Twin of Fire Read online





  Books by Jude Deveraux

  The Velvet Promise

  Highland Velvet

  Velvet Song

  Velvet Angel

  Sweetbriar

  Counterfeit Lady

  Lost Lady

  Riverlady

  Twin of Fire

  Twin of Ice

  The Temptress

  The Raider

  The Princess

  The Awakening

  The Maiden

  The Taming

  The Conquest

  A Knight in Shining Armor

  Wishes

  Mountain Laurel

  The Duchess

  Eternity

  Sweet Liar

  The Invitation

  Remembrance

  The Heiress

  Legend

  An Angel for Emily

  The Blessing

  High Tide

  Temptation

  The Summerhouse

  Forever…A Novel of Good and Evil, Love and Hope

  Published by POCKET BOOKS

  This book is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to non-historical figures are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such non-historical incidents, places or figures to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Copyright © 1985 by Deveraux Inc.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-5935-8

  ISBN-10: 0-7434-5935-0

  POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  http://www.SimonSays.com

  Thank You

  I’d like to thank the two editors I had on these books, Kate Duffy and Linda Marrow. They read rewrite after rewrite, some of them in my microscopic handwriting, and they listened to me for hours on end. My characters didn’t sneeze that they didn’t discuss it with me and they never once lost patience.

  Thank you to all the Colorado librarians. Heaven is peopled with Colorado librarians.

  I’d like to thank Dr. Tom Dilday and Dr. Curtis Boyd for talking to me about repairing broken bodies. And Annette Swanberg for going out of her way to take me to the Huntington house for one more look.

  And I’d like to thank Glenna Boyd for taking me for walks in beautiful places, then listening to me for hours blabbing about dynamite and four-horse-team versus six-horse-team wagons and The Sisterhood. I will try to look at the scenery in the future.

  I’d also like to thank Ron Busch, who believed that I could make it and brought me into the family of the best publishing house in the world.

  Author’s Note

  Until I started researching my novels, I had the idea that, until after WWI, men and women were content with their roles in life. I thought women sweetly submitted to their husbands and husbands were happy with their docile women.

  But when I delved into the medieval period, I was shocked to find out that, even in the fourteenth century, women were writing very modern sounding books on the oppression of women by men. And as for the men, there’s a joke that made the rounds long before Shakespeare used it that said a prize would be given to any man who could command his wife to follow him and she would obey with no questions asked or excuses as to why she couldn’t go. As the story goes, the prize is still waiting to be handed out.

  If I was shocked in my medieval research, there’s no word to describe what I discovered while looking into the nineteenth century. I have read a great deal of twentieth century feminist writings, but nothing today is more militant than that written by nineteenth century women. They were fighting exactly the same battles: for equal pay, against rape and wife beating, to make laws so men could not kidnap their children from their ex-wives, and for hundreds of other reforms. The big difference seemed to be that for every book a woman wrote about sexual equality, a man wrote a book stating that if women didn’t get back into the kitchen, they were going to destroy the world. Now, a hundred years later, it looks as though women are still fighting, while men have almost given up. Too bad, because, as I think it’s obvious from my writing, I just love a good rousing argument.

  Twin of Fire

  Prologue

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  April 1892

  “Surprise!” eleven people shouted as Blair Chandler entered the dining room of her Uncle Henry’s house. She was a pretty young woman, with dark brown hair highlighted with red glints, wide-set blue-green eyes, a straight, aristocratic nose and a small, perfectly shaped mouth.

  Blair paused for a moment, blinking back tears of happiness, as she looked at the people in front of her. There were her aunt and uncle, Alan beside them, watching her with love in his eyes, and surrounding him were her fellow medical students—one woman and seven men. As they beamed at her with pleasure, standing behind the table heaped with gifts, she couldn’t seem to remember the past few years of struggle to graduate and earn her medical degree.

  Aunt Flo, with the grace of a young girl, hurried forward. “Don’t just stand there, dear. Everyone is dying to see your gifts.”

  “This one first,” Uncle Henry said, holding out a large package.

  Blair thought she knew what was in the box, but she was afraid to hope. When she tore away the wrapping and saw the leather case with the clean, new medical instruments, she sat down heavily in the chair behind her, unable to speak. All she could do was run a finger over the brass plate on the bag. It read: Dr. B. Chandler, M.D.

  Alan broke the awkward silence. “Is this the woman who put the rotten eggs in the surgeon instructor’s wardrobe? Is this the woman who stood up to the entire Philadelphia Board of Hospitals?” Bending, he put his lips close to her ear. “Is this the woman who placed first in the exams at St. Joseph’s and became the first woman to intern on their staff?”

  It was a moment before Blair could react. “Me?” she whispered, looking up at him, her mouth open in disbelief.

  “You won your internship,” Aunt Flo said, her face beaming. “You’re to start in July, just as soon as you return from your sister’s wedding.”

  Blair was looking from one person to the other. She had tried her best for St. Joseph’s, had even hired a tutor to help her prepare for the tests, but she’d been told that this city hospital, as opposed to a women’s clinic, did not accept female physicians.

  She turned to her Uncle Henry. “You’ve had a hand in this, haven’t you?”

  Henry swelled his big barrel chest with pride. “I merely made a wager that if my niece didn’t score higher than anyone ever had on their test, they didn’t have to give her a position. In fact, I told them you’d even consider giving up medicine and staying home to take care of Alan. I don’t think they could resist the chance to see a lady doctor brought to her senses.”

  For a moment, Blair felt a little weak. She’d had no idea that so much had been riding on that treacherous three-day test.

  “You made it,” Alan laughed. “Although I’m not sure I like being the consolation prize.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Congratulations, sweetheart. I know how much you wanted this.”

  Aunt Flo handed her a letter that gave confirmation that she had indeed been accepted at St. Joseph’s Hospital for internship. Blair clutched the paper to her breast and looked at the people around her. Right now, she thought, my entire life is stretching b