Dearest Enemy

Inside the wide foyer of Stratford House, the slender, still handsome Jennie Grayson waited to welcome her. “We're awfully glad you could come this morning, Suzanna,” she exclaimed with a warm smile. To her daughter, she said, “Cynthia, dear, why don't you take Suzanna upstairs, where the two of you can relax for an hour before lunch?” Her attention shifted back to Suzanna. “After we've had a leisurely noontime meal, we'll go over the party menu and give you our ideas regarding the decorations. You're always so innovative, the final decision will be yours.”

In Cynthia Ann's bedchamber, a spacious room at the front of the mansion, the two friends gossiped and laughed and shared secrets. With their slippers and crinoline petticoats kicked off, stays loosened, they lay on their backs atop the canopied feather bed.

“Read my palm, Suzanna,” Cynthia Ann said suddenly, turning onto her stomach and holding out her hand.

“Again? I just read it last week.”

“I know, but perhaps something has changed since then. Maybe Davy is going to propose after the party.” Her brown eyes danced at the thought of marrying her gallant sweetheart.

“I don't understand you, Cynthia Ann Grayson,” Suzanna said, toying with the lace jabot at her throat. “Why would you want to get married and ruin your life? Married women don't have any fun, nor thrilling adventures. Worse, no one pays any attention to what they have to say. They're expected to keep silent on any controversial issue as though they don't have a brain in their head. Such a life couldn't possibly be fulfilling.”

“It would be if…”

“I shall never marry. Why should I? I have no need of a husband to take care of me. I can and will take care of myself. And I'll be free to speak as I please and do as I please without having to seek permission from some domineering male.”

Cynthia Ann just shook her head and laughed. She'd heard it all before. She felt certain that Suzanna would change her mind about marriage when the right man came along.

“You have exactly twenty-five minutes to make yourself presentable,” said an annoyed Matthew when Suzanna raced up the front steps of Whitehall at 6:35 that evening.

Laughing, she patted her brother's stern cheek and said, “I need only twenty, so I'll have five to spare.”

He exhaled heavily and followed her inside the well-lit mansion. While he turned toward the paneled library to join their mother, Suzanna climbed the stairs, struggling to unhook her dress. In her rose-and-cream suite at the head of the staircase, Suzanna's ever-patient personal maid, Buelah, waited to help her young charge get dressed.

Impressive in her black-and-white uniform, the stout, six-foot-tall Buelah didn't scold the girl she often called “my baby.” She admired Suzanna's free spirit and always laughed at her antics. Besides, she knew that with her help, Suzanna would be dressed and ready within fifteen minutes.

“Your tub is drawn and waitin',” said Buelah. She took Suzanna's arm, turned her about and made quick work of unhooking her dress.

“Ahh!” Suzanna sighed when, three minutes after walking into the suite, she sank down into the heated water.

Buelah, on her knees beside the tub, scrubbed Suzanna's glistening back with a long-handled brush while Suzanna drew a soapy washcloth down each slim arm.

“I laid out the pale blue velvet dress, the one you've never worn. It'll bring out your eyes. I'll brush your hair up atop your head and hold it in place with that oyster-shell comb.” Buelah chattered on as she drew Suzanna to her feet and began briskly rubbing her dry with a fluffy white towel. Then she followed her young mistress back into the bedroom and helped her don the silky stockings and lacy underthings laid out there. Nineteen minutes after arriving home, Suzanna came down the grand staircase fully clothed and breathtakingly beautiful.

She heard masculine voices and then her mother saying, “So glad you could come this evening, Mr. Bellinggrath.”

Suzanna frowned. She wasn't glad. She fully intended, immediately after dinner, to plead a headache and retire to her suite.

She took a deep breath, stepped down off the bottom stair, crossed the marble-floored foyer and walked into the high-ceilinged drawing room.

The two men came to their feet.

“Ah, there she is,” said her brother. “Ty, may I present my sister, Suzanna. Suzanna, this is my good friend Ty Bellinggrath.”

“Miss LeGrande,” said Ty, taking her offered hand in his. “A genuine pleasure to meet you.” He raised it to his lips and brushed a quick kiss to its soft back.

Young Bellinggrath did not immediately release her hand. Instead, his much larger one closed possessively around her fragile fingers. They stood there staring at each other while her mother and brother looked on.

For the first time in her life, Suzanna was speechless. She didn't say she was pleased to meet him. She didn't say anything. Not one word. She gazed up at the tall, slim, handsome blond man and felt her breath catch in her throat. His pale golden hair gleamed in the light of the chandelier and his luminous blue eyes sparkled with unmasked interest.

