Defiant Impostor (8 page)

"Do you remember me, Miss Camille? You've surely
changed since I saw you last. You were just a little one then, no taller than
my knees. I wouldn't have known you except for your pretty hair and eyes. My,
you've grown into a fine beauty, just like your mama."

Taken aback, Susanna had no idea who this woman was.
Adam did not readily come to her aid but seemed somewhat surprised himself that
she did not know the woman's name.

"Ertha," he finally murmured, after an
awkward silence.

Susanna flushed warmly, embarrassed that she'd
forgotten all about Camille's childhood nurse.

Camille had always spoken of Ertha fondly—the woman had
been like a mother to her, Constance Cary having died when Camille was barely
one year old—but she had never really given Susanna any clear description of
her. Camille had been so young when Captain Keyes had escorted her to England
that her recollections of the woman were uncertain at best. Camille had simply
remembered Ertha for her warm, constant presence; her soft, crooning voice
singing her to sleep with lullabies.

Hoping to compensate for her blunder, Susanna turned
back to the woman, who looked crestfallen, and took her hands, squeezing them
gently.

"Of course. Forgive me, Ertha. I don't know what
came over me. It's been so long . . ."

"Don't trouble yourself, child," Ertha said
graciously, although some of the light had left her eyes. "It was a long
time ago. I shouldn't have expected that you might remember me."

Again silence fell between them, broken when Adam
interjected, "Ertha has been Briarwood's head housekeeper for fifteen
years now. She has a gift for making everything run smoothly and a firm but
gentle knack for keeping the others in line. I'm sure you'll be pleased with
her work."

"I know I will," Susanna replied, wishing
there was some way she could make up for her unintended slight. Releasing the
woman's hands, she looked up at Adam, hoping she appeared convincingly
fatigued.

In truth, she did feel drained. Her new position in
life was so overwhelming and her responsibilities so great that her
well-meaning masquerade suddenly weighed very heavily upon her. She needed some
time alone to gather herself together. "If you don't mind, Mr. Thornton, I
would like to see my room now. I could use a short rest before dinner."

His deep brown eyes were concerned, but she also sensed
his agitation. "You're not ill . . ."

"No, simply tired." Then, feeling the need to
reassure everyone present when she saw some nervous sidelong glances, she
added, "The physician gave me a clean bill of health before I left the
ship. You mustn't worry about me."

Yet when Adam still appeared unconvinced, irritation
tweaked at her. What was he so concerned about? "You seem troubled, Mr.
Thornton," she said a bit too curtly, forgetting herself. "Perhaps
you think I should not set foot in my house until you're certain that I'm free
of disease?"

"I wasn't thinking that at all," he replied,
his expression one of curious surprise. Then he smiled slightly, as if amused.
"By all means, go in. Ertha's had the household staff working for days to
have everything ready for you."

Silently cursing her heedless tongue and telling
herself she must be more careful so as not to arouse suspicion, Susanna
softened her tone, although she remained annoyed. "If you'll kindly excuse
me, then." Without waiting for him, she walked up the stairs to the door.
She certainly didn't need him to escort her everywhere, especially not into her
new home.

"I'll see you at dinner, Miss Cary. Enjoy your rest."

Susanna glanced over her shoulder to find Adam striding
back toward the carriage, and for the first time, she noticed that he walked
with a slight limp. Yet his bearing was straight and strong, his pace powerful;
it was obvious that his disability did not hamper him as he untethered the
spirited chestnut stallion and led the animal away.

Had he suffered some injury? she wondered, stepping
into the spacious hall. And what did he mean by saying that he'd join her at
dinner? Since when did the hired help sit at the table with their employers?
She had never eaten one meal in Lady Redmayne's elegant dining room, but had
always dined with the other domestic servants in the kitchen.

"If you'll follow me, Miss Camille, I'll show you
upstairs to your room," Ertha said, gesturing to Elias to unload the
trunks as she followed Susanna into the hall. With another wave of her hand,
the other servants scattered, returning to their assigned tasks. "Miss
Camille?" she repeated.

