Defiant Impostor (25 page)

She couldn't say how long it was before her heavy
eyelids fluttered open. Time had lost all meaning for her in the cloud of
contentment that blanketed her. All she knew was that she felt warm and safe
and protected, and disinclined to leave the strong, solid embrace of the man
who held her so tightly.

"How I love you, Camille," came a husky
murmur close to her ear. "Love you."

Those were the last words she heard as exhaustion
overcame her, her sense of satiation like a potent drug. She slept, not sure if
he had spoken the words or if she had merely imagined them.

***

"Lordy, Miss Camille. I always figured Mr.
Thornton was a right powerful man, but just look at this door. I'll bet the
carpenters will have to make a new one from the way this whole side is busted
up."

"I know, Corliss. I've seen it," Susanna
said, trying not to think about what had happened last night. She had awakened
at sunrise to find herself thankfully alone in her bed. Now she hastily pulled
on her traveling gloves. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I am, but I don't see what the hurry is.
It's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet."

Susanna tried to keep her voice calm, although she was
wracked by nervousness. She had learned from Ertha, who was the earliest riser
among the servants, that Adam had left for the fields well before dawn. She
didn't expect him back until that evening, but there was always the chance that
he might return to the house for some reason and discover that she was leaving.
He would insist on accompanying her, and she couldn't have that. This
clandestine journey was part of the urgent plan she had devised after her
unsettling exchanges with him yesterday.

"Corliss, I already told you that I want to
complete our trip before nightfall. It's a good distance to Raven's
Point—"

"Raven's Point, Miss Camille?" Corliss
blurted, a smile flashing. "Is that where we're going?"

"Yes," Susanna admitted, not sure she could
trust her talkative waiting-maid with such potentially troublesome information.
Yet she didn't have much choice. Propriety demanded a chaperone. "We have
to start early if I'm going to have enough time for a good visit with Mr.
Spencer and then return before it begins to grow dark. We don't want to be out
on the roads at night, do we?"

"No, I guess you're right about that,"
Corliss agreed, the damaged door forgotten as she swept an approving glance
over Susanna's apricot-colored gown. "No wonder you dressed so pretty
today. Does Mr. Spencer know you're coming to call?"

"Of course he does. We arranged everything at the
Grymes's barbeque on Saturday," she lied, looking in the mirror as she
tied the ribbons to her matching silk hat under her chin. She thought
fleetingly that she appeared a bit pale this morning, but no wonder! She still
couldn't believe she had allowed Adam to . . . to . . .

Chasing away the vivid memories that kept leaping into
her mind, she whirled to face her maid, adding firmly, "But this is a
secret, Corliss. Our secret, and Elias's, who'll be driving the coach. I don't
want you to say anything about this journey to anyone. Not to Ertha or Prue or
any of the other maids. No one."

"A secret?" the young woman asked, clearly
confused.

"Yes. I can't have my other suitors knowing I'm
traipsing about the Tidewater paying solitary calls on a rival. From the way
all of you gossip around here, any chance visitor might overhear you, and
that's how rumors get started. I don't want to crush anyone's hopes, at least
not yet."

Understanding crept into Corliss's lively dark eyes.
"I 'spect Mr. Grymes is going to find himself mighty disappointed before
too long, isn't he, Miss Camille? A host of other young" —she put special
stress on the word— "gentlemen, too."

Susanna forced a conspiratorial smile. "Perhaps.
After turning around for a last glimpse at herself in the mirror, she picked up
her fan and gracefully opened it, giving it an expert flutter. She had been
practicing over the past few weeks. Feeling a much-needed boost of confidence,
she snapped the fan shut and walked to the door, her wide skirt rustling.

"Now, if anyone asks, Corliss, just say we're
going into Yorktown to do some more shopping."

"I hear you, Miss Camille." Glancing at the
damaged door as she passed it, the maid shook her head. "You better start
drinking some of Prue's special chamomile and peppermint tea before bedtime if
you want to stop those nightmares from coming," she suggested, following
Susanna into the hallway. "It'll help you sleep nice and peaceful. That
way Mr. Thornton won't have to wear out any more doors like he did to that
one."

