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Julia had to explain to him exactly what she wanted in no uncertain terms. There could be no mistake on his part. She wished her books had been more specific. She touched the major’s arm.
“Sir, I wonder if you could do me one more tiny favor?” she asked. Her heart thudded against her whalebone stays.
“I am your humble servant, Fairy Princess,” he replied. His white teeth shone in the semidarkness as he smiled at her. “Name it.”
Julia wet her lips, then looked up into his wonderful eyes. “Major, would you be so kind as to have…to have your dastardly way with me?”
Chapter Four
Rob gaped at the young woman. Had he completely misread her character? She swayed slightly and hiccuped. Steadying her on her feet, he realized that she probably did not have the slightest idea what she had just asked him. Glancing through the gap in the curtains, he was relieved to see that no one was nearby. Best to sober up the Fairy Princess, then deposit her on one of the side chairs that lined the dance floor. Rob could not remember ever being caught in such a ticklish situation as this one. The lady hiccuped again.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I do believe that I have made a splendid hash of this.”
Rob had no idea what she meant. “It’s the champagne,” he soothed her. “It has a way of robbing our good sense. Those naughty little bubbles make us say the strangest things.” He glanced between the curtains again to make sure that no one had wandered in range.
Her fingers tightened around his good arm. He prayed that she wouldn’t faint on him—not in this secluded spot.
“No, Major,” she said in a soft slur, “I did mean exactly what I asked. I must be ruined, whatever that is. I am desperate. Can you do it?”
Rob groaned inwardly. It was like asking him if he knew how to breathe. His loins awoke with a start. His mouth went dry. He cleared his throat. “Pardon my hesitation, miss, but do you have any idea what you are asking me to do?”
“Of course!” She nodded vigorously. Her holly wreath threatened to slide off her head. “That is, no,” she countered. “I fear I do not have a precise definition of ‘ruination.’ My books failed me in that respect. I had presumed that you, being a man and a Yankee, would know what to do.”
The way she said “Yankee” gave Rob some pause. Was he in the company of a Confederate spy? Was this a ruse to blackmail him into revealing government secrets? Before he could take action, she fell against him. Her eyes flashed with unfeigned shock.
“Oh, my! This is not what I had planned at all. Do forgive me, Major. I’ve never had more than one glass of wine before. I had no idea how fluffy it makes one feel. Will my intoxicated condition present a problem for you? Can you ruin me anyway?” Her beautiful eyes focused into a look of pure desperation. “Please, sir,” she whispered. “You are my only hope.”
Rob ignored his distaste for Rebels—at least for the moment. Confederate or not, his Fairy Princess was clearly a lady in real distress. He turned her toward the open window. “Hold on to my arm and keep your eyes open. Breathe deeply.”
She gripped him as she leaned over the jet of cold air that blew inside. When he felt her steady herself, Rob continued, “Now, please explain to me why you wish to have me…ah…ruin you. Before I do anything, I must understand the particulars.” Despite the cold air on his face, perspiration dampened his hair.
The auburn beauty nodded. “My parents want me to marry my cousin down in Richmond.” She paused for breath. “He’s a toad.” She stopped again, as if to gather her strength. “So I thought that if I were well and truly ruined by another man—a total stranger—” She breathed in again. “Payton would refuse to have me, and my parents would not object to me becoming a schoolteacher,” she finished in a rush of words.
Rob grunted. She was beginning to sound more reasonable. He gave her a weak smile. “You want to teach children?”
She looked up at him as if he had offered her the world on a silver tray. Her askew holly leaves and her fetching black mask made her even more like Shakespeare’s fairy queen. Rob recalled that Titania had also done some silly things while under the influence of a flower’s potent juice.
“Very much,” she replied softly. “Little girls and perhaps even some of the black children, now that they are free. But my parents would be dead set against that idea. Proper ladies do not teach school.”
“So you decided to be improper—with me?”
“Exactly so,” she confessed, looking away from him. “Just a little bit. As you have discovered, I have no idea how to do it. My apologies, sir, for embarrassing you.” She straightened her smooth shoulders and pulled up her fringed shawl over her ivory flesh. “I feel like such a fool. But you can have no idea…” She sighed.
