Counterfeit Courtship
Second Chance ReunionReturning home, Confederate hero Colonel Graham Talbot faces his toughest battle yet—avoiding the marriage-minded young ladies in town vying for his attentions. With a stepmother and orphaned niece to support, the penniless soldier has no intention of marrying. Neither does the woman he once loved, his next-door neighbor Ellie Anderson. But Ellie has a proposal of her own: a pretend courtship to keep their unwanted admirers at bay.Ellie’s unpredictable childhood left her determined to safeguard her independence—and her plantation. Blaming herself for driving Graham away to war, she devises a plan to help them both. But when it goes awry, Ellie will face a choice: save her beloved property…or trust in a relationship that’s becoming undeniably real.
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Second Chance Reunion
Returning home, Confederate hero Colonel Graham Talbot faces his toughest battle yetâavoiding the marriage-minded young ladies in town vying for his attentions. With a stepmother and orphaned niece to support, the penniless soldier has no intention of marrying. Neither does the woman he once loved, his next-door neighbor Ellie Anderson. But Ellie has a proposal of her own: a pretend courtship to keep their unwanted admirers at bay.
Ellieâs unpredictable childhood left her determined to safeguard her independenceâand her plantation. Blaming herself for driving Graham away to war, she devises a plan to help them both. But when it goes awry, Ellie will face a choice: save her beloved property...or trust in a relationship thatâs becoming undeniably real.
âEllie, you need a husband.â
âYouâre a fine one to think so.â
Grahamâs downcast gaze cut into Ellie like a cotton hoe. âIâve always thought so,â he said, his voice quiet.
âI meant you have no room to speak, since you refuse to marry, too.â
âWith good reason.â
âMy reason is good, too.â
âThen letâs hear it.â
She knew she shouldnât have told him how good her reason was, knew heâd take it as a challenge. And one thing sheâd never seen Graham Talbot do was back down from a challenge. âI donât want to, thatâs all.â
She couldnât explain to him the horror of being orphaned, of being taken in by strangers. Relying on her father to provide for herâand being disappointedâhad been one thing. Depending on neighbors for daily food was another.
Never again would she depend on anyone else to provide for her. Her uncle had taken the past thirteen years to teach her to be a planter. Not a planterâs wife.
And a planter she would be.
CHRISTINA MILLER has always lived in the past. Her passion for history began with her grandmotherâs stories of 1920s rural southern Indiana. When Christina began to write fiction, she believed God was calling her to write what she knew: history. A Bethany College of Missions graduate, pastorâs wife and worship leader, Christina lives on the familyâs farm with her husband of twenty-seven years and Sugar, their talking dog.
I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
âPhilippians 4:13
To Jesus, the giver of dreams and gifts...
To my husband, Jan, my real-life hero and man of God who has always believed in me...
To my mother, who taught me to read as soon as I was big enough to hold a book...
To my father, who taught me that I could do anything I set my mind to.
With gratitude to...
Miss Mimi Miller, Executive Director of The Historic Natchez Foundation, for helping me with countless historical accuracies and details and becoming my lively new friend.
Mr. Terry Trovato, Dunleith Historic Inn docent and storyteller, for brightening this book with his tales and historic tidbits. What a delight it was to write portions of this book in the parlor, dining room and galleries of Dunleith, the house after which I patterned Grahamâs home.
Dina Davis, my amazing editor, whose expert skills made my book sing. I canât imagine this journey without her!
Mary Sue Seymour, the sweetest and wisest agent in the business.
Aunt Sister Sylvia Gehlhausen, who gave me a quiet place to write in her ancient, enormous home.
Contents
Natchez, Mississippi
June, 1865
Colonel Graham Talbot slid from his mare and eased the reins over a live oak branch, the need for stealth and silence driving him. He crouched low to the ground and prayed that Dixie wouldnât whinny and give away his position.
As he surveyed the surrounding area, a gang of five appeared from behind the stable. How had they gotten there without him seeing them? And how had they known when he would arrive?
Crossing toward the imposing structure in the open air would make him vulnerable, but if he stayed where he was, theyâd be on him in moments. He had to take the chance that they wouldnât look his way. Staying low, he rushed for the next oak. Just a hundred more yards and heâd make itâ
âColonel Talbot, is that you? Sneaking through your own backyard?â The shrill, syrupy voice brought him to a halt. âWeâve been waiting for you for days.â
He stood and raised his hands in surrender. Just as heâd feared, heâd been captured by a force he dreaded more than a platoon of Yankees: a mob of husband-hunting Natchez girls.
As the gaggle of simpering females emerged from the side yard of his stepmotherâs town house, Graham held in a groan. Their exaggerated giggles and faded finery didnât improve his mood.
