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Beloved Enemy
Mary Schaller
HOW COULD SHE FALL IN LOVE WITH A YANKEE?Julia Chandler was a true daughter of the Confederacy, believing any man who wore Union blue was no man at all. But the magic of a costume ball transformed her, and she looked beyond his mask and saw in the eyes of Major Robert Montgomery the mirror of her very soul!Major Rob Montgomery had good reason to hate Southerners. Hadn't Rebel gunfire shattered his dreams along with his hand? And yet he yearned for even a moonlit glimpse of Miss Julia, a sheltered Virginia belle, forbidden him by war and politics, but destined for him by heart's true love!
How can I be falling in love with this man? I barely know him. I must remember he’s a Yankee!
Rob took her hand in his. Julia inhaled sharply at the touch of his warm skin, but did not pull out of his grasp.
“Ahh,” he murmured as he caressed the back of her hand. “I see that they are still cold. I will remedy the situation.”
He gently released her, then he reached inside his coat and withdrew a small package.
She quickly untied the ribbon and pulled away the paper. “Gloves!” she exclaimed, fondling the thick fleece-lined suede.
“But these are quite expensive,” she whispered. “It would be wicked of me to accept them.”
“It would be very wicked of you to reject them,” he murmured.
His seductive voice sent a delicious chill down her spine.
“True, Major,” she replied, pulling on the gloves with satisfaction. “I do try to avoid wickedness whenever possible.”
Praise for Mary Schaller writing as Tori Phillips
“Phillips is a new star on the historical romance horizon:
she’s literate, witty and tells a good story.”
—Publishers Weekly
The Dark Knight
“Filled with the turbulent details of religious intolerance
in England, this carefully crafted romance…proves that
love is the most powerful emotion when it resides in the
hearts of strong men and women.”
—Romantic Times
One Knight in Venice
“Intense and soul searching, One Night in Venice swings
from the dark side of human nature through the
treacherous inquisition to the admirable characters
willing to face suffering or even death to save others.”
—Affaire de Coeur
Lady of the Knight
“In this fun tale, Ms. Phillips weaves an
adventurous story of chase and budding love
and puts in some lessons along the way.”
—Romantic Times
Beloved Enemy
Mary Schaller
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
At my birth, the front of heaven was full of fiery shapes.
—William Shakespeare
King Henry IV, Part I
This book is dedicated with lots of love to our first
granddaughter, Shelby Washburne Williams, who was
born on July 29, 2002—the hottest day of the year.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Author Note
Chapter One
“My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee.”
—Romeo and Juliet
William Shakespeare
Alexandria, Virginia
December 1863
“I do declare, Carolyn, this is your most harebrained scheme ever.”
Looking up from the cream-colored invitation in her hand, Julia Chandler fixed a properly reproving glare on her younger sister. At least, Julia hoped her expression looked stern, though she had to admit she was secretly as excited as Carolyn. The last time Julia had held such a coveted invitation as this one was two years ago. “How did you get this?”
Her sister fiddled with a broad band of green satin ribbon that circled the skirt of her day dress. Though she studied her fingers, the two bright patches of pink in Carolyn’s cheeks betrayed the girl’s feelings.
Julia silently reread the words written in elegant copperplate script:
The pleasure of your company is requested at a Masked Ball upon the evening of the thirty-first of December at nine o’clock, given at the home of Mr. George Winstead for the pleasure of his family and friends.
She breathed deeply to calm the butterflies that skittered in her stomach.
“I did not realize that we had resumed our friendship with the Winsteads,” she continued aloud in a feigned arch tone. “I am sure that it has not slipped Mrs. Winstead’s mind that our family is still very much in sympathy with the Confederate cause.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Carolyn scraped her slipper over the polished floorboards of the girls’ upstairs bedroom. A sly smile crept across her lips. “Wouldn’t it just make that old Melinda Winstead itch if she knew we attended her grand party?”