Don’t get involved. She’s a Reb.
Rob’s skin prickled. He moved closer to her until there was no space between them. Her violet scent filled his nostrils. Her lips, moist with her outrageous request, were less than twelve inches from his yearning mouth. He knew they should return to the ballroom before someone missed them. Miss Cobweb did not have any idea of the true cost of a ruined reputation, but Rob knew. Even if she were a Confederate, he did not want to be the one to debauch her. He wanted revenge for his injury, but not at the expense of this innocent. What she needed was a good fright to put some sense back into that pretty head.
The cold moonlight shining through the windowpane glinted in her jade-green eyes. Staring into their depths, Rob tried to ignore their magnetic pull on his senses.
“To ruin a young lady means to take her virtue,” he began in his best attempt to remain impervious to her attractions.
“Oh!” gasped the Fairy Princess. Her eyes grew wider.
Rob continued in a hurry. “A kiss on your lips by a stranger like myself would be enough to ruin a respectable young woman such as yourself.” How he wanted to do it right away!
Puzzlement filled her green orbs. “But I have been kissed already. Frank did that before he went off to fight the…to war,” she finished.
Rob thought of his cold bed back in his hotel. “Why don’t you marry Frank then, instead of this cousin? It would save you a great deal of grief.”
The lady looked down at the floor. “He was killed at Manassas,” she whispered. She touched a silver locket that she wore around her neck. “And he only kissed me once—on the cheek.”
Rob was tempted to take her in his arms for comfort’s sake, but that would defeat the point he was trying to make. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said through stiff lips. “But to return to your present…um…problem.” His loins stiffened. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “If I took improper liberties with you—”
She looked up with warm expectation. “Yes?” she breathed.
Rob groaned as his manhood throbbed under his frock coat. How did he get himself into this hell? He had to end this nonsense quickly before he did something that he would surely regret—later. I must be cruel to be kind.
“To ruin you,” he growled, “my kiss would be hard. It would bruise you.” He tore his gaze away from her lush mouth. “And…and I would not stop with just one kiss. Oh, no, I would kiss you many times…in many places.” Sweat rolled down the back of his neck.
The tip of her pink tongue darted between her lips. “Fascinating!”
Rob squeezed shut his eyes. A sane man could only withstand so much temptation. Miss Cobweb had no idea how warm she had made him. He had to conclude the little lecture now.
“It is quite unpleasant, miss. I doubt you would like it at all—and neither would I,” he ended with a profound lie.
Rob backed away from her and lifted the drape. Fortunately, their corner was still deserted. “It’s high time that we rejoined the party,” he muttered, every nerve in his body aflame.
She gave him a soulful look. “So you will not ruin me after all?”
He pushed her into the supper room. “That remains to be seen.”
Though her plan had failed miserably, Julia felt relieved. Who would have ever guessed that she would happen to find the one and only true gentleman in this roomful of churlish Yankees? She looked up at him and caught his sidelong glance. Though his mask covered half his face, she could tell that she had made him uncomfortable.
To ease the tension, she whispered behind her fan, “I thank you for protecting my reputation, sir, but, at least, could you say that you had your way with me? I mean, if anyone happened to ask you.”
He looked stricken. His mouth thinned, then he replied, “I pray that there will be no inquiries. I have no intention of eating buckshot for breakfast.”
Just then, Joe Jackson announced a polka. Couples at the refreshment table pushed past Julia and her major to claim a spot on the dance floor.
As the music began, Julia saw her sister for the first time that evening. Carolyn was in the center of the room in the arms of an officer wearing bright red Turkish trousers. The man was practically galloping her down the length of the dance floor.
Leaning down, Rob observed, “Now there is a pretty minx who will leave many a broken heart in her wake.” He nodded toward Carolyn. “She’s a candidate for ruination.”
Julia gulped. “I fear you are right. That’s my sister.”
Rob groaned. Then he turned to her with apology in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Forgive me again, Mistress Cobweb. It is the knavish spirit within me. Is your sister named Peaseblossom for the color of her gown?” he added in a rush.