Susanna made no comment, but she did make a mental note
to try some of that tea tonight. She certainly didn't want a repeat of last
eve—

No, she wasn't going to think about it! It was bad
enough that she could almost feel the warm weight of Adam's hands upon her
body, his fingers teasing her intimately. And those words she had dreamed he
had said . . .
I love you, Camille
.
That was the last thing she wanted to hear him say to her! How could she have
ever dreamt such nonsense?

Heaving a sigh, Susanna stopped outside his room.
"I forgot something, Corliss. Why don't you go on ahead and see that Elias
is ready with the coach."

"Yes, ma'am."

Waiting until the maid had disappeared down the stairs,
she drew from her bodice a note she had hastily written to Adam in case he came
back to the house and she still hadn't returned from Raven's Point. He had
become so possessive of her, she imagined he would be upset when he learned she
had left without his knowledge. She hoped the short missive explaining that she
had enjoyed shopping so much that she had gone into town to do some more would
appease him, especially since she had signed it
Yours always, Camille
.

This was the first time she had signed anything with that
name. She had been intending to write Lady Redmayne a letter to inform her that
all was well, as Camille would have done weeks ago. But she still didn't trust
her imitation of Camille's signature. She needed more time to practice, using
as a guide a letter Camille had written to her father.

During a visit to Briarwood a few days after Susanna's
arrival, William Booth, the family attorney, had given her a key to James
Cary's strongbox in which his personal papers were kept. She had immediately
destroyed Camille's letters, save for one, and as soon as she felt confident
enough writing the signature, she would have to dispose of it, too, however
reluctantly.

Sighing, Susanna opened the note and briefly reread it,
lingering on the neatly inscribed closing.

Yours always,
Camille.

Frustrated anew by the same niggling regret that had
plagued her since the night she and Adam had first kissed, she defiantly
refolded the paper and entered his room. She had no fears that he would
discover the ruse. If he had ever seen Camille's letters, he'd hardly remember
a signature, and even if he did, it would be passable enough to fool him.

"Now, where shall I put this?" she said to
herself, thinking how much neater his chamber was now than the first time she
had ventured into it. The room's decidedly masculine appearance hadn't changed,
however, with its dark, heavy furnishings and his personal belongings placed
here and there.

Idly touching the pages of a book that had been left
open upon the bedside table, Homer's
Iliad
,
Susanna suddenly had the strangest sensation that she could feel Adam's
presence all around her—compelling, warm, and powerful, like the
flesh-and-blood man himself. Becoming flustered, she quickly propped the note
against a silver candlestick and hastened from the room. She could not help
wondering as she hurried down the stairs if Adam Thornton would haunt her
memory long after he had left Briarwood.

Chapter 14

From Susanna's window, as the carriage rumbled toward
the distant brick house along a wide, oak-lined avenue, Raven's Point looked
every bit as magnificent as Dominick had described to her. Four huge columns
fronted the formal entrance, giving his home an elegant classical appearance,
and its size certainly seemed to rival that of Briarwood.

The plantation also appeared to be bustling with
activity. She could see slaves—men, women, and even children—toiling in the
tobacco fields, which she had been told stretched for hundreds of acres from
both sides of the road, and riding on horseback among them were overseers who
occasionally cracked their whips high in the air. As the coach turned onto the
circular driveway a few moments later, she noted more slaves busily going about
their work among the many outbuildings, set a much farther distance away from
the house than the arrangement at Briarwood.

"Did you see that, Miss Camille?" Corliss
asked, her expression showing shock and dismay as she turned from craning her
neck out the opposite window. "They've got little children, no more than
six years old, working out in them tobo fields. Babies! And in this hot
sun!"

"Yes, I did," Susanna replied, surprised that
Dominick would allow such a thing. At Briarwood, children younger than thirteen
were given tasks suitable for their age or left under the watchful eye of
motherly attendants to frolic and play near their cabins.

