Spring Fires (43 page)

Lisette looked uncertain. "I've wondered that many times myself."

"Do I detect a note of insecurity?"

"It's always been difficult for me to believe that Nicholai really loves me, or that he loves me for my real self and not for the challenge I've represented to him. And you see, there is someone else who is a very real threat to his feelings for me."

"Oh, no!" Devon arched her brows apprehensively.

"Oh, yes! The reason he left Philadelphia was to rescue the lady he fell in love with during his ten years in France."

"Ah yes, I remember. Caro told me about this woman—and mentioned that
you
urged Mr. Beauvisage to rush to her aid.
Why
on earth—!"

"I learned about Gabrielle when Nicholai was recuperating from his shoulder wound. He used to speak her name in his sleep. Later, when he was better, he told me about her. At that time, he believed she'd been killed during the September Massacres... and I couldn't help feeling even then that her ghost was my rival. When Nicholai received her letter begging him to come to her aid, I felt that it would be better to lose him to her now rather than later."

"So you took the safest course," Devon supplied. "You sent him off to England and returned to your work at the CoffeeHouse."

Lisette sighed. "Foolish of me, wasn't it?"

"Clearly you reconsidered, or you wouldn't be here."

"Yes, but I'm still frightened. I'm afraid that Nicholai will already be involved with Gabrielle again by the time I arrive. Her husband is dead now—so perhaps she'll want to marry Nicholai immediately! And even if that hasn't happened, I'm afraid that I'll won't measure up to Gabrielle. It was one thing when he was with me in Philadelphia and she was across the ocean, but when he sees us together and compares—"

"You really are foolish!" scolded Devon. "Honestly, I'm certain that Nicholai must have
preferred
your genuine, unaffected beauty to that of any other woman."

"Yes, but they were involved for a long time. I doubt whether Nicholai would have ever left France if he'd known she were still alive."

"Hmm..." Devon tapped a finger against her delicate chin. "I see your point. You would feel better if Nicholai were meeting you in London for the first time, so that you could be certain his feelings for you aren't colored by conscience and some sense of obligation from the past."

"Yes, oh, yes!"

"And you wish that you could compete with Gabrielle on her own ground, so that you won't feel so out of place now that you've left the CoffeeHouse behind."

"Yes! I feel so foolish barging over to England to snatch him back, particularly since he may not care to be snatched! If only I could win him fairly. I wish, as you said, that we could meet for the first time and that he could fall in love with me all over again. I wish I could have new gowns and jewelry to match this new side of myself, the side that is sailing off for love. I could afford a new wardrobe, but Nicholai knows I've always scorned elaborate clothes... and I fear he'd think I was wearing them for the same reason all those other women do."

"To captivate susceptible men," Devon supplied with a knowing smile. "Well, as we've been talking, I've been hatching a wickedly exciting scheme that just might make all your wishes come true!"

Lisette's blue eyes widened. "What is it?"

"We own a house in London, and when we are there Andre and I are able to move in the best circles—if we care to, which we generally don't. However, we'll be spending a fortnight there this time and you could visit us as our guest." Devon's eyes danced with mischief as she leaned nearer and continued, "Here comes the outrageous part..."

"Well?"

"I believe, with the aid of the right seamstress, hairdresser, and the application of cosmetics, that we could actually transform you into a new person—physically speaking, that is. Then, we could change your name, invent a new past—"

"I can do a credible Austrian accent!" Lisette chimed in excitedly.

"If our plan works, you really would be meeting Nicholai for the first time, for your purposes, at least! Do you suppose he would be taken in by your new identity?"

Lisette took another sip of wine and giggled. "It's mad... but one thing is certain: Lisette Hahn is the last person Nicholai would expect to meet in London, particularly in the altered state you described. So, it's possible that he wouldn't recognize me. In any event, I would love to find out!"

Devon laughed and clinked her cup against Lisette's in a lighthearted toast.

* * *

Black waves slapped
La Mouette's
sleek hull under an indigo sky sprayed with stardust. Lisette leaned on the rail that curved above the bow, listening to the whisper of the snowy canvas sails and an occasional creak from the rigging. Her only companion was the watch who stood silently on the quarterdeck; at this hour nearly everyone on board was asleep. By tomorrow night,
La Mouette
would be swaying securely beside London's teeming wharves. The thought sent a chill down her spine that mingled excitement with panic. How could the scheme concocted by Devon, upon which they had elaborated daily ever since, ever succeed? When Nicholai recognized her, what would she say and do? What if he and Gabrielle were already married?

Lisette sighed, then breathed deeply of the salty night air in an effort to relax.

"Mistress Hahn—" A large shadow blocked the moonlight. Whirling around, she came face to face with the tall dark figure of Andre Raveneau.

"Oh—Captain—I..." She pressed a hand to her muslin bodice and the thudding heartbeat beneath. "Good evening!"

"I didn't mean to frighten you, Lisette. You must have been deep in thought not to have heard my creaking footsteps on the decks!" Raveneau's grin flashed in the darkness and he covered one of her cold hands with the warm strength of his. "After eight eventful weeks at sea—in close quarters—you should be calling me Andre."

They
had
been eventful weeks—two more than she'd anticipated, due to storms that had tossed them off course and a brief detour to France's Brittany coast. Her friendship with Devon had flourished, and she felt like a big sister to Mouette and Nathan, yet Lisette had never quite felt comfortable in the presence of Andre Raveneau. Her memories of their initial encounters were still embarrassing. As a result, Lisette had always concocted an excuse to leave whenever Raveneau came near. He still seemed a stranger to her.

