Defiant Impostor (10 page)

Susanna hadn't expected such a complete list of the
man's attributes. "Corliss, how do you know all this?"

The young woman shrugged, her dark eyes full of humor.
"We talk in the kitchen, Ertha, Prue, and the rest of us housemaids. We
know you'll be looking for a husband soon, and he's said to be looking for a
wife. We just put two and two together, though don't take me wrong, Miss
Camille, I'm not saying he's the right one for you. You might very well want a
younger man, seeing as Mr. Spencer is in his forties—"

Corliss fell abruptly silent when someone knocked
softly on the door.

"Miss Camille, it's Ertha. I just wanted to let
you know that dinner will be served in a few minutes."

"Oh, no, I've kept you too long with all my
chatter." Corliss glanced at the china clock on the mantel, which read
exactly three o'clock. "Ertha will scold me for sure."

"No, she won't," Susanna said with a
reassuring smile as she rose from the dressing table. "I'll just explain
that we were becoming acquainted."

She took a last look at herself in the mirror and was
amazed at her transformation. Now that she had someone to help her dress and
arrange her hair, she looked like a real lady. She could hardly wait until
Saturday to see the reactions of the gentlemen, young and old, who might come
to call.

***

"Did you enjoy the meal, Miss Camille?" Prue
asked, clasping her plump hands together as she stood at one end of the lengthy
dining table. Her expression was doubtful as she surveyed Susanna's plate,
which remained nearly full.

"The food was wonderful, Prue. Really,"
Susanna said, feeling bad that she hadn't eaten more.

In truth, the little of the braised lamb, herbed
vegetables, and buttered new potatoes she had tasted had been excellent, but
after subsisting on thin, watery soup and dry bread for the past several weeks,
she had only half her normal appetite. Between that and the tightness of her
stays, she had managed only a few bites before she was full. No wonder Camille
had always eaten like a sparrow. And Susanna had thought it was simply due to
proper table manners!

"I'm sure I'll be able to eat more in a few days,
once I'm used to good cooking again," she explained, glad when Prue's face
brightened. "The food aboard ship . . ." She grimaced, which seemed
to convince the cook that her expertise was not at fault.

"I can well imagine it was terrible. I don't know
why I didn't think of it," Prue said sympathetically, clucking her tongue
as she removed Susanna's plate. "I'll just save the wild strawberry tart
for a light supper, then, and the rest of the food for Mr. Thornton. I'm sure
he'll be hungry when he returns later in the day."

"That will be fine, Prue. Thank you."

Susanna glanced at the empty chair to her right where a
place setting had been laid for Adam. Ertha had already explained why he would
be absent for dinner. It seemed the life of a plantation manager was a
demanding one.

Actually, when she had heard that he had ridden out to
deal with a problem in some distant tobacco fields, she had been disappointed.
She had wanted to apologize to him for her behavior earlier, and, more
selfishly, to see his reaction to her appearance. He wasn't a gentleman, but he
was a man, after all. If he liked the way she looked, she could imagine what
her prospective suitors would think on Saturday.

Determined to become better acquainted with her new
surroundings, Susanna went into the library, where she spent several pleasant
hours browsing through the vast collection of books. She was so glad that she had
learned to read, for she enjoyed it immensely.

A favorite pastime of hers and Camille's had been to
curl up in the window seats and read to each other—poetry, Shakespeare, and
occasionally a romantic novel if Susanna could buy one from a traveling bookseller.
Lady Redmayne had caught her with such a book once and before tossing it into
the fire had proclaimed it complete drivel and a poor excuse for literature.
But Susanna and Camille had known better.

They had laughed and sighed and even shed tears over
the trials and tribulations of the heroes and their beautiful ladies, and
rejoiced when the lovers were happily united in the end. Yet, when the book was
closed, both of them knew in their hearts that such romantic love had little to
do with their own lives, where pragmatism and a sense of duty ruled. It was
still pleasant, however, to escape once in a while into a world where love and
its fulfillment need be the only considerations.

