Beloved Enemy. Mary Schaller

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Beloved Enemy - Mary Schaller


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Yankee than brass buttons and polished boots—and those beautiful teeth. Perhaps this was the Yankee she would allow to “ruin” her.

      Julia smiled up at him. “Either I mistake your shape and making quite, or else you are that—” here Julia dropped the next word, “rude”, and continued “—that knavish sprite called Robin Goodfellow. Are you not he?”

      Again he looked as if she had surprised him. This time his smile was warmer. He made a mock bow to her. “You have truly found me out, Fairy Princess. Which one are you? Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth or Mustardseed?” he asked, naming the four fairy handmaidens from the play.

      Delighted to continue this unexpected literary wordplay, Julia tapped her fan against the side of her cheek while she pretended to give the matter serious consideration. She felt very light and airy. “Cobweb, because I weave many webs of intrigue,” she answered with more than a grain of truth. If she continued to hold his interest, maybe she could lure him into a dark corner where her books said that men ruined young ladies. Unfortunately, her references had not described the details.

      Just then, three more young officers in blue surrounded them; all of them held crystal cups overflowing with creamy eggnog.

      “There you are, Rob!” cried the most inebriated member of the group. “It cheers me to the very soul to see that you are having a good time.”

      The other two men raised their cups and shouted “Hear, hear” before draining their contents.

      Leaning close to Julia’s ear, Rob whispered, “Pay them no mind. It’s only my cousin and some of his friends.”

      His warm breath tickled her skin in the most amazing and thoroughly delightful manner. She shivered inwardly with excitement. Behind her fan, she replied, “I, too, am infected with cousins, though mine are much less pleasant than yours.” She grimaced as she thought of Payton. She must implement her plan soon before she lost her courage or the effects of the champagne wore off.

      “These merry souls are Flute and Snout,” Rob said, pointing to his cousin’s friends, naming two more characters from Shakespeare’s romantic comedy. Looking surprised, the officers toasted the couple again, then they drained their cups. “My cousin is deservedly known as Bottom, for he is always found at the bottom of the heap.”

      The cousin looked from Rob to Julia. He grinned. “Alas, I see once more that I am to play the fool for Rob. If he is disturbing you, miss, you can call on me for assistance. I am Ben, that is, Benjamin Johnson, at your humble service.” He hiccuped.

      Rob glared at the high-spirited young man.

      Julia took her companion’s displeasure as a compliment. Behind her fan, she observed to Rob, “I do believe he is nearing the bottom of his cup now.” She smiled to let him know that she was jesting.

      Ben saluted them with his now-empty glass. “I can tell when I have been given my pass to leave, and so I shall. I am your obedient servant, miss. Go dance with her, Rob!” he added as he stumbled off to rejoin his friends at the flowing eggnog bowl.

      Rob stiffened. Without looking directly at him, Julia sensed a chill curtain had suddenly crashed down between them. He must not know how to dance, she surmised. To put him back at ease, she smiled.

      “I fear that I cannot dance, Major Robin Goodfellow.” Holding up her bulging reticule, she giggled. “I would lose all my newfound wealth if I attempted to twirl around the floor. As you well know, I have gone to great pains to gather these confections.”

      He relaxed a fraction. “Then we shall not dance. I would hate to have to crawl across the ballroom trying to retrieve your…um…possessions.”

      Aloud, she continued, “But we could watch the others cavort and discuss the merits of their style.”

      He nodded, though he did not smile as broadly as he had done before his cousin’s intrusion. Julia was sorry for that. This Robin Goodfellow had the most wonderful smile she had ever seen. Don’t be such a green goose, her common sense scolded her as Rob led her into the ballroom. The only reason she found him so charming was due to lack of male company for the past two years.

      Following behind him, she noticed that he kept his right hand deep in the pocket of his coat. She wondered if he knew that it was rude for a gentleman to put his hands in his pockets while in polite company, but since he was so charming otherwise—and because she knew that she would never see him again after tonight—she decided to ignore this breach of manners. After all, he was from New York and probably didn’t know any better.

      For the next half hour, Julia and the major traded witty remarks about their fellow guests. Julia drank another glass of champagne to steady her resolve. The music swelled louder and the dancing became more abandoned. The room grew more stuffy. She never knew that candles could put out so much heat. Julia fanned more rapidly. The colors of the ladies’ gowns melded together in a swirling rainbow. Julia pressed her hand to her temple. It occurred to her that she had perhaps overimbibed.

      The major leaned over her. “Are you unwell, Mistress Cobweb?”

      Julia licked her dry lips. “I fear that I require some fresh air. If you would be so kind as to escort me to a window?” She swallowed hard. Now was the perfect time to initiate her plan, if only her head didn’t feel so wobbly.

      “Of course,” the Yankee muttered. His slipped his left arm around her waist and gently guided her toward an alcove at the far end of the supper room. “Are you feeling faint?”

      She felt faint and terrified, excited and nervous. But Julia shook her head. Her holly wreath slipped a little over her right ear. Its stiff leaves pricked her skin, prodding her more awake.

      Rob held back the brocaded curtain so that Julia could pass under it. The tiny space between the drapes and the window seemed very dark after the brilliance of the supper room. Good, she thought, as she watched him fumble with the window’s latch. He won’t see how frightened I am. As he raised the sash, she gulped in the bracing cold air. Payton’s face suddenly rose in her mind. She shuddered. Do it now!

      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


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