Love Thine Enemy. Louise M. Gouge

Sadie was kept busy serving those awful soldiers and could not care for her child as she ought to. Laying the child on the bed, Rachel quickly changed him, cooing to him all the while.

      “There, little one. I’ve not forgot how to do this. Gracious knows I changed my nieces and nephew often enough these past few years.” And the three of them healthily plump, while this wee tyke’s ribs were all too visible.

      The baby whimpered as she set him back down in the pen, a splintery structure made from an old shipping crate and far different from the sanded, polished beds her sister’s children slept in. And nothing more than an old tin cup, empty at that, for a toy.

      “I must go, sweet boy.” Rachel thought her heart would break. “I’m certain Mama will come feed you soon.”

      Only by force of will could she hasten down the stairs to join Jamie in the entry hall.

      “What is it, Rachel?” With a frown, he stared into her eyes. “You look distraught.”

      “Sadie’s little one.” She bent her head toward the staircase. “He spends his days alone in her room while she must fend off those dreadful soldiers.”

      Jamie’s face softened. “You have a kind heart, cousin. Hmm, didn’t Sadie say her husband is a soldier, too?”

      “Aye, but that doesn’t seem to protect her.” She lowered her voice. “And I’ve learned he’s serving under General Gage. Perhaps he even fought against our men at Concord.”

      “Rachel—”

      “Yes, yes, I know.” She moved past him out the inn’s front door.

      The East Florida heat blazed down on their covered heads as they walked the sandy road toward the sturdy wooden structure Papa had purchased for his mercantile. But Rachel could be concerned with only one matter—a poor, hungry little baby left alone in a room all day.

      “I’ve changed my mind,” she said as they reached the store. “There is something I want you to bring me when you return.”

      He swept off his broad-brimmed hat and gave her an exaggerated bow. “Name it, milady, and I’ll sail the seven seas to obtain it.”

      She dipped a playful curtsy. “Why, thank you, kind sir. But there’s no need for that. Just bring a toy for little Robby.” She sobered. “Do you mind?”

      “Anything for you, milady.” He caught her hand and placed a noisy kiss on it.

      “Ah, such gallantry.” Caring not a whit what onlookers might think, Rachel reached up and kissed his cheek.

      After a week of planning with Mrs. Winthrop, Frederick rode into town to invite more guests to his party. His first visit had been to Major Brigham, the garrison’s new commander, who along with his stylish bride had responded eagerly to his invitation. Several others also promised to attend. With a similar response from the merchants, the party would be complete.

      Frederick rode past the inn and saw the innkeeper’s wife and daughter hanging laundry on a line. Mrs. Winthrop had been aghast when he had suggested inviting them, and now her wisdom was confirmed as he observed their unkempt appearance and heard their uncouth language.

      A half mile from the inn, he spied Miss Folger with a brawny fellow who was bent over her hand like an adoring swain. The young lady then reached up to kiss the man’s cheek, and an odd pang coursed through Frederick’s chest. Did she dole out kisses to every man, or was this one a particular friend? He shook his head. Why should it matter to him?

      The fellow straightened and offered his arm, and the two entered Folger’s Mercantile. Frederick tethered his horse to a post under a nearby oak tree and followed them inside.

      The door had no sooner shut behind him than the three inside turned to him in surprise. Was that a glare emanating from the young lady’s face, or were her eyes merely adjusting to the inside light, as were his?

      “Good morning, sir.” Mr. Folger limped forward to welcome him. “How can I help ye?”

      “Good morning, my good man. Miss Folger.” Frederick removed his hat, nodded to the father and daughter, and cast an inquisitive glance toward the big man behind Folger.

      “Ah, ye’ve not met my partner.” Folger urged the man forward. “Mr. Moberly, this is my nephew, Captain Templeton, who now commands my old ship.”

      The younger captain’s steady gaze was a clear and bold appraisal of Frederick.

      In an instant, the air seemed sparked with invisible lightning. Instinctively, Frederick took on the unassuming pose he had perfected as the youngest of four sons to keep from being whipped into his proper place. Hating himself for it, he nonetheless feigned amiability and reached out to shake the other man’s hand rather than meet his challenge and put him in his place. Who was this man that he would boldly stare at a superior?

      “Captain Templeton,” Frederick said.

      “Moberly.” Templeton’s guarded frown softened as they shook hands. “You’ve done a right fine job in building St. Johns Settlement. Perhaps we can do business in the future.”

      “Indeed?” Frederick glanced at Folger.

      “Aye.” The older man’s broad smile suggested his eagerness to foster a friendship among the three of them. “A wise man’s always on the lookout for good business associates.”

      “Well said.” Frederick wondered if he had been mistaken about the younger captain’s earlier demeanor.

      The conversation turned to weather, the war up north, anticipated shipping problems, the feasibility of planting more citrus groves and prices of goods. All possible storms were dispelled as the three men enthusiastically expressed their concerns and opinions as if they had been in trade together for years. The amity in the air felt good after Oliver’s betrayal.

      He noticed Miss Folger had busied herself with the bolts of lace and ribbons behind the counter. With her back to him, he could see the delicate lines of her ivory neck, with a few blond curls escaping from her mobcap to trail over the white collar of her brown dress.

      Templeton must have caught the direction of his gaze, for he cleared his throat. “Did you wish to speak with my cousin?” His tone sounded like the growl of a protective bear.

      Irritation swept through Frederick, but again, he was all amiability. “Indeed, I did.”

      She turned around, puzzlement lifting her eyebrows into a charming arch. “To me?”

      Frederick hesitated. “Perhaps I should say to you and your father.” He nodded to Templeton. “And now to you, as well.”

      Folger appeared more than a little pleased. “Say on, sir.”

      “I am planning a dinner party for those whom I consider the leading citizens of this community and surrounding areas. I should like to invite you and Miss Folger—” He included Templeton with a quick glance. “All three of you to join us one week from Saturday at my plantation.”

      Their stunned expressions nearly sent Frederick into a schoolboy’s guffaw. Did these people know nothing of parties? Had they never received such an invitation?

      “Why, that’s quite an honor, sir.” Folger straightened as if he had been knighted by the king himself. “Of course I accept.”

      “And you, Miss Folger? Will you attend with your father?”

      Her wide-eyed gaze darted from him to her father to Templeton and back to him again. “Why, I—I haven’t anything to wear to such a grand occasion.”

      “Why, Rachel, what a thing to say in front of these gentlemen.” The color deepened in Folger’s ruddy cheeks. “As if yer papa couldn’t provide a proper gown for ye.”

      The young lady’s corresponding blush bespoke her modesty, a pleasing sight.

      Frederick looked at Templeton.