After a while, Susanna began to feel restless and
decided a walk outside in the fresh air would do her good. It was almost six
o'clock, but there was still plenty of sunlight left to this long summer day.

As she exited the French doors at the rear of the
house, she thought how wonderful it was not to feel a ship swaying and pitching
beneath her feet. She strolled quietly along the bricked paths and resplendent
flower beds all the way down to the riverbank, where she sat upon a marble
bench beneath a gigantic spreading oak tree and gazed out across the water.

It was so peaceful here in the shade. Instead of
thundering waves, creaking wood, and the coarse cries of sailors going about
their work, she heard sweet, trilling birdsong, the gentle lap of water against
the grassy shoreline, and the distant muted sounds of plantation life. The air
was warm, but not too much so, and fragrant with the scents of roses and
gardenias carried upon a gentle breeze.

Susanna could have sat there for hours, not thinking
about anything in particular, just enjoying the tranquility of her surroundings
as the daylight softened and shadows lengthened, the sun slowly setting behind
the trees. She was so engrossed in her private reflection that she did not hear
the fall of footsteps behind her, nor did she sense that she was no longer
alone.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you
are?"

She froze, Adam's deep, husky voice eliciting a strange
excitement within her that surprised her almost as much as his unexpected
presence.

"Do you always creep up behind people like a
thief, Mr. Thornton?" she replied with feigned lightness, ignoring his
presumptuous question.

"Ah, I startled you. Forgive me. I was so struck
by the enchanting picture you made that I was loath to disturb you."

He came around the bench to stand in front of her, and
in spite of herself she could not help thinking how attractive he was. His
features were rugged like the man himself, dark brows over deep-set eyes, a
slightly hawklike yet pleasing nose, a mouth that appeared uncompromising yet
undeniably sensuous over a strong cleft chin, and the hard planes of his face
faintly shadowed with dark stubble. How much—deceivingly so!—he looked like a
true Virginia gentleman.

He had clearly dressed with care in a finely cut blue
coat, silver brocade waistcoat, and matching breeches that fit his taut, muscular
body to perfection. Yet his tanned face held a fine sheen of perspiration and
his dark hair, although tied in a queue, appeared unruly and windblown, as if
he had arrived only moments ago from his ride and changed in a hurry. His
intense gaze, which held the slightest hint of wry amusement—at her obvious
appraisal of him? she wondered—caught and held hers.

"You have still to answer my question," he
observed huskily, "although I would imagine many young gentlemen have
praised your beauty."

"Actually, no, none have been so . . . bold,"
she stressed, hoping he would see that he was far overstepping his bounds.

"Then they were fools. Allow me to be the first to
tell you, Miss Cary, you are very lovely. Bewitchingly so."

Susanna blushed hotly, her cheeks burning, not as
Camille would certainly have done but because she herself was truly, and
unbelievably, flattered by his brash compliment. She should have known that he
wouldn't be deterred by her pointed remark. She had hoped for some reaction
from him about her appearance, a smile, a look of approval, but she hadn't
expected this!

When his eyes fell to her breasts, she followed them,
and was shocked to discover her skin was flushed pink clear down to her
low-cut, rounded bodice. Silently seething, furious with herself for having
given her emotions away so easily, and still feeling his impertinent gaze like
a hot wind upon her flesh, she refused to lift her head to look at him.

"May I sit down?" came his low-spoken query,
confident, assured.

Susanna wanted to tell him he could bloody well sit in
the river for all she cared, but she bit back the response. How dare he
compliment her so audaciously and then let his eyes roam over her body as if
she was not the new mistress of Briarwood, but . . . but some kind of tart! She
nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Thank you."

As he sat, not at the other end of the bench as would
have been proper but right next to her, she stiffened, her thoughts running
away with themselves.

