Spring Fires (48 page)

September 4, 1793

Lisette took a sip of tea, nibbled at her cranberry muffin, and turned once more to glance at the dining room clock.

"Is something wrong?" Mouette Raveneau softly touched her arm.

"You keep looking at the time!" Nathan chimed in, ignoring his sister's reproving stare. "It's making me quite mad!"

"Well, I'm sorry!" Lisette shot back as if he were her own brother, then softened and smiled around the table at Mouette and Halsey Minter. "I didn't realize... it's just that it is past nine o'clock and we are supposed to go riding. Where can your parents be?"

She had directed the last question to Mouette, but it was Nathan who immediately retorted, "Oh, that's easy. They're probably still kissing and doing love things like that." He made a face that reflected his opinion of such pastimes.

"It's still early," Mouette said reassuringly. "Papa and I didn't leave until nearly ten o'clock yesterday, and it was at least a half hour before we encountered Mr. Beauvisage in Hyde Park."

Lisette blushed. Minter was in the midst of transferring more Irish ham, eggs, muffins, and another chunk of honeycomb to his plate, but the corners of his mouth had lifted irrepressibly. Lisette was aware that he had come here today because of the "plan." During their ride, Minter was to stay near Devon, while Lisette and Raveneau would go on ahead, side by side, in hopes of encountering Nicholai first. The idea was for him to imagine, as at Vauxhall Gardens, that the sophisticated Raveneau marriage allowed flirtations to be pursued to any end. Not for the first time, Lisette wondered whether Nicholai would react with jealousy... or with a more alarming combination of anger and disgust.

Nearly a day and a half had passed with agonizing slowness since their midnight rendezvous. Devon had insisted that the suspense would do them both good when she sent only her husband and daughter out riding in Hyde Park the morning after Vauxhall. "If he turns up after so late a night," Devon had declared, "it will be a positive sign indeed!" However, as Mouette just mentioned, it had been past ten before Beauvisage's handsome gelding cantered leisurely into the park. Infused with romance as she imagined herself a spy, the young girl had reported every detail of the meeting to her mother and Lisette. Of course, she had not been fooled by Nicholai's seeming nonchalance when he inquired after "Fraulein Amstetten," or when, in the midst of their farewells, he had wondered aloud whether the Raveneaus' houseguest might also be riding the next morning. Mouette and her father had agreed, nodding, that it was certainly possible....

Lisette stiffened at the sound of a low, sensuous giggle that drifted down the stairs. "Oh, good!" She beamed with a sigh. "They are coming!"

When the Raveneaus appeared on the dining room's threshold, Lisette's smile faltered, for Devon wore a dressing gown of ivory satin and her husband was clad in boots, breeches, and an open-necked shirt.

"Good morning, everyone!" Devon took the chair that Andre held for her and smiled up at him. Her rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes were framed by a wreath of curls. "This food smells wonderful. Why, it looks as if all of you are nearly finished! What time is it?"

"Nearly half after nine," Lisette replied flatly, thinking that they would never be ready in time. It seemed that she had lain awake all night in anticipation of this meeting with Nicholai; now her heart felt cold and hard at the prospect of another day deprived of the sight of him.

"Oh, my." Devon flushed and looked over at Raveneau. Although occupied with filling his plate, he did pause long enough to give his wife a slight reassuring smile, and dropped one hand to caress her thigh under the table. Devon's blush deepened. "I had no idea. I suppose we must have overslept!"

"What'd I tell you?" muttered Nathan impishly, only to be rewarded by a scathing stare from his father at the other end of the table.

"Well, I've got to say that the two of you certainly look well rested!" Minter offered with a cheerful grin.

Devon scarcely heard his words or noticed the servant that poured her tea. How beautiful Lisette was looking this morning—and how dejected! she thought. The primrose yellow velvet riding habit, trimmed with a narrow sky blue stripe, had been an inspired choice. Even the white blouse and skillfully tied cravat looked perfect. All that was missing was the matching hat, which they had had specially made so that it would cast a shadow over any exposed golden curls. A brief sideways glance told Devon that the hat was waiting on a nearby pembroke table.