After several silent seconds, Matthew cleared his throat and said, “I believe Cook is signaling that dinner is ready.”

Suzanna and Ty had momentarily forgotten they were not alone. Both broke into nervous laughter.

But he didn't let go of her hand.

Three

“Shall we go in to dinner?” Matthew said, helping their mother to her feet. “Suzanna, why don't you show our guest into the dining room.”

Suzanna freed her hand, but immediately slipped possessive fingers around Ty's arm. “If you'll kindly come with me, Mr. Bellinggrath,” she said, and flashed him her most dazzling smile.

“Indeed, I'd be honored, Miss LeGrande,” said the shy, well-mannered Bellinggrath.

He graciously allowed himself to be propelled into the candlelit dining room by the determined Suzanna. Behind them, Matthew and Emile exchanged looks of surprise. Never had they seen Suzanna exhibit such unveiled interest in a would-be suitor.

Ty pulled out the chair Suzanna indicated, and she slipped into it. But when Matthew drew out the chair directly beside it, Suzanna said, sweetly but firmly, “Mother, why don't you sit across from us? Mr. Bellinggrath will sit here by me.”

Again Matthew and Emile exchanged glances, and Matthew couldn't hide a hint of a smile as he ushered his mother to the other side of the table. When Emile was seated, Ty sat down in the chair beside Suzanna, while Matthew took his own at the head of the table.

After shaking out a white damask napkin and draping it over his right knee, Matthew lifted the small silver bell beside his plate. He gave it a forceful shake. A pair of male servants in spotless black uniforms and snowy white gloves instantly appeared. One poured iced water into crystal goblets and port wine into tall stemmed glasses. The other placed bowls of chilled vichyssoise before each diner.

The meal began.

For the first time in her life, Suzanna found that she was not hungry. Not at all. Neither was Ty Bellinggrath. Hot yeast rolls and creamery butter did not tempt either of them. They hardly touched the rare roast beef and carefully steamed vegetables. Even the baked Alaska, Suzanna's favorite, sat melting on their plates.

Suzanna had no appetite, no interest in food. She was interested only in Ty Bellinggrath. His blond, blue-eyed good looks and quiet, gentlemanly manner made him tremendously appealing. She liked hearing him speak, his voice pleasingly low and well-modulated. She liked the way he shyly smiled, the corners of his full lips lifting ever so slightly. A bashful little-boy smile, touchingly adorable. At the same time there was about him a calm demeanor and dignified bearing that denoted strength and dependability.

Added to his physical attributes was his sharp intellect. He was wise and well-versed on a wide range of subjects, yet modest, clearly averse to flaunting his knowledge. He challenged her own keen mind, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was heartened to find her so smart. But he was not astonished as most gentlemen were.

The dinner conversation was lively and diverse, and Suzanna listened as, prompted by Matthew, Ty spoke about his recent travels through Europe. He painted vivid word pictures of Paris, that fabled City of Light. He told of the cafés lined with tables facing the street, where he had sat in the warm sun and sipped vermouth while watching the passersby. He described the flower sellers with their fresh blossoms. The boulevardiers in long-tailed coats and goatees. The open-air carriages rolling by conveying happy, handsome couples. The shop windows on the Rue de la Paix. The tree-bordered Champs-Élysées.

Concluding, he pointed out that he had returned to America only last week and that he was very glad to be home. He glanced at Suzanna when he said it, and she nodded, smiling. She was very glad as well.

The meal ended and the foursome went back into the drawing room. Inclining his head, Matthew suggested Suzanna play the piano for their enjoyment. Generally, such a suggestion drew quick protests and mean faces from his sister. She was no circus performer! She would not would jump through hoops to prove she had laudable feminine talents that might make her more attractive to the opposite sex!

But Ty gently coaxed, “Yes, Miss Suzanna, won't you, please…?”

“Only if you'll agree to sit beside me while I play,” she said sweetly.

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied in that low, soft drawl that so suited him.

Matthew and Emile sipped their coffee, unable to believe what they were seeing—Suzanna seated at the square pianoforte, playing Chopin beautifully and smiling warmly at the blushing blond man who sat beside her.

The impromptu recital ended.

Ty rose and drew her to her feet. “That was lovely, Miss Suzanna. I truly enjoyed it.” Suzanna beamed with pride. Ty then turned and said, “Mrs. LeGrande, Matthew, thank you so much for inviting me to dinner. It was a most pleasant evening and I appreciate your hospitality. Now I really must be going.”

“So soon?” Suzanna said, visibly disappointed. “Why, it's early yet, not even nine. Don't go.”