Defiant Impostor (21 page)

Susanna drew in her breath sharply, astonished and
cautiously elated by his bold admission.

Now that she knew exactly what Dominick's intentions
were toward her, she would have to move with some restraint. She had to make an
important decision, after all, one which would affect not only her future but
Briarwood's as well. She wanted to become better acquainted with him and to see
his home, Raven's Point. She already sensed that he was the kind of man she had
vowed to wed—rich, prominent, and eligible—but she wanted to be sure he met
with all of Lady Redmayne's criteria. Camille had charged her to marry wisely,
and so she would.

Of course she would also have to consider Adam, Susanna
thought resentfully, spying him out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning
against the doorjamb, glaring not so much at her as at Dominick. Oh, if only he
wouldn't scowl so! Someone would surely guess why he was upset.

"Has my confession pleased or dismayed you?"
Dominick asked, catching her furtive glance in Adam's direction. "You seem
troubled, Camille."

"It is only that this is so sudden," she
answered hastily, gifting him with a smile that she hoped would divert him.
"Perhaps when we know each other better . . ."

"That is my desire, to know you better, " he
murmured, his cool fingers caressing her hand as they circled each other.
"If I may, I would like to call upon you in the coming days—"

"Well, actually I've been invited to a host of
social events which will take me away from Briarwood much of the time,"
Susanna said, doing her best to sway him from any thoughts of visiting the
plantation during the next few weeks. Adam would know at once that Dominick was
paying her court, and until she was sure she wanted to marry this man, she
didn't dare risk losing Adam as her plantation manager.

"Then perhaps you can tell me where I might find
you," Dominick suggested. "We could meet here and there and become
better acquainted." He glanced pointedly at the half dozen or so young men
who weren't yet dancing, a cow-eyed Matthew Grymes among them. "I fear
that tonight we'll have little chance to speak further, my dear. You have a
wealth of eager partners seeking your hand, and it is only fair that I
relinquish you to them, since it is your welcome ball. In the future, however,
I promise that you won't find me so charitable."

Susanna shivered at the forceful intent behind his
words, although he still spoke in low tones. Dominick Spencer was clearly a man
who was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Obliging him, she enumerated her
plans for the days ahead, at least as far as she knew them, adding softly,
"If I decide to attend any other functions, I could always send you a
message . . ."

"Splendid," he murmured with an almost smug
smile as the minuet began to draw to a close. "By the way, beautiful lady,
I must tell you that you dance exquisitely. You must have had an excellent
teacher in England. I would say your grace and skill surpass most of the ladies
present."

She nearly choked, gratified by his compliment yet
flushing uncomfortably as she recalled her lesson with Adam and its passionate
conclusion. "Thank you," she replied simply, not trusting herself to
say more.

"Remember," Dominick reminded her when the
music ceased, the guests' conversations and enthusiastic applause swelling
around them, "I claim the last dance, Camille."

Before she could respond, he bowed with the same
practiced flourish and left her, his back stiff and straight as he walked
toward the game room, his voice authoritative as he acknowledged greetings and
comments from other guests. Yet Susanna had little time to reflect upon how
well-respected he seemed to be, before Matthew Grymes practically ran across
the dance floor in his unabashed haste to beat the other gentlemen to her side.

"We're going to dance the Sir Roger de
Coverley," he said excitedly, his round face already mottled and sweaty
despite the fresh breeze wafting through the open windows. "Do you know
it, Miss Cary?"

"I think so," she replied, vaguely recalling
Adam telling her it was the name for a lively reel.

"Well, don't worry, I'll show you. It's great
fun!"

As Matthew took her hands in his clammy palms, she
forced a smile while wishing that Dominick had insisted upon being her partner
for the entire evening. She expected he would now have to amuse himself in that
smoky game room, playing cards and shooting billiards while most everybody else
danced the hours away. What a sad reward for his thoughtful gallantry.

