Surrender the Stars Read online

  Surrender the Stars

  The Author's Cut Edition

  Raveneau Novel #2

  by

  Cynthia Wright

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  Copyright © 1987 by Wrighter, Inc.

  Cover by Kim Killion

  eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

  Thank You.

  Dedication

  For my readers

  with love and appreciation

  Prologue

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  April 7, 1814

  A luminous full moon spilled silvery light over the Georgian facade of Hampshire House and its lawns studded with beds of daffodils and hyacinths. Because Senator Lion Hampshire and his wife Meagan were in residence at their country estate south of Philadelphia, the villa was also lit from within, aglow with candlelight and convivial laughter.

  Only one upstairs window still shone with light. Inside, Devon Raveneau sat at a pretty Queen Anne dressing table. After inserting an emerald comb into the fashionable strawberry-blond knot atop her head, she absently appraised her reflection.

  "Are you ready to venture forth?" inquired her husband. Coming up behind her, he bent to kiss the curve of her neck.

  "Yes, Andre, but why do I have the feeling that there is more afoot here tonight than a simple supper among friends? It shouldn't seem odd that Caro and Alec Beauvisage would write to us in Connecticut and invite us to visit them in Philadelphia, or that Lion and Meagan would travel up from Washington to see us and arrange this lovely party, but it does. It's as if there's something in the air, waiting to be said. Did you sense it when you were with Alec and Lion today?"

  Raveneau shrugged, even though he, too, was aware of the undercurrents now that the six of them were together at Hampshire House. "Cherie, we should join the others. They've already gone downstairs. If there's something that's waiting to be said, perhaps we'll learn what it is this evening."

  She stood up and smoothed back his silvery hair. "You're right, of course."

  In the hallway, they parted. Andre Raveneau went down to join the two men he had known since the Revolutionary War, before any of them had met their wives. Devon walked toward the back stairway, where she was met by tantalizing aromas of soup, salmon, lamb, and tarts.

  "Devon, is that you?" Meagan Hampshire called up to her. "I'm just checking to see that Bramble doesn't overexert. Come and join us!"

  She found Meagan and Caro at the bottom of the stairs, and compliments were exchanged all around. All three women were in their forties but retained a fresh, intelligent vitality that made them more beautiful with age. They remained petite and slim in the flattering high-waisted fashions of the day, the soft tendrils that brushed their creamy cheeks lending them a girlish charm. Meagan's hair was ebony, Caro's honey-hued, and Devon's a rosy-gold; all three shades mixed with strands of silver that gleamed in the lamplight.

  The kitchen was huge, whitewashed, and dominated by a scrubbed oaken table. Firelight not only bathed the room but danced around a kettle of fragrant soup that hung in the hearth. Bramble, a bent, sour-faced elderly woman clad in black, was tasting her creation when the trio of females emerged from the stairway.

  "Good evening, Bramble!" Meagan called.

  The long wooden spoon clattered to the floor as the cook jumped, one hand pressed to her sinewy breast. "Have ye no thought for the heart of an old woman?" she scolded. "In future, don't be creeping up on me!"

  "I'm sorry, but—"

  "I suppose ye mean to remind me that ye are mistress of this house and may come and go where ye like, but I don't mind repeating that I have a few rules of my own and if ye cannot abide by them, I vow I'll work elsewhere!"

  "So you've been telling me for twenty-five years, dearest Bramble." Meagan's emerald eyes twinkled affectionately as she remembered the long-ago days when she, at eighteen, posed as a maid and had answered to Bramble. Later, Meagan had been appointed housekeeper, eventually becoming Lion's wife, but through it all and over these many years, Bramble had never quite forgotten the original arrangement between herself and her mistress. It amused Meagan to allow a measure of power to this dour old woman, knowing how she reveled in it. "Truly, I am contrite. Forgive me—and then tell me how our supper progresses."

  "That's a foolish question! Ye should know well enough that my meals are always served at the scheduled hour!"

  Devon and Caro exchanged glances as their younger friend crossed to the hearth and whispered, "Bramble, you should know well enough who is mistress in this house. Curb your tongue."

  Seeking distraction, the two women across the kitchen exchanged news about their children. Caro told Devon that her son, Etienne, now thirty, was a major who was away in the war. He and his wife had a new baby daughter. Natalya, her elder daughter, was living in France with the family of Alec's brother, Nicholai, and had written her first novel. Kristin, the youngest, had been engaged twice but now was in love with yet another young man.

  "Natalya is very independent and claims she doesn't need a man to take care of her"—Caro sighed, smiling—"while Kristin adores men but can't seem to make up her mind. I've given up worrying. I'm certain that love will come to each of them when the time is right. What of your children?"

  Devon wore a bemused expression. "Mouette has been married for several years and has given us two grandsons, but they live in London so the war with England has kept us apart in recent years. Nathan is captain of one of Andre's ships and is away in the West Indies now. Lindsay, our baby, is nearly twenty. She's the one I worry about...."