Julia knew her mother would swoon if she saw Carolyn just now. To the major’s anxious look, she remarked, “No, we left Peaseblossom at home to grow some more. That is Mustardseed, so called because she will indeed add a great deal of spice to life.”
Finally, Rob smiled at her just as he had done earlier in the supper room. Hoping that their awkward episode was behind them, Julia returned his smile. Then she glanced back at the dance floor.
“Hellfire!” she gasped with horror under her breath.
As Carolyn’s partner whirled her faster, her sister’s mask slipped down to her neck, revealing her identity for all the world to see!
Chapter Five
Across the room, Melinda Winstead stared at the petite blonde in the blue gown who had skittered to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Within the blink of an eye, the girl pulled up her mask again, but it was too late. Melinda had gotten a good enough look to know that the lively flirt in the arms of a New York Zouave was none other than that brat, Carolyn Chandler.
“What a brazen little hussy!” Melinda hissed, as she watched Carolyn attract all sorts of admiring glances from half the men in the room. She couldn’t have come here alone.
Melinda scanned the other dancers, then her gaze roved over the crowd on the sidelines. She paused when she saw a slim woman in a green gown with that unmistakable auburn hair—and wearing an exact copy of Carolyn’s mask. Melinda snorted through her nose. Julia Chandler! How dare those Secessionists presume to come to her ball! Melinda’s outrage grew even more livid when she noticed that Julia was in the company of an absolutely gorgeous major—easily the handsomest man at the party.
Turning on her heel, Melinda dashed through her guests and crossed the hall to the library where she knew her father entertained some of the older men with bourbon and risqué stories. As she hoped, George Winstead stood at ease with his back to the crackling fire in the center of the book-lined room. Cigar smoke tinted the air blue.
Barely acknowledging the surprised stares of her father’s cronies, Melinda demanded the attention of her frowning parent. She paid no mind to his understandable displeasure at her intrusion into his male sanctum.
“Papa, you must come quickly!” She grabbed him by his arm.
George put down his whiskey glass on the blotter of his polished mahogany desktop. “Here now, young lady. What has happened? Is there a row brewing?” Though his tone was mild, his words held a sharp bite.
Melinda gave him another tug. “Not yet, but there soon will be. Papa, you must come now.”
Giving his hasty apologies to his surprised friends, George allowed her to drag him across to the reception room. His frown deepened when he saw nothing to warrant Melinda’s ill manners. She wanted to stamp her foot with frustration at his obtuseness.
She pointed to Carolyn who had finished romping on the dance floor and now fanned herself on the sidelines to the pleasure of her grinning partner. “Over there, Papa! See her? That’s Carolyn Chandler. She had the brass to come to our house uninvited, and unwanted, too.”
Then she directed her father’s attention to Julia, who crossed the room to join her sister. That too-handsome major followed her like a puppy dog. Disgusting! “And there’s that horrid Julia Chandler. I’m surprised that she could bear to leave her precious books. Their presence insults our family, Papa. Evict them at once!”
George merely patted his daughter’s arm, and shushed her as if she were a four-year-old crying for more ice cream. “Hush up, Melinda,” he said in her ear. “I will do no such thing. How they got in here, I cannot imagine, but since they are under our roof, I will not be inhospitable.”
Melinda gasped as if her father had just doused her with cold water. “Those Chandlers are nothing but trashy Confederates. How can you—?”
George squeezed her arm in a viselike grip. “See here, missy! Dr. Chandler did me the good service of bringing you into this world eighteen years ago. I don’t hold with his sentiments, but he’s a good man at heart, despite his shrew of a wife. Don’t forget that his daughters were once your playmates when you children were in short frocks.”
Melinda pulled herself away from him and rubbed her arm where her skin bore the red imprints of his fingers. “Julia is so puffed up with her book-learning that it makes me want to scream, and her little sister is a brat, plain and simple. They are wrecking our lovely party.” Several nearby guests stopped their conversations and stared at the father and daughter, but Melinda didn’t care.