"If we are going to intercept Mr. Beauvisage, I should dress immediately!" she announced, pushing back her chair.

"You haven't touched your breakfast," Raveneau protested "I thought you were famished!"

"The feeling has passed. Perhaps I am
enceinte
?" The words were spoken innocently enough, but followed by a mischievous grin. "You'd better satisfy your own appetite also, darling, and soon! I'll expect you upstairs in less than five minutes, cravat in hand."

While a rather dazed-looking Raveneau stared after his wife's departing figure, Minter brushed bright hair back from his brow and chuckled. "This promises to be a rare morning. I can't wait to play my part—flirting with Devon in full view of Captain Raveneau!"

"Don't get too carried away," Andre warned darkly, "or a certain person back in Virginia will hear about it."

"I wish that I could go along," said Mouette softly, her lovely dark eyes filled with longing.

"Not this time,
ma fille,"
Raveneau replied as he lifted a last forkful of egg. "Your tutor will be here at ten o'clock."

"I know..." she sighed. "It's just that I would enjoy seeing Mr. Beauvisage again."

Lisette had risen and crossed to settle the primrose velvet hat over her upswept curls and glanced in the mirror to make sure her tiny patch was firmly in place. At Mouette's words, however, she stared back at the table in surprise. "Why ever do you say so?"

"I think he is the handsomest man I've ever seen," the girl answered dreamily. "His smile is the kind that makes one feel warm inside, and when he looked at me it was as if he thought me quite smart and pretty. Not a child at all."

"Oh, God," Raveneau groaned. "I shall have to redouble my efforts to reunite Lisette with this lecher Beauvisage before he attempts to seduce my little girl!" He felt a tiny pang, remembering that not long ago she had declared that no man in all the world could be more magnificent looking than her Papa.

"Andre!" called Devon from upstairs.

He stood, tossed his napkin on the chair, and exited, all the while shaking his dark head in disbelief.

Nathan made a disgusted noise, rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Women!"

* * *

Hyde Park was still richly green and trimmed with rows of bright flowers on this September morn, but Nicholai knew that autumn would creep in soon enough. He appeared the picture of nonchalance as he stood near his slate gray gelding while the animal munched on grass. White breeches skimmed hard-muscled thighs; a bottle green frock coat, fawn vest, and snowy shirt and cravat fit his broad shoulders and flat belly with perfectly casual elegance. One sun-darkened hand absently flicked his riding crop against the side of a gleaming boot.

Then, a glimpse of red-gold hair passing through Grosvenor Gate transformed him into an alert jungle cat. Instantly, he swung himself into the saddle and walked the gelding through the rows of sculptured trees that paralleled Hyde Park's eastern perimeter. His heart thumped in elation as he recognized Devon Raveneau—but who was that with her? The man's hair was also reddish, but a darker shade, and there was something about the way that she smiled at him and reached across to brush his hand that told Nicholai they were not brother and sister. Not for the first time, he wondered about the Raveneau marriage.

"Ah! Mr. Beauvisage, isn't it?" Feathery lashes swept soft pink cheeks as Devon gave him a flirtatious smile.

"Your memory is nearly as remarkable as your beauty, Madame Raveneau," he replied smoothly. Bringing his horse alongside hers, he caught her hand and kissed it.

Devon was astonished to feel her flesh tingle under his insolent mouth. Blushing, she heard herself exclaim, "Have you met Mr. Minter? He is a terribly wealthy merchant from Williamsburg, Virginia! Halsey, this is Nicholai Beauvisage!"

Minter could barely keep a straight face. A terribly wealthy merchant? Affecting a haughty attitude, he inclined his head toward Beauvisage and murmured, "A great pleasure, sir."

Nicholai nodded brusquely and returned his attention to Devon. "Has your husband been so remiss as to let you venture out alone?"

"Oh, Andre is not far behind... unless he and Fraulein Amstetten have gotten lost!"

Minter couldn't resist.
"Again?"

Narrowing his eyes, Beauvisage stared past them to the pair of horses and riders that was just then passing through Grosvenor Gate. He heard Devon Raveneau and her wealthy friend say something about going, and he bade them a distracted good-bye, his eyes never leaving the graceful figure in yellow velvet who approached on a lovely cinnamon mare. She was laughing at something Raveneau had said, but Nicholai could swear she'd seen him.