  "Is she fickle, like Kristin?"

  Devon smiled. "No. Lindsay is... an original. She is teaching school in Pettipauge, since the traditional male schoolmaster is off in the war. She claims that she's in her element, spending all her time with books and lessons. She longs to be different from the rest of the adventure-seeking Raveneaus. Lindsay came along later, when Nathan was seven. I suspect she wanted an identity of her own."

  "Take heart. She's still young, and no doubt time and experience will help Lindsay to grow."

  "I do hope that you're right. She's a lovely young woman and I would hate to think that she's missing out on life because of some stubborn course she has set for herself."

  Meagan returned to join them, laughing. "Talking about Lindsay, hmm? Well, if she's stubborn, it's no more than you should expect, given her parentage! Weren't you the young lady who had to be chased down by a privateer before you'd yield to Andre's charms?"

  Devon had to smile. "Something like that..."

  The two kitchen servants returned from setting the table and Bramble cleared her throat.

  "I perceive that we are in the way," Meagan remarked. "Let's roust the men from the study and think about supper."

  * * *

  The meal was splendid. Pea soup was
followed by crimped salmon with sauce, accompanied by a fine white Bordeaux wine.

  Animated conversation swirled around Devon. It centered on Lion Hampshire and his knowledge of the war's progress, but she found her attention wandering.

  Twists of fate had brought each of these three couples together. Gazing around the dining room, Devon thought of the tale she'd heard Meagan tell about how she had helped Lion decorate this house when another woman had been meant to come here as his wife. Like the rest of Hampshire House, it reflected their life together. Lion had been a sea captain who had made his fortune during the early years of the China trade. This dining room featured delicate wallpaper patterned with tree peonies, a Ch'ien Lung rug in jade tones, and Chinese Chippendale furniture laced with fretwork. Porcelains from the Orient lined the breakfront shelves. Candlelight accentuated not only the room's charm, but also the love between Lion and Meagan Hampshire as their eyes met in a shared moment of pleasure.

  Devon sighed inwardly, wondering if her daughter Lindsay would ever know the kind of love enjoyed by the couples in this room. The selection of eligible men in Pettipauge, Connecticut, was most discouraging. True, nearly every male near Lindsay's age was off in the war, but the possibility that the conflict might end soon, returning them to Pettipauge, did little to cheer Devon. There wasn't a man in their circle whom she considered worthy of her daughter—and Lindsay herself seemed indifferent.

  Over a lamb roast with baby vegetables, Devon met Andre's perceptive eyes. His gaze seemed to say, "Stop worrying about Lindsay and enjoy yourself!" Her heart felt lighter as and she turned to Meagan, inquiring about the Hampshire triplets.

  Meagan was happy to relate news of her twenty-year-old offspring. Benjamin had left Georgetown University to join the navy, while Michael had been exploring the frontier in Michigan before the war broke out. A wound suffered at Niagara kept him safe for the time being. "Only a war could prompt a mother to feel relief over her child's injury," she reflected wryly, then smiled. "Susan, on the other hand, is both safe and healthy! She would be with us tonight if not for a previous engagement in Philadelphia."

  Lion laughed and ran a hand through his tawny hair. "Daughters! It seems that every bachelor in both Washington and Philadelphia is in pursuit of Susie. I have welcomed at least fifty ardent, drooling young pups into the house and suffered their company through interminable meals, only to have her remark a few days later, 'Oh, Martin? Percival? Archibald? Don't be silly, Papa. Did you think he suited me?' " Hampshire laughed, feigning aggravation.

  Rhubarb tarts and pretty meringues were served as the conversation turned to Andre's exploits as a privateer captain, the many ships he currently owned, and the crimp put in his livelihood by the British blockade of Long Island Sound.

  "Are your ships able to get out at all?" Alec asked casually.

  Raveneau smiled, arching a brow. "But of course! My son, Nathan, is in the West Indies as we speak, and I have one other captain who can elude any blockade. The war hasn't hampered Ryan Coleraine!"

  "Captain Coleraine reminds me of you thirty-five years ago," Devon remarked.

  Beauvisage and Hampshire exchanged meaningful glances while, as if on cue, Meagan said, "Lion, why don't you take the men into the library for brandy?"

  When they were gone, she rang for sherry and looked at her two friends. "I've never been one to encourage the idea of men leaving the women so that they can engage in 'serious' conversation. However"—she sighed, glancing at Devon—"this evening may be an exception."

  * * *

  Firelight played off the brandy swirling in the snifter that Lion Hampshire unconsciously turned with agile fingers. Across from him, Andre and Alec sat in wing chairs, sipping their brandy while contemplating the fire and, from time to time, each other. Finally, Raveneau drew a slim cigar from his breast pocket. Standing, he lit it with a candle that guttered low on Lion's desk, then directed a stare at his host.

  "Senator, is there something on your mind?"