Who did this hired man think he was? Was it possible
that he believed he had some special privileges where she was concerned because
he had known Camille's father? Some special right to such unseemly and bold
familiarity? Here she had been ready to offer him an apology for her earlier
behavior, yet surely his own behavior was most inappropriate and, come to think
of it, had been since the moment they met!

"I'm sorry that I missed dinner. I can imagine
that Prue outdid herself for your first meal at Briarwood."

"Yes, she did," Susanna said, flustered at
his nearness. She raised her eyes just a bit to stare unseeing at the grassy
riverbank. He was not sitting so close to her that their legs were touching, as
had happened in the carriage, but she could feel his presence almost as if they
were.

"I also want to apologize for the way I acted
earlier this afternoon. I'm sure you were surprised to find that your father
had given me a room in his home, but you'll soon discover that things are done
somewhat differently here than they are in England. I had no right to become
angry, though. I can only explain it by saying that you had seemed so shocked
that I took it to mean you might be troubled by such an arrangement. I truly
hope that that was not the case. But then, it won't really matter before long."

Now what did he mean by that? Susanna wondered.

When she made no reply but stubbornly continued to look
at the ground, a charged silence fell between them which was broken only by the
sounds that a short while ago had so charmed her. Everything seemed to be irritating
her now, and she was about to excuse herself and return to the house when he
took her hand, caressing her fingers with his thumb. Susanna almost choked.

"I was going to wait a few days to tell you what I
have to say, but I find that my impatience will not allow it. First, I want you
to look at me, Camille."

Susanna started when she felt his other hand gently cup
her chin, his fingers callused yet surprisingly warm, and lift her face to him.
She was so shocked that he would call her again by her first name, so astounded
that he would dare to touch her in this way, almost tenderly, that she could
only stare incredulously into his eyes.

"A few months before your father died, I requested
his permission to court you, and he granted it with his full blessing. Camille,
it is my intention for us to marry." His expression serious, he paused to
stroke her cheek, then his finger lightly traced her lips. "I know this is
very sudden. You don't have to say anything right away, just hear me out."

Doing her best to ignore the strange, dizzying
sensations elicited by his feather-light touch, Susanna was so flabbergasted
she couldn't have said anything. Court her? Marry her? Camille's father had
given Adam his blessing? Surely the man was mad!

"Your father told me a lot about you. You're very
shy, just as he said—"

When Susanna drew in her breath and looked away,
relieved to hear how well her masquerade had convinced him, Adam misread her
action entirely.

"I didn't mean that as a criticism, my love. I
find your timid nature . . . most beguiling."

My love?
Susanna thought, glancing back at him in total astonishment. How quickly she
had gone from Miss Cary to Camille to
my
love!

"Your father also told me that you prefer a quiet
life, much to the despair of Baroness Redmayne, your Aunt Melicent. He said she
was forever encouraging you to attend balls and go on outings while all you
ever wanted to do was stay at home. Is this true?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice sounding oddly
hoarse.

Adam took both of her hands in his large ones, his
vivid brown eyes burning into hers. His touch held restrained tension, which
only added to her disquiet.

"I promise you this, Camille. I'll never force you
to do anything you don't want to do. Allow me to give you the kind of life you
desire, peaceful and protected, just as your father wanted for you. I'm not a
rich man, and I don't own any land, but I do have one thing. Your father's
approval. He knew that I would do well by you and that under my care Briarwood
would continue to prosper. You know how much this plantation meant to him.
We'll make it prosper together, my love, you and I, just as your father would
have wanted."

Susanna was dumbfounded, Adam's low, impassioned words
echoing in her mind.

Was it really true, then, what Corliss had told her
about some planters being willing to allow Adam to court their daughters
because he was a crop master? she thought dazedly as he studied her face. Had
James Cary intended for Camille to be courted by and then married to this man?
Surely he would have mentioned Adam's name in his last letter if that had been
the case. He had said that he had someone in mind for Camille, that they would
talk about it when she arrived in Virginia . . . but Adam Thornton, his
plantation manager?