George whispered in her ear. “Lower your voice or I will send you to your room for the rest of the evening, Miss Winstead. I will not have you cause a scene, especially when none is necessary. The Chandler girls are behaving themselves much better than you, and I see no harm in allowing them a little fun in their lives. Julia hasn’t been out in society since Frank Shaffer died, and little Carolyn not at all.”
He chuckled. “Though I can see that Carolyn has done some growing since the war began. Behave yourself, Melinda, and pay them no mind. They will be gone soon enough, I expect, and there will be an end to the matter. I have paid a great deal of money so that you could enjoy the company of your friends tonight. Now do it and leave me in peace with mine.” With that, he returned to the library.
Melinda’s cheeks burned under her father’s admonishment. He had no right to speak to her that way. Mama would have understood her feelings completely. She certainly wouldn’t want any Confederates under her roof, even if they were former friends. Melinda realized that she had miscalculated which parent she should have approached. She knew without looking, that Papa was speaking to Mama even now, telling her about their uninvited guests and his decision to let them be.
Very well, Melinda decided. She wouldn’t attempt to throw out the Chandlers herself, but that didn’t mean she had to overlook their atrocious lapse in manners. Pasting on her best smile, she swept her way over to Julia and her escort. By the time she reached them, Carolyn had returned to the dance floor with yet another swain. Melinda burned with jealousy. These chits would pay, she vowed.
“Good evening, Julia,” she purred, coming up behind the older girl. It gave her satisfaction to see Julia jump at her name.
The young woman slowly turned around as did the man beside her. Seeing him at closer quarters, Melinda was momentarily distracted from her mission. He had the most beautiful dark brown hair with a curl that dropped over his forehead in an appealing way. Strong jaw, high cheekbones and very, very seductive eyes behind that mask. He was too delicious by a country mile.
Giving herself a shake, Melinda returned to Julia. “What a surprise to see you here—in our house!” she continued in sugar-sweet tones. “I can’t imagine how you got invited, can you, Julia?” She cast a quick smile at the silent man. “Tell me, Major, did you come to our party tonight without a proper invitation?”
He cleared his throat, then replied, “I must confess that I did not receive an invitation from your parents, Miss Winstead, but I came at the request of my cousin, Ben Johnson, who claims that he did. If I am remiss, I will not hesitate to leave.” He drew himself up, which only served to accentuate his height.
Knotting her brows behind her butterfly mask, Melinda swore at herself. She had overstepped some invisible boundary and offended him, when she had only intended to make Julia squirm. Melinda smiled and tried to slip her hand under his right elbow. To her alarm, he pulled back from her the minute she touched him. Confused by his prickliness, she plunged on.
“Lieutenant Johnson has visited us on occasion, Major, and I especially asked that he bring some of his friends this time. I am so delighted that he chose to bring you. On the other hand, Miss Chandler here will find herself in a world of trouble if she keeps inviting herself, and her little sister, to respectable people’s parties.” It gratified Melinda to observe a dark red blush creep over the lower part of Julia’s face.
Melinda locked the major in her gaze, forcing him, out of politeness’ sake, to look at her instead of at the interloper. “Of course, what else could you possibly expect from a Confederate but bad manners?” she continued, savoring Julia’s sudden intake of breath. “I suppose that you know, much better than I do, what these Rebels are like, Major. Nothing but low-bred ruffians.”
Julia gripped her reticule tighter. Her giddiness from the champagne had completely evaporated. She didn’t dare look at Rob’s face. She could guess what his opinion was, now that Melinda had so cruelly explained the situation. First, her scandalous request, now this. Obviously, the ball was over for her, but she would leave with as much grace and dignity as she could muster.
At least, she had had a very lovely time, quite the nicest she had experienced in over two years—even those embarrassing moments spent in the alcove. The music had been excellent and she had enjoyed surveying the new fashions in ball gowns. She still had the caramels in her bag that she could savor over the next few weeks. She prayed that Rob would be chivalrous enough not to betray her secret proposition. She cast him a sidelong glance. He returned hers with a cool expression behind his mask. At least, he did not publicly rebuke her, nor claim her ruination. Now that she was literally unmasked, Julia realized that she would have died on the spot if he said anything.