The music began and Susanna was swept into the dance by
her enthusiastic yet clumsy partner. It turned out to be the same dance she and
Adam had enjoyed the night before, which had ended when she had collapsed
breathlessly into his arms. She had no intention of doing that with Matthew.
She was delighted when he told her that at intervals everyone exchanged
partners, although when she suddenly spied a giggling Celeste being whirled
along by Adam, she hoped she wouldn't end up paired with him.

To her surprise Adam actually seemed to be having a
good time now that she wasn't dancing with Dominick, or else he was putting up
a very good front. Occasionally she heard his low, husky laughter, which irked
her. She had told him to deceive Celeste, but he didn't have to charm her so
thoroughly—

What the devil's the matter with you? Susanna scolded
herself, wincing as she failed to avoid Matthew's stomping feet. What did she
care if Adam was paying attention to Celeste? No doubt he would end up marrying
the vivacious redhead when she herself chose someone else.

"We're about to . . . change partners, Miss
Cary," Matthew said, huffing, sweat trickling from beneath his powdered
tie-wig. "But I'll have you back . . . by the end of the dance."

It was on Susanna's tongue to utter a gracious reply,
but when he trounced again upon her toe she hissed in exasperation, "Watch
your bloody feet, Matthew!"

Gaping at her in astonishment, he spun her into the
next gentleman's arms. Susanna, regretting her unthinking remark and knowing
she must apologize later, was relieved to discover her new partner was Adam,
but only for the respite she knew he would offer her bruised toes.

"I've missed you, my love," he said, loud
enough for only her to hear as they followed the spirited line of couples
across the dance floor. His eyes glittered at her possessively, the tiny flecks
of gold in his gaze heightened by the blazing candlelight overhead, and she
felt a heady rush of warmth.

"And I, you," she lied, although she
suspected from her strange giddiness in holding his hands that she
had
missed him, if only a little.
Fleetingly she marveled at how warm his skin felt while Dominick's had been so
cool, then she added, "You and Celeste seem to be enjoying yourselves. I
heard you laughing."

"Jealous?"

Susanna attempted a flippant smile, realizing in that
moment how deeply his query had cut her and that she might very well be
jealous. "Not at all," she replied, keeping her voice light.
"And you?"

He sobered, his expression becoming hard, although his
eyes held a tormented and poignant vulnerability she had never seen before.
"Should I be?" he asked as he prepared to hand her over to her next
partner.

"Of course not, Adam," she lied again, feeling
guilty when relief flickered over his handsome features. Then she was whisked
from his arms and halfway across the floor before she caught another glimpse of
him, his gaze hungrily capturing hers through the swirl of laughing dancers.

For one heart-stopping instant she had the oddest
sensation that they were alone in the room, just the two of them, dancing
together despite that she held another man's hands and he, another woman's.
Unwittingly, again she found herself wishing that she wasn't living a lie with
its rigid obligations . . . wishing he didn't have his every hope set upon
marrying a rich heiress . . . oh, God, wishing . . . wishing . . .

"There! I told you I'd get you back!"
enthused Matthew, his breathless voice shattering her thoughts into shards of
hopeless fantasy. Seemingly undaunted by her earlier rudeness to him, he added
earnestly, "I'll try to be more careful, Miss Cary, I promise. I didn't
mean to step on your feet."

Susanna smiled, but there was no pleasure behind it,
even as the dance ended and Thomas Dandridge, despite Matthew's protests, swept
her into another minuet.

For her, the sparkling excitement of the evening was
gone. All she could think of was the tortured look in Adam's eyes which had
revealed not only that he was jealous, painfully so, but also that he might be
falling in love.

With Camille.

Not with Susanna Jane Guthrie.

And, heaven help her for being a fool, there was a
chance she might be falling in love with him, too.

***

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," Dominick
said, maintaining a congenial tone despite the irritation that gnawed like a
thousand maggots at his gut. As he rose he attempted not to dwell on the large
sum of money he had lost so far this evening. "I'd like to see how the
ball is progressing. But rest assured, my friends, I will be back. "

As he swallowed the last of his ruby port and moved to
the door, the grandfather clock chimed a quarter past eleven.