Susanna heard the housekeeper, but she felt as if her
feet were rooted to the floor as she gazed in rapt awe about her. From what she
could see while standing in the hall, the interior of the house was not in the
least stuffy or somber, as Lady Redmayne's country manor had been. Golden
sunlight pouring from open doorways reflected upon the fine furnishings and
polished parquet floor, the hospitable scene easing Susanna's fatigue.

She heard a soft chuckle and turned to find Ertha
smiling at her, the housekeeper's good nature clearly restored after the
earlier awkwardness between them.

"How about a quick tour of the house, Miss
Camille? I'd be pleased to show it to you. Since you were so little when you
were here last, it will be like seeing it for the first time."

Susanna nodded, and eagerly followed Ertha from one
sumptuously decorated room into the next: the dining room, dominated by a huge
mahogany table that could seat twenty; the library, filled from floor to
ceiling with richly embossed, leather-bound books; a game room with a large
billiard table and tables for playing cards; a splendid forty-foot long
ballroom with mirrored walls and crystal chandeliers; a small music room in
which she planned to spend little time at all, especially since she could not
play the harpsichord; and a drawing room graced by elegant yet comfortable
furnishings, its papered walls hung with family portraits.

She paused before the largest painting, a charming
family scene, and with a sharp pang realized that the pretty blonde toddler
seated atop her mother's lap was Camille while the two boys, perhaps six and
eight, were her brothers who had died so young. Behind them, proud and
straight, stood a bewigged and handsome James Cary, his hand placed lovingly
upon his wife's shoulder.

"Those were happy, happy times," Ertha murmured,
then she turned and gazed directly at Susanna. "Now that you're home, Miss
Camille, we'll know those times again. I'm just sure of it."

Susanna's throat constricted with emotion. Her lips
curved into the most confident smile she could muster, though she knew it also
held sadness. With a last glance at the painting, she moved toward the door,
feeling as if all Cary eyes were upon her, especially Camille's.

"I hope you don't mind me saying so," Ertha
continued as they walked together into the hall, "but what this house
needs is little children again, their laughter filling the rooms and the sound
of their feet running up and down the stairs. It's been too quiet here for too
long. I hope you find a husband soon, Miss Camille."

Susanna met the housekeeper's eyes. "That is my
plan, Ertha," she said honestly. "It's what my father wanted and what
I want. A husband and lots of children." Glancing at the sweeping black
walnut stairway that led to the second floor, she added softly, "We're
going to have a welcome ball here on Saturday, for the Grymes family and some
of the other neighbors. Would you see to the preparations?"

How strange, Susanna thought, as Ertha's wrinkled face
split into a surprised yet radiant smile. That was her first request as the
mistress of the house, and it hadn't been difficult to give at all. In fact, it
had seemed quite natural. Maybe from watching Lady Redmayne give orders to
servants so many times, she had actually learned something.

"Why, of course I will!" the housekeeper
enthused. "It's been too long since we had a house party at Briarwood, and
if Mr. Robert Grymes is coming, I imagine he'll tell everyone within shouting
distance about it. That man has a real fondness for revelry, and so does his
oldest son, Matthew. You can be sure that there will be plenty of young men
here on Saturday eager to make your acquaintance. You'll have that fine husband
of yours in no time at all!"

Ertha's pleased laughter ended abruptly, her eyes
growing wide. "Oh, my, I've so much to do. Believe me, I've a feeling this
ball will be the Tidewater's social event of the summer. I have to talk to Prue
at once. We've got to plan the menu, and—

"Why don't you go and speak to her right now,
then," Susanna interrupted kindly, sensing the woman's eagerness to be
about her work. "I can see my way upstairs. Just tell me which room is
mine."

"Are you sure, Miss Camille? It doesn't seem
right, me not showing you to your room, what with you just arriving and
all."

"I'll be fine. Really."

"Very well, if you say so. You'll find your room
at the very end of the hall, facing the rear of the house. It's the same one
that used to belong to your parents. I'm sure Elias has already taken your
trunks upstairs. I'll send Corliss to wake you in an hour or so, and she'll
help you dress for dinner."

With that, the housekeeper hurried away, talking
excitedly under her breath. Susanna, smiling, climbed the stairs, looking
forward to being alone for a while. Yet at the top of the stairway, her
curiosity was aroused again by the sight of four closed bedroom doors in
addition to hers down the carpeted hallway.