"Those overseers were using whips, too," the
maid added, her tone subdued. "I wonder if they did that when Mr. Thornton
worked here. He never said nothing about it. I 'spect he wouldn't be too happy
to see how things have changed, if that's the case. He doesn't tolerate no
whips at Briarwood."

Recalling Adam's tight-lipped exchange with Josiah
Skinner about the overseer who had dared to raise a whip against some Cary
slaves and been summarily dismissed for it, Susanna could just imagine his
response. As the carriage came to a halt before the front door and a footman in
modest livery rushed out to assist her, she resolved to discuss these matters
with Dominick. She didn't like slavery in the first place, and there was no
reason to make these people's burden any more difficult than it already was.

"Corliss, would you mind waiting in the carriage
for just a few moments? I'd like to greet Mr. Spencer alone."

Susanna was surprised when Corliss failed to tease her
about her interest in the widowed planter. Instead, the maid appeared willing
to remain inside the coach during the visit, no matter that it was stuffy and
warm. She was clearly upset about what she had just seen out in the fields.

Thinking that things weren't getting off to the best
start, Susanna disembarked and climbed the broad front steps to the door. She
couldn't ask the footman within earshot of Corliss if Dominick was at home
since this meeting was supposed to have been prearranged, but when she was
ushered inside the sparsely furnished hall, she turned to him and said,
"My name is Miss Camille Cary. I've come to pay a call on Mr.
Spencer—"

"My dear Camille, this is indeed a pleasant
surprise."

Susanna's pulse raced as Dominick, dressed more plainly
than she had ever seen him, in a white full-sleeved shirt, unadorned waistcoat,
and dark breeches, strode from a room which she could see was the library.
Realizing that he must have observed her arrival from the tall windows which
looked out onto the front lawn, she wondered why he hadn't come out at once to
greet her. As he curtly waved away the footman, she murmured,
"Dominick."

"Forgive me for not escorting you myself into my
home," he explained as if reading her thoughts, "but I took a moment
to ask my housekeeper to prepare us some refreshment. I am delighted to see
you, my dear, but I must admit that I'm startled by your unexpected visit. Have
you come alone?"

"No, Corliss is with me."

"Ah, yes, your talkative little maid. Where is
she?"

"Still in the carriage. I . . . I didn't know if
you were home so I asked her to wait until . . ." Susanna sighed, deciding
she might as well tell him the truth, or at least some of it. She had no
intention of revealing that Adam had played any part in her journey.
"Actually, she thinks we arranged at the Grymes's barbeque to meet here
today. I told her and the coachman that my coming to Raven's Point was a
secret. I didn't think my other suitors should know—"

"I understand," Dominick broke in smoothly.
"Propriety."

"Yes," she agreed with a small smile,
thankful that she didn't have to explain further.

"Don't trouble yourself, my dear. I'll explain the
situation to my housekeeper when she returns from the kitchen and then have her
fetch your maid from the carriage. Corliss can wait in the hall while we talk
in the drawing room." He took her arm. "Now, enough of that. As you
can well imagine, I am most anxious to discover the reason behind your sudden
visit. I hadn't expected to see you until the horse races tomorrow at the
Tates'."

He led her into an adjoining room which was comfortably
furnished, although not in the luxury Susanna might have expected. She was
beginning to suspect that Dominick must have simple tastes other than his
penchant for wearing very fine clothes whenever he visited his fellow planters.
His house might be very grand on the outside, but from what she had seen so
far, the interior was almost spartan. Or perhaps it was because he had been a
widower for fifteen years, with no wife to decorate the rooms properly and no
time to attend to such domestic matters himself.

As she sat in a chair with worn brocade upholstery,
Susanna decided that whatever the reason, once they were married she would
convince him to furnish this house more in the fashion to which his wealth
demanded. She imagined they would divide their time between Briarwood and here,
and no doubt they would be entertaining a lot, so both homes would have to be
equally splendid. She certainly didn't expect that they might sell one of them,
especially when there would one day be children to consider who would need
homes of their own—