It was early yet. He still had plenty of time to recoup
his losses before the last dance of the evening, and no doubt the card playing
would continue even after the rest of the house grew quiet. He had seen many a
sunrise from gaming tables, as had other gentlemen of his acquaintance for whom
gambling was as essential as breathing.

Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he and his half dozen
or so compatriots heralded the dawn with a rousing and bloody cockfight. He
knew he wasn't the only planter who had brought along his prize bird for just
such a possibility. He usually fared better wagering on cockfights and horse
races anyway, although not so well that he didn't suffer some financial loss.
He had been on one long losing streak for the past eight years, the good days
when he chanced to break even becoming fewer and farther between.

As an acute pain twisted his stomach again, Dominick
cursed under his breath. Closing the game room door behind him, he surveyed the
crowded ballroom.

Where was that little chit? he wondered with annoyance,
his narrowed gaze skimming over the many couples engaged in a lively saraband.
Where was Miss Camille Cary, the mistress of Briarwood and the answer to his
prayers?

She was a pretty piece, though she could have been as
ugly as a field toad for all he cared. All he wanted was her vast fortune,
which would save him from bankruptcy—and he would have it, too. She had been
like butter in his hands earlier tonight, as acquiescent as a lamb going to the
slaughter. He had seen in her eyes how impressed she was with him. For the way
she had stared after he introduced himself, he might as well have been King
George II of England!

If there was one thing he knew how to do well, it was
to keep up the appearance of wealth no matter how bad things were getting at
Raven's Point. Even his immediate neighbors and gambling associates didn't know
how deeply into debt he had fallen, a further testament to his ability to
deceive the world. Fooling a naive slip of a girl would pose him no difficulty.
He had every expectation that after a few more pleasant meetings, a good
sprinkling of compliments, and another costly gift or two—all of which would
revert back to his possession once they were married—she would play right into
his hands.

It seemed that the hardest part had been getting her
father out of the way so he had the freedom to court her, and even that he had
accomplished easily enough. Making it appear that James Cary had accidentally
shot himself with his own loaded hunting musket while climbing over a low
fieldstone wall had truly been an inspired touch—

"Enjoying the ball, Dominick?" Robert Grymes
blustered jovially as he ambled up, his bulbous nose and fat cheeks red from
drinking.

"Well enough," Dominick replied, paying the
drunken planter little heed as his gaze again swept the ballroom. "What of
our beautiful hostess? I don't see her."

"Miss Cary retired to her chamber over a half hour
ago," Robert informed him, shrugging. "My son Matthew was dancing
with her when she suddenly complained of a headache and bade him good night.
She must still be recovering from her journey after all."

"I suppose," Dominick murmured, thinking it
strange.

Camille had seemed radiant and happy enough while they
were dancing, except for that brief moment when he had caught her glancing at
Adam Thornton. Now there was one insolent bastard he should have whipped to death
when he had the chance. He wouldn't be surprised if her sudden unease had been
due to his unwelcome appearance in her ballroom.

It must have been a rude shock for her to discover the
license her father had granted that base, illiterate son of a miner who had
somehow managed over the years to distinguish himself as a crop master. It made
Dominick sick to think that his former indentured servant, the surliest, most
mutinous he'd ever come across, was living in this house and managing one of
the richest plantations in the Tidewater. He certainly wouldn't tolerate Adam's
loathsome presence once he was the master of Briarwood. He would have him
horsewhipped right off his property.

"She did look a bit pale to me, I must
admit," Robert added with a loud hiccough, then he grimaced. "Nine
weeks at sea aboard a disease-ridden vessel . . ."

Banishing Adam from his mind, Dominick reasoned that it
did make sense that Camille might still be fatigued from such a long and
arduous voyage. He would have to be extra solicitous of her at the Johnson
girl's birthday party on Tuesday, which would be the next time he saw her. He
intended to leave Briarwood shortly after daybreak tomorrow. He always spent
Sunday afternoons in bed with his mistress, Cleo, the only woman he had ever
come close to loving.