  Lion smiled and cleared his throat. "I've been searching for the right words, but I should just get on with it. The fact is, Raveneau, President Madison has asked me to speak to you. Perhaps you'd better sit down."

  "Shall I leave you two?" Alec asked.

  "No, no, that's not necessary. In fact, the president may be interested in your point of view, Beauvisage, if this discussion turns into an argument. He trusts your judgment."

  Raveneau lowered his tall body into the chair and rubbed his jaw. "All right, senator. You've aroused my curiosity!"

  Lion took a sip of brandy, then began, "As you are doubtless aware, the United States has no ambassador in residence in London because of the war. Furthermore, the peace commission that is convening in Ghent, in the Austrian Netherlands, commands the attention of prominent Americans in Europe who might otherwise lend their attention to England's affairs. President Madison has made the peace negotiations a priority by appointing John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay as two members of the commission."

  "It does look promising," Raveneau agreed.

  "The president tells me that this Peace Commission was masterminded by Lord Castlereagh," Lion said. "He maintained that maritime rights were too important to be negotiated by neutral third parties."

  "And where do I fit into all of this?" he inquired, his gray eyes deceptively lazy.

  The senator met his gaze. "President Madison wants an American whom we trust to live in London until the war is over. Someone who would also be trusted by the British, accepted in the highest social circles—"

  "Are you asking me to spy?"

  "Well, that's putting a rather sharp edge on it, Raveneau! It's simply that we don't know what's happening behind the scenes in London because there's no embassy. Some of the British military maneuvers are cause for deep concern, like Admiral Cockburn's vicious raids up and down our coastline. Who's behind those decisions and what mental climate fostered them? It's quite possible that someone in London is passing American secrets; information that may not even be accurate! President Madison needs the truth, especially as worry mounts that the British may launch an all-out attack against Washington, D.C."

  "That's a serious prospect indeed," Raveneau conceded.

  "With troops freed now that England's war with Napoleon is ending, it's frightening to contemplate what could happen next." Lion paused to let his words sink in. "We can't know how effective you'll be in London until you are there and able to take stock. The president is very hopeful, though."

  Beauvisage couldn't resist joining the discussion. "I can certainly understand why President Madison thought of you, Andre. You're French born, and even though you fought during our Revolution, you were a renegade privateer captain rather than as a member of the our navy. You and Devon keep a home in London and are welcome even at the Prince Regent's Carlton House. Your daughter, Mouette, is married to an Englishman. I suspect that the British think of you as neutral."

  Lion nodded. "That's exactly right." He looked to Reveneau then, his blue gaze unwavering. "You're also perceived as being dispassionately fair."

  "You mean that the English wouldn't take me for a spy?" he retorted sarcastically.

  "I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from using that word. We're not even certain whether there is anything to spy on yet! The president simply wants you to evaluate the situation and report to him periodically." Lion grinned. "Why not think of yourself as an ambassador of goodwill! I understand that Devon is extremely popular with the London ton, and we're counting on her and the rest of your family to remind the English that Americans do have redeeming qualities."

  "I see. You want my wife and children to spy, too!" Raveneau arched a brow at his host. "You'd have been wise to present this scheme to Devon rather than me, senator. She'd be thrilled by the notion of spying for her country!"

  Lion shifted uneasily in his chair, resisting the impulse to flinch each time Raveneau said "spy."

  "I must say," Andre went on, "I'm impressed with the careful c
onsideration you and President Madison have given this plan, but I'm wondering why it never occurred to you that I am a trifle old to gain the confidence of every influential man in London. Many of them are young enough to be my sons and would be unlikely to socialize with me—let alone take me into their confidence."

  Hampshire smiled reluctantly. "You anticipate me, my friend. The president desires that you include your son Nathan when your family travels to England. He is intelligent, charming, and handsome enough to quickly win a place in London society."

  "As much as it pains me to thwart your plans, I must remind you that Nathan is in the West Indies. He isn't due back until summer."

  Lion realized that Raveneau would have been delighted to completely thwart the plans that were being forced on him. He wasn't the sort of man who took orders well, and Lion empathized with him. However, he also knew that Andre Raveneau was reasonable, brave, and patriotic. He felt certain that his friend would come around and do the president's bidding.

  "I'm sorry that Nathan isn't available," Lion said quietly. "It's imperative that you have a socially active son while you are there." He paused. "What about the other captain you mentioned? Coleraine? Didn't Devon say that he's much like you?"

  This was too much for Raveneau. He laughed acidly and cried, "Are you crazed, first asking me to spy and then telling me that I should ask someone to masquerade as my only son? What makes you think that I would consider such madness?"

  "There's no one else the president will consider for this mission."

  "Ridiculous! There are plenty of Americans who are at home in London society. Choose another family!"

  "I'm afraid that's out of the question," Lion said with a sigh. "Other men might be able to play the role I've described in London, but none of them could get there! We haven't forgotten the spectacular success you enjoyed as a privateer captain. You are the only eligible candidate who can slip past the British blockades along America's coastline!"