Gathering the remnants of her composure, she replied to Melinda, “Just look at the time! I had no idea how late it had grown. I must find my sister immediately. Please make our adieus to your parents, Melinda.” She turned to Rob. “Please forgive me, Major Goodfellow. Forgive me for everything. I fear I have kept you from dancing with our charming hostess.” She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Lovely party, Melinda,” she murmured.
Julia turned away before a hovering tear could roll down her cheek below her mask. She dove into the press of people where she spied her sister conversing with several more admirers.
Sliding her arm around Carolyn’s waist, she whispered in her ear. “The cat’s out of the bag. Melinda knows we are here. We have got to go now before she takes it into her flighty head to make a scene.”
Carolyn squeaked a little “oh!”, then smiled at her companions. “Oh, dear, gentlemen, I fear I have over-stayed my time, and my mama would skin me alive if she knew. We have to leave your fine company, but with much regret.”
“Miss Carolyn,” protested one of the men.
Julia stepped into the breach. “I am so sorry, sirs, but I fear my sister speaks the truth. It has been a very great pleasure to have met you all. Come on, Carolyn.”
Before the officers could say anything else, Julia pulled her sister out to the front hall. Once in the cloakroom, Julia sent word for Perkins to meet them outside the front door. The maid in attendance couldn’t understand their haste in departing when some of the guests were only just arriving after late supper parties.
“My sister is feverish,” Julia quickly confided to the servant, “and we don’t want to infect anyone, do we?”
The young woman backed away. “No, miss, we surely don’t.”
Once they donned their cloaks, they swept past the doorman and down the steps to the windswept street. Perkins awaited them on the curb with his lantern held high. He looked both surprised at their early departure and greatly relieved.
“Now, this is the first bit of good sense that you two have shown all day. Let’s be off before the provost’s patrol comes round. We don’t have passes to be out this late.” He started briskly down the sidewalk. Julia and Carolyn hurried after him.
Though Julia was a Confederate, Rob discovered that he could not be angry with her, despite his deep aversion to the Rebels. She had not deliberately deceived him, but had merely sidestepped his questions with quotations from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He regarded Melinda, who returned him a smile of pure triumph.
“They’re playing a waltz, Major,” she hinted. She tried to take his useless arm again.
Rob stepped back, leaving a small but definite space between them. “I do not dance, Miss Winstead. In fact, I find that the pleasure of the evening has somewhat palled. Since I will no doubt be sullen company for you, I beg you to excuse me.”
Melinda gasped. Rob roamed throughout the rooms, looking for Julia and her sister, but both the Chandlers had vanished. Questioning the doorman, he learned that the two young ladies had left only a few moments ago. Rob stepped out onto the front landing and surveyed the street, but the sidewalks on both sides were bare save for a mangy cat that slunk down the far wall in search of a garbage rat.
The cold air sharpened Rob’s senses. Melinda’s spiteful words to Julia had angered him. Even though the lovely Miss Chandler was a Confederate, she was also the most intelligent company he had enjoyed in quite some time. China doll-like Lucy Van Tassel paled in comparison to Julia’s accomplishments. Lucy never opened a book, much less quoted Shakespeare. Nor had she ever displayed any particular talent other than gossiping and changing her clothes five times a day. For the first time since her abrupt termination of their engagement, Rob realized how lucky he had been to escape a lifetime with Lucy.
Not that he was interested in Julia, he told himself. She was a Southern sympathizer, and therefore, beyond further consideration from him. She had been merely a charming diversion on an otherwise deadly evening. Yet, she had looked so wounded by Melinda’s words. He, like a tongue-tied dolt, had said nothing to champion her honor, especially since he was so acutely aware of her innocent virtue. Julia must think that he concurred with Melinda’s sentiments against her. In fact, he abjured them. But he had not been quick enough to tell Julia that, nor to bid her a proper good-night. He should have done that much, at least.
Rob stared down the street again. The skulking cat had disappeared. The only signs of life were the music and laughter inside the Winsteads’ house behind him. Rob opened his timepiece and read its dial by the flicker of the gas lantern over the front door. Nearly midnight. He snapped shut the watch with a snort. Three hours at the ball were up; his time was now his own.
