Dearest Enemy. Nan Ryan

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.”

      “You're kind, Miss Suzanna, but…”

      “What would it take to make you stay?” she asked anxiously, her heart overruling her head. “I can do more than just play the piano, you know. I read palms! I can predict the future. I do some great tricks with a deck of playing cards. I can tilt my head back, balance a full wineglass on my forehead and, without using my hands, sink all the way down to the floor and stretch out on my back without spilling a single drop! I can—”

      “Mind your manners, Suzanna!” Matthew scolded. Emile frowned disapprovingly at her daughter.

      Ty Bellinggrath was laughing, charmed by this outspoken young beauty. With her at his side, he crossed to the sofa, smiled at her mother and said, “Good night, Mrs. LeGrande. Again, thank you so much.”

      “Do come back again, young man,” said Emile.

      Matthew was on his feet now, ready to see his guest to the door. But the shy, retiring Ty said, “Please, stay where you are, Matt. Miss Suzanna will see me out.” He shifted his focus to her. “Won't you?”

      “I will!” she eagerly exclaimed, lifting her bell-like skirts and preceding him out of the room and into the foyer. When he would have paused there to bid her good-night, she drew him out the front door and onto the chilly, moon-splashed veranda. There she turned to face him and eagerly asked, “Are you going to the Graysons' reception next Saturday evening at Stratford House?”

      “If you are, I am.”

      She liked his answer and told him, “I'll be there.”

      “Then so will I.”

      Suzanna started to speak, but Ty lifted a hand and touched her cheek lightly. His eyes flashed in the moonlight when he whispered, “Till then, Suzanna.”

      Four

      The pressure of Ty's hand at her waist was intensely exciting to Suzanna. That and the warm look in his eyes as he gazed down at her.

      The two of them spun about the ballroom's crowded floor at Stratford House, oblivious to the other dancers. Lost in the first thrilling blush of budding romance, they were only vaguely aware of the seductive milieu surrounding them, engulfing them. Bouquets of freshly cut hothouse flowers. Candlelight falling on the polished parquet floor. The subtle scents of expensive perfumes. The swish of silks and satins and the flash of diamonds. Soft laughter and haunting violins and chilled champagne.

      The romantic evening was to become even more so when, midway through the glittering reception, the clearly smitten Ty said against Suzanna's ear, “It's grown quite warm in here, hasn't it?”

      To which she laughed and promptly replied, “Mother said never say ‘hot.' Why don't we go outdoors and get a breath of the fresh night air?”

      Ty paused midstep. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

      “And I have, so let's go.”

      “I wouldn't want to compromise you, Miss Suzanna. Matthew would have my hide if I—”

      “Matthew need never know. And will you kindly stop calling me Miss Suzanna?” She glanced warily around, then whispered, “I'll pretend I need to freshen up. Once upstairs, I'll slip down the back way and meet you in the rear gardens. No one will be there.”

      “An ingenious plan,” he said admiringly, and eagerly ushered her off the floor and through the crowd. Suzanna stopped just before they exited the ballroom, reached out and plucked an ivory gardenia from a huge bouquet in a tall porcelain vase beside the arched doorway. Then she preceded Ty into the foyer.

      But before they could cross the crowded vestibule, they encountered Matthew.

      “Have you heard the news?” he asked, taking no notice of the fact that they had left the ballroom. “Colonel Robert E. Lee has sent his apology. He will not be attending this evening.”

      “Is Mrs. Lee feeling worse?” asked Suzanna, hoping she didn't look guilty.

      “No, it's not that. Lee's leave has been abruptly canceled. He has been called back to duty immediately.”

      Ty Bellinggrath frowned. “The John Brown raid at Harper's Ferry?”

      “Yes. Our host, Ronald Grayson, just told me that Colonel Lee's been dispatched to Harper's Ferry in command of the United States troops. He received orders from the secretary of war to take the evening train there.”

      “The affair must be more serious than we'd presumed,” said Ty thoughtfully.

      Matthew nodded, sharing Ty's concern. “They're holding a number of citizens hostage and threatening their lives. It's a dangerous situation that could erupt—”

      “I'm sure Colonel Lee will soon have everything under control,” Suzanna interrupted, anxious to get away from her brother, refusing to allow anything to spoil this perfect evening. “You'll excuse me, Matt,” she said. “I was just going to freshen up.”

      “Yes, of course. Go ahead.” Matthew made a move toward the ballroom. “You coming, Ty?”

      “Ah…no…I…You go on,” Ty said, feeling heat rising to his face. “Think I'll step out onto the veranda for a minute. It's growing quite stuffy inside.”

      “Good enough. See you both later,” said Matthew, and left them.

      “That was close,” Ty commented.

      “He doesn't suspect a thing,” Suzanna assured him.

      At the base of the grand staircase, Ty winked at Suzanna and whispered, “Five minutes.”

      “Make it four.” She lifted her bronze taffeta skirts and dashed up the stairs.

      On the landing, Suzanna encountered Cynthia Ann coming out of her bedroom. Suzanna immediately put her finger to her lips, then she drew her best friend close and whispered in her ear, “I'm meeting Ty Bellinggrath in the terraced back gardens!”

      “Suzanna LeGrande!”

      “Shh! Don't tell a soul. We bumped into Matt downstairs and I told him I was going to your room. Should he mention my absence, assure him I am upstairs.”

      Nodding, happy to share her friend's secret, Cynthia Ann asked, “Are you going to let him…kiss you?”

      “Bite your tongue, Cynthia Ann Grayson! Of course not,” Suzanna stated emphatically. Then she grinned and whispered, “But I will make him wish he could kiss me.” Both girls giggled. “I must go,” said Suzanna, hugging her friend. Then she was gone, with Cynthia Ann looking after her.

      

      Unhurriedly, Ty crossed the wide foyer, nodding to acquaintances, exchanging respectful pleasantries with his elders. Once out the front door, he anxiously crossed the veranda and skipped down the wide stone steps. His heart beginning to beat rapidly, he sprinted around the mansion.

      He found Suzanna waiting beneath a decorative marble statue, the moonlight striking her full in the face, the night breeze swirling locks of her hair around her head. In her hand she held the fragrant gardenia she had plucked from the bouquet inside the ballroom.

      Ty approached.

      When he reached her, neither said anything. They stood for a long moment, gazing at each other. Finally, Suzanna lifted the gardenia, carefully tucked it into Ty's lapel, and said, “Next time I do this—put a blossom in your lapel—it will be our secret signal that you will be allowed to kiss me before the evening is over.”

      Ty trembled at the prospect. He reached for her hand and took it in both of his. “Will it be long before you…?”

      “We'll