Julia could picture the pique of the disagreeable Winstead daughter. Such boldness on the Chandlers’ part would definitely twist the nose of that jumped-up Yankee chit. Melinda deserved a tweaking after all the hateful things she had said about the Chandlers, especially after Frank Shaffer’s death at Manassas. Clearing her throat, Julia fanned herself with the invitation to the premier social event of the Christmas season.
“Tell me, Carolyn. How did you come by this? I don’t believe for a minute that it was delivered to our doorstep.”
Carolyn’s grin broadened. “Found it,” she replied. Her hazel eyes sparkled with unsuppressed mischief.
Julia sighed. Carolyn was notorious for “finding” all sorts of opportune items. “Where exactly?”
Her sister smoothed the dress ribbon that she had worried into a wrinkle. “On the paving stones by Dr. Brown’s carriage step. A big ole envelope was just lying there in the mud. I had to save it, you know. It could have been something very important,” she added with the innocent air of a canary-fed cat.
Julia narrowed her green eyes at her little sister. “And how is it that you happened to be walking past the Browns’ when their home isn’t anywhere near Market Square, where you were supposed to be shopping?”
Licking her lower lip, Carolyn finally looked directly at Julia. “’Cause I saw the Winsteads’ butler drive by in the family carriage holding a basketful of these envelopes.”
“And you followed him like a common beggar,” Julia concluded, picturing the shameless scene in her mind.
Carolyn nodded without an ounce of regret. “It didn’t take the brain of a jaybird to know what he had under his arm. He sat on that carriage box with such an important look on his face. Lordy, Julia, no one in Alexandria can think of anything else except that party.”
Julia hated to agree. Northern-born George Winstead, part owner of the new railroad line into the Federal City, had become very rich during the past two years. He demonstrated his Yankee-bred manners in the lavish way he spent his war-fed wealth. His New Year’s Ball had been the talk of the town both in the streets and behind fans at Sunday church services, even among the most secessionist of families like the Chandlers. Julia admitted to herself that she would love to attend, but since the Winsteads were firmly Yankees, her parents had not spoken to them since April 1861. She looked down at the card again.
“You know we can’t possibly go.” Julia sighed with honest regret. After mourning for her sweetheart for the past two years, she was ready to wear a pretty silken gown again and to dance until dawn as she had done briefly in those far-off days before the wretched war had ended all gaiety and laughter—at least in the Chandler household.
Carolyn pursed her lips. “Speak for yourself, Julia. You can stay at home and think of Frank Shaffer, but I do not intend to miss this chance—not when I have an invitation in my hand. I’ve never been to a ball like you have. And the way that horrid Mr. Lincoln is going on and on with this war, I highly doubt that I shall ever go to a party before I am old and gray. Sit by the fire, if you want, but I intend to waltz till I die.” She stuck out her chin.
Julia lifted one of her auburn brows. “You know there will be nothing but Unionists at the Winsteads’ party. I thought you would sooner die than be caught near a Yankee.”
Yankees! The very word was bitter on Julia’s tongue. She couldn’t imagine herself dancing with one of those people who had killed so many fine young Southern boys—like Frank, who had kissed Julia once on the cheek and quickened her heart to love.
Carolyn wiggled her nose. “I don’t intend to talk with them—just dance with them.” She giggled. “And I do intend to stuff myself silly with sweets. See if I don’t. Mmm! Think of it! The Winsteads are bound to serve jelly cake and macaroons from Shuman’s Bakery. And there will be nougats, frozen charlottes, gingerbread—and caramels.” She rolled the delicious word around in her mouth. “Don’t you miss eating caramels?”
Julia’s mouth watered. Caramels were her special downfall. Ever since the Federal Army had marched into Alexandria in 1861, Mother refused to allow her daughters to patronize Randolph’s Confectionery Shop just because of a political disagreement with the owner. As if eating a simple caramel was a treasonous act against the Confederacy!
