strides. By the time he reached Simon's stall, his thoughts were occupied with planning the journey ahead. To his surprise and pleasure, he discovered that the stallion was already fed and saddled. Glancing around, he saw a wiry young man in baggy breeches and a broad-brimmed hat that hid his face as he cinched the strap on a dappled mare's saddle.

"Good work, lad. What's your name?"

"Ian, sir," the boy replied in husky tones.

Deciding that Ian was shy, Ryan made one effort to put him at ease, then forgot for several hours that he wasn't alone. "You may as well call me Coleraine, Ian. That's my real name, as you'll learn soon enough." He swung gracefully onto Simon's back and patted the black stallion's sleek neck. "I hope you're a damned fine rider because we have great distances to cover over the next few days and I can't wait for you."

Mounting his own horse, the groom gazed at the Irishman with intent gray eyes. "Yes, sir," he replied, but Coleraine wasn't listening. He was already entering the stableyard, nudging Simon into a trot, his mind on more pressing matters.

* * *

Andre Raveneau opened his eyes to find the bedroom still shadowed. Devon was curled against his back, warm and purring like an exhausted kitten, but for some reason he was wide awake after less than two hours' sleep. For a moment, he lay motionless, listening, then eased out of bed to follow his instincts.

Had there been a noise outside? Raveneau dressed quietly and emerged into the hallway. Ryan's door was ajar, the room empty. Probably he had only heard the Irishman leaving for Falmouth, and yet it couldn't hurt to investigate....

Silent as a cat, Andre descended the stairs and felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Someone was in the house; someone who didn't belong there. His pistol was in the study. Opening the door, he came face-to-face with Sir Harry Brandreth.

Clad in traveling clothes, Harry was standing next to the desk, his hand in the top drawer. At the first sight of his father-in-law, he smiled, thinking to bluff his way around the older man, but Raveneau's steely, piercing gaze told him that it was too late. He'd already heard the truth.

"I expected you to have run from London hours ago," Andre said coldly. "What are you doing in my house?"

Harry summoned every ounce of mad courage he possessed, knowing that if he faltered now the game would be over. Raveneau was a formidable adversary. Slowly, he walked over to face him, then slipped one hand inside his coat to draw out a pistol, which he pressed to his father-in-law's hard belly.

"You ought to be asleep, sir. I've waited all night for this house to go dark."

"May I ask why?" Raveneau inquired coolly.

"I'm afraid that Nathan and Lindsay's interference has forced me to leave London for an extended period of time." Harry's full upper lip curled contemptuously. "I will be needing something of value, something that I can sell so that I won't starve during my enforced exile. You wouldn't want me to starve, would you, Captain Raveneau?"

Andre's only response was an eloquently arched brow.

"Patriot that I am, I would like to help my country in the bargain, so I decided to take what I have longed to possess since your arrival in London. I understand that a certain Commodore Barney means to thwart the British fleet along America's eastern coastline. I knew about your mysterious maps, and my faithful wife has explained to me that they show little-known entries into all of the major American ports; ways to slip in without detection or to navigate harbors that aren't thought to be deep enough for larger vessels."

"Brandreth, I've always thought that you were an ass, but it's clear that I was far too generous in my estimation of your character."

"Now, now, let's be civil. I don't want to be forced to hurt my own father-in-law!" Smiling, Harry jabbed the pistol against him for emphasis. "As I was saying, I imagine that your charts would be of great value to the British military. If we do attempt a raid on Washington, your charts could make all the difference in the world, don't you think? So why don't you show me where they are?"

"Do you really believe I would be foolish enough to have those charts here in London?"

"What do you mean? Where are they?"

"I have them locked up on board my ship!"

Grimacing, Harry narrowed his eyes. "Fine. You'll show me where they are. I suppose I would have had to take you with me, anyway. If I left you here, the others would find you when they awaken and give chase. As it is, they won't be certain where you've gone. Get your coat, Captain Raveneau."

* * *

Ryan's day passed in a blur of winding roads, hilly countryside drenched in wildflowers, and hedgerows covered with songbirds. The travelers stopped only when necessary to rest and water the horses, stretch their own legs, and partake of food. Ian would stay outside to look after the horses while Coleraine went into the inns and brought bread, cheese, fruit, and ale back to him.

Throughout the day, Ryan was so preoccupied that he barely remembered that the groom was along. This wasn't terribly difficult since Ian was usually a quarter mile or more behind, praying each time he came to a crossroads that Coleraine hadn't turned. Coming into a village, the groom was forced to look hard at every inn in search of Simon's distinctive black form. Then, perhaps a quarter hour later, Ryan would emerge from the inn and find Ian with the two horses, head bent as he rubbed them down.

"I see you found us" was his usual distracted greeting, to which the groom would mutter a monosyllabic reply. Coleraine would then pass along some food, mount Simon, and be cantering back onto the road while Ian struggled to stuff bread and cheese into his pockets while jamming an ill-fitting boot into the mare's stirrup and hoisting himself up into the saddle.

By afternoon, they had passed Basingstoke and were deep into the verdant, peaceful county of Hampshire. The villages, with their thatched cottages and colorful gardens, were charming, but there was no time to pause and appreciate them. Ryan was intent on getting as near to Salisbury as possible. He had made up his mind to reach Falmouth in less than three days.

Night had fallen when Ryan reined in an exhausted yet valiant Simon in front of the White Star Inn in the tiny village of Lapcombe Corner. Salisbury was so near he could almost touch it through the darkness.

Dismounting, he ran a hand through his dusty hair and had started toward the stables before he remembered the groom. If the boy couldn't keep up, there hardly seemed any point in having him along! What use would he be fending off highwaymen or caring for Simon if he was never there? At that moment, Ryan glimpsed the silhouette of a gray horse and slight rider approaching the White Star.

"Ian!" he called, a note of irritation in his voice. "Is that you?"