As long as she was taking a tour of the house, she
might as well see these rooms, too, she reasoned. If they were even half as
lovely as those downstairs . . .

She was not disappointed. The first guest bedroom was
spacious and well-appointed, with white walls, blue brocade draperies at the
tall windows, and a matching spread upon the double bed. She crossed the hall
to the opposite room and, turning the silver-plated knob, stepped inside.

"What in bloody blazes . . . ?" she breathed
to herself.

She stared in stunned confusion at a room that appeared
not only occupied, but also in a state of wild disarray. The huge four-poster
bed was unmade, the pillows scattered, and the rumpled sheets strewn with
clothes, while a pair of dusty jackboots lay nearby on the floor—

Jackboots! And that was a shirt and a pair of breeches
tossed upon the bed, not a gown and lace undergarments. Why, this must be a
man's room . . . unless she had stumbled upon the site of a carnal tryst and
the lover had fled without his clothing.

No, that was ridiculous, Susanna thought as she moved
still further into the room. Her gaze skipped from an upended tricorn hat and a
leather belt lying atop a richly upholstered chair to a massive wardrobe, its
doors half-open. Even from where she stood, she could see full-sleeved white
lawn shirts, dark riding clothes, and even a fine forest-green coat and gold
brocade waistcoat hanging inside.

This
was
a
man's room. But whose? Was there an overnight guest visiting Briarwood, someone
Ertha had failed to tell her about in the commotion of her arrival?

"I hope you can forgive the mess. I left in quite
a hurry this morning to meet the
Charming
Nancy
, and it appears the servants neglected to straighten my room in all
the excitement."

Susanna spun, her heart hammering in her throat. She
gaped at Adam, who stood leaning against the doorjamb. He was smiling that same
self-assured smile, his arms crossed casually over his chest.

"Y-your room?" she stammered in disbelief,
her thoughts racing. Who had ever heard of such a thing? A hired man living
under the master's roof? The mistress's roof?
Her
roof?

"Yes. My room," he stated with emphasis, his
smile fading into a look of irritation and his eyes growing hard. "It's
been mine since I became the plantation manager three years ago. A quaint
custom in the Tidewater, and obviously one you're unfamiliar with. If there's a
spare bedroom in a planter's house, it is often given to either the tutor or
the manager, both highly esteemed positions on a plantation. Since there are no
children here, and thus no tutor, I was given the honor."

"Oh . . ." Susanna barely managed to say,
shocked by such an arrangement. She could just hear Lady Redmayne's snort of
disapproval!

Her place had always been in the servants' wing—except
for that one night in London when she had slept in that lovely feather
bed—although Camille had often begged her aunt to allow Susanna to move into
the smaller bedroom next to her own. Lady Redmayne would hear none of it.
Although she knew they were best friends, the baroness had insisted that there
remain a firm distinction between mistress and waiting-maid.

"I also eat my meals at the planter's table and
drink his wine," Adam continued tightly. "Another fine custom. And if
you're a crop master, the rewards are even greater."

"Crop master?" she asked. She shifted
nervously as he walked toward her. So he would be dining with her, just as he
had said. A hired man!

"Yes, crop master," he repeated, his tone
growing angrier, his eyes demanding that she look at him. "A title
bestowed upon only a few men, usually planters. I acquired it by learning as
much as I could about tobacco. It's the kind of knowledge that impresses the Tidewater
gentry. Earns a self-made man their respect." He came even closer, his
gaze not wavering from her face. "That title has given me something else,
Miss Cary, something which you've always possessed. The gentry see me as one of
their own now. I can go to their house parties, ride in their horse races, and
even court their women—"

"Ex-excuse me, Mr. Thornton," Susanna cut him
off, giving him a wide berth as she hurried to the door. Her words emerged in a
distracted torrent. "I didn't mean to pry. I didn't know this was your
room. I thought I would just look at all the bedrooms since I haven't seen them
before . . . I mean for so long . . ." She tore her gaze from him and
didn't look back, acutely aware that he was watching her, and growing all the
more flushed because of it. She hastened down the hall to her room, and leaned
breathlessly against the door when she was inside.