"All right, Andre." She managed a stiff smile. "I'm probably shouldn't be out here wandering about so late. I don't want to disturb your routine here, so I'll just say good—"

"No, you won't!" His hands held her fast. "It's time that you and I had a talk."

"A talk—?" She blinked. "What about?"

Raveneau laughed, and she thought that he looked exactly like a pirate in the starlight. "Stop behaving as though you fear I'll gobble you up,
cherie.
My interest in you is purely friendly." which you would have understood weeks ago if you had remained in my company for more than five minutes!"

Hot blood rushed into Lisette's cheeks. "I didn't really— that is, I only made myself unavailable because I didn't want to be in the way."

"If you insist. But since I understand that you are going to be staying with us in London, and you and Devon have hatched a scheme, I thought I ought to extend my hand to you in friendship one more time."

"Your wife has been so good and helpful to me! I hope you don't object to her invitation that I come to your home."

Measuring her with a sidelong glance, Raveneau replied, "Of course I don't object. I do think that this plot is quite mad, but I'll do whatever I can to help. No doubt you think I am a hardened cynic, and certainly I used to be, but during the last dozen years I have become a true believer in the magic of love."

There wasn't a trace of mockery in his voice. Lisette looked up to search his eyes and found them clear and candid.

"You and I have more in common than you might imagine," he was saying. "Before Devon burst into my life, I was far too strong to need anyone—especially a woman with genuine love to offer. I was proud of my self-sufficiency, of my ability to share beds with beautiful females yet elude their attempts to extract a commitment."

"I've heard about men like you!" sniffed Lisette. "No wonder I remain wary of romance."

Raveneau laughed. "I told you that we were alike! I was as suspicious as you... until Devon." He turned a profile to her and gazed out over the shining black ocean before continuing softly, "Eventually I surrendered, just as you have done by making this voyage into the unknown."

"Yes, but you'll never know how frightened I am that Nicholai won't want me! The pain would be worse than anything I've ever known."

"Yet, you're willing to take the risk."

"Yes." Lisette smiled tremulously. "I have to."

"Take heart, Lisette. You've made the right decision... and I've a strong feeling that Nicholai Beauvisage won't disappoint you."

Chapter 38

London

September 3, 1793

After pulling on knee boots that were a shade darker than the snug buckskin breeches he wore, Nicholai Beauvisage lit a cheroot. Morning sunlight streamed through the arched windows that overlooked Berkeley Square, and he paused to gaze down on the wooded gardens where nightingales sang each evening. No doubt about it, he reflected, the house, his chamber, the square—in fact, all of London—were beautiful and intensely charming. Even Gabrielle, dressing in her suite across the hall, seemed to have grown more exquisite during the past year.

Why, then, was his mood so incessantly bleak? During the long voyage from Philadelphia, Nicholai had tried to stave off the pain caused by Lisette's absence by substituting anticipatory thoughts of Gabrielle. It was hard for him to admit that Lisette's perplexing behavior had hurt him. Instead, he had decided to see what the future brought with Gabrielle. Perhaps it would serve Lisette right if she never saw him again.

Now, he drew on the cheroot with a self-deprecating smile. "Beauvisage, you're a fool," he muttered.

"Bonjour, mon cher!"
The door swept open and the scent of gardenias wafted across the room.

"Good morning, Gabrielle. You look ravishing."

It was true. A stylish dark blue riding coat over a white dress and fichu set off Gabrielle's gleaming coppery curls and creamy-velvet skin to perfection. Her leaf green eyes smiled at Nicholai under a blue hat complete with ostrich feathers and a cockade.

"Merci.
You are looking very handsome as well." She was worried by the remoteness of Nicholai's compliment—a remoteness that had been intensifying with each passing day. "Why have you not put on your cravat and coat? Have you forgotten that we agreed to meet Angelique and Dudley downstairs at ten o'clock? It is five minutes past that time even now, Nicky!"

He grimaced noticeably, but held his tongue. It was difficult to be rude to people who offered the hospitality of their home, yet Nicholai disliked both Angelique, an old friend of Gabrielle's from childhood, and her new husband, Sir Dudley Whitloaf. He longed to ride alone, but this would have been taken as a strict breach of etiquette by their hosts. Nicholai's patience was running out with etiquette
and
Gabrielle's habit of reproaching him while wearing an artificial smile. The spell she had once cast over him had been broken; he was no longer bewitched and she was at a loss to restore the magic.

"Why don't you go down and make my ardent apologies to your friends, my dear? I'll finish dressing with all possible speed and join you in the stair hall."

Gabrielle's smile faltered as she felt the prick of his mockery. Reaching out, she touched Nicholai's ruffled chestnut hair, then impulsively curled her fingers around his neck and leaned upward to press a kiss to his hard mouth.

Nicholai suffered the pressure of Gabrielle's body against his own and allowed her to push her tongue between his lips. Reluctantly, he put one arm around her back. Part of him wished that he could respond; it would certainly make life simpler and less depressing. Whenever he realized that he'd left Lisette to chase all the way to London for nothing, and that no brother of Gabrielle's would be worth his life, Nicholai's gut knotted up. As soon as he learned of a ship returning to Philadelphia, he would tell Gabrielle that he wasn't the man to rescue her this time. She would have to cast her spell on another victim....

"I thought that the Whitloafs were waiting for you." Firmly, he set her from him.

Hot blood rushed into her cheeks. How dare he brush off her advances as though he wasn't the least aroused? Never before had she needed to be the aggressor; in fact, she knew that it was her elusiveness that had always intrigued Nicholai Yet, she had played at being a mysterious enigma for weeks, ever since his arrival in London, and he had appeared uninterested... even bored.

"Do you expect that I am to make apologies to Angelique and Dudley on your behalf?" she inquired icily.