"Look there," the Frenchman was saying. "What a coincidence! Giselle, we have encountered M'sieur Beauvisage once again!" One black brow curved high in pseudo-surprise.

"'Tis a small world, indeed, sir." She cast a laughing glance at Raveneau, then turned to regard Nicholai with a serenely beautiful countenance. "We meet again, Herr Beauvisage. I trust you have recovered from the rigors of your night at Vauxhall?"

"As a matter of fact, I enjoyed myself immensely, fraulein." He paused as though listening. "I am certain that I hear your lovely wife calling, Captain Raveneau."

Andre bit back a smile and pretended to hear a nonexistent summons. "Ah,
yes! I thank you, Beauvisage." He turned back to meet Lisette's sparkling blue eyes. "Do you mind if I leave you here with M'sieur Beauvisage?"

"No, no," she managed to reply without laughing. "You go ahead. I will meet all of you at home."

Suddenly they were alone. "Andre and Devon Raveneau have a unique marriage," reflected Nicholai.

"That is true." Lisette knew they were not speaking of the same thing, but she couldn't resist replying in kind, since his choice of words had made it so easy. However, sensing that he intended to probe further, she deftly changed the subject. "Have you been well?"

"Barely a day has passed since our last meeting."

The familiar ironic tone of Nicholai's voice made her heart pound with yearning. "Oh, really? It seems much longer!"

"Fraulein Amstetten, you wound me!" Yet his mocking smile told a different story.

Rather than answer, she turned her horse away and Nicholai followed her through the trees to the open lawn beyond. When their horses bent to nibble the lush grass, he dismounted and gently lifted Lisette down.

"Did you wish to discuss something with me?" she inquired, burningly conscious of his strong hands spanning her waist.

"Yes. I will be leaving Britain two days hence... and somehow, I thought you might wish to know."

"Leaving!" gasped Lisette.

"Why, fraulein, I almost believe that you care!" One arm curved up around her slim back; his other hand caressed her neck, tipping her head up for his kiss.

She struggled for an instant, then succumbed. At first she was conscious only of his mouth opening her own, the delicious sensation of his tongue, the pressure of his arms and hands embracing her, but then, as Nicholai hardened and grew against her velvet-sheathed belly, Lisette flushed and pressed her hips helplessly nearer.

"How cozy!"

Nicholai stiffened immediately. Dropping his hands, he straightened to meet Gabrielle's taunting gaze. Behind her, the Whitloafs walked their horses toward Grosvenor Gate.

"We'll wait for you at home, then, Gabrielle..." Angelique ventured.

"Might I have a word with you alone?" the Frenchwoman inquired of Nicholai.

"I have to be leaving," Lisette interjected, her tone detached. "My horse and I both need our exercise."

Nicholai glared at Gabrielle. What timing! Still, there seemed no choice. "I was coming over to speak to you this afternoon, but I suppose this is as good a time as any. If you could grant me a moment's indulgence—?" Sarcasm lingered in the air as he turned back to Lisette and lightly took her elbow, guiding her to the mare who had wandered a short distance away. "I apologize for the interruption."

"Actually, I am rather grateful for it!" A dimple winked next to her pretty mouth. "I only hope that the
comtesse
is not too angry with you."

"She'll recover." He lifted her hand, studying it as his mouth scorched the soft palm and inner wrist. "I fear that I must bid you good-bye, fraulein. I regret that I shall have to forgo the pleasure of getting to know you better."

Lisette saw the irreverent gleam in his eyes, felt his hands slide up to her breasts as he lifted her onto the horse. It was as if the primrose velvet and fine white linen had been burned away; for a moment she couldn't breathe. Traitorous tears stung her eyes.

"B—but... Herr Beauvisage, are you certain that we shall not meet again before you sail?"

Nicholai grinned in a way that sent hot blood rushing to her cheeks. "I suppose it is possible, Fraulein Amstetten, if you are planning to attend the Prince of Wales's reception the evening after next."

"As a matter of fact," Lisette declared boldly, "I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Chapter 42