Defiant Impostor (18 page)

Was she sending him a private message? he wondered.
That despite the many young men surrounding her, she was thinking of him? He
would like to believe that was the case. He wished there was some way he could
hurry Celeste, but she seemed determined to smell every flower along the path.

"Have you met Miss Cary?" he asked, hoping
there was a remote chance she hadn't. That would certainly make a good excuse
for hastening her toward the river.

"Yes, when we arrived," Celeste replied,
smiling as she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Lovely girl. A bit
reserved, just like Papa told us she might be, but I'm sure that will change
once she becomes better acquainted with everyone." She turned back to the
roses, inhaling deeply. "In fact, I think Camille and I might become good
friends. We had a nice chat in the drawing room."

"Really?" Adam queried, his casual tone
belying his vexation that her assessment of Camille's character matched her
father's.

Did they seriously believe a few outings would
permanently alter Camille's personality? So the woman was shy! Why did everyone
feel the need to change her? He liked her exactly the way she was—well, he had
to admit her coquettish behavior last night had captivated him. But that was
different. Of course she would feel free to behave like that around him. She
trusted him, and they were going to be married, for God's sake.

"Yes, a lovely chat," Celeste said, twirling
the yellow rose she had just plucked as they proceeded down the path. "I
told her about all the exciting events coming up—Amy Johnson's birthday picnic,
dinner parties here and there, the horse races at the Tate plantation near
Williamsburg, the Byrds' annual summer ball at Westover near the end of the
month. Oh, so many more, and I insisted she must attend them all. She balked a
little, but when I said she could accompany me and my brothers, she agreed.
Such a silly goose! I think she imagined at first that she might have to go
alone, which I suppose would be a daunting prospect for any newcomer."

If Adam had ever come close to strangling anyone, it
was in that moment.

First Robert Grymes had coerced Camille into having
this ball, and now his social butterfly of a daughter was demanding that she
traipse all over the Tidewater with her. He didn't believe for an instant that
Camille had agreed to such a proposition. Knowing her as he did, he'd wager his
last dollar that she had simply said she might go along even though she hadn't
really meant it. That would have been the courteous thing to do, and from what
he had seen, Camille was unfailingly polite.

"Matthew was elated when he heard the news, of
course," Celeste continued, oblivious to Adam's growing anger. "He's
smitten with her and actually begged her to call him by his first name, though
he wouldn't dare presume to address her as anything but Miss Cary, at least for
now. He's very concerned with propriety, especially when it comes to courting a
woman—"

"Courting?" Adam said abruptly.

"Why, yes," she answered, pausing to study
him. "It's been common knowledge for months that Camille came home to
Virginia to find herself a husband. The only question is when. Don't tell me
you didn't know this, Adam."

He was so tempted to tell her that he was already
courting Camille, with the full expectation that they would marry, that he
could barely choke down the words. Silently cursing his agreement to keep their
courtship secret, he said tightly, "James Cary informed me last autumn
that he was sending for his daughter, and why."

"Well then, why do you seem so surprised?"
Celeste asked, giggling as she gestured to the animated group by the riverbank,
which was made up of twice as many young men as women. "Most of those
gentlemen are interested in courting Camille, and the ones already spoken for
probably wish they hadn't been cornered before she arrived."

Adam's gaze was focused not on the crowd but upon a
wide-brimmed sky-blue hat and the beautiful face beneath it. It seemed as if
she was looking at him across the garden, though he couldn't be sure. Yet the
thought that she might be made him ache to be near her.

"Matthew is going to have an uphill on his hands
with so much competition. That's why I decided to take it upon myself to help
him out. Perhaps her spending time with us will give him the edge he needs to
win her. She's the prize catch of the Tidewater, you know." Celeste turned
back to Adam, the rose falling still in her fingers. Her eyes were as
inquisitive as her expression was guarded. "I don't suppose you've
considered courting her yourself, have you, Adam? I know it's presumptuous for
me to ask, but there are those who would find such news . . .
distressing."

"Hasn't crossed my mind," he lied smoothly, a
fierce protectiveness rising in him as he watched the rose begin to twirl
again. He had not missed the dark innuendo in her voice, and had taken it as an
immediate warning.

He sensed in Celeste a young woman who didn't like to
be crossed, one who could prove malicious if it so pleased her. With Celeste's
sort around, Camille had every right to be concerned about her reputation. He
would have to curb his reckless impatience and wait for the day when she agreed
they could announce their betrothal. He would do anything to spare her the
distress this pretty viper might cause her.

"I'm so glad to hear that," Celeste
practically purred, a well-practiced smile upon her heart-shaped face.
"Then I won't hesitate to invite you along on our outings. Perhaps as
Matthew and Camille become better acquainted, we can, too."

"I have no doubt we will," Adam replied,
imagining the tantrum this little tart would throw when she discovered that
Camille had no intention of accompanying either her or her fat brother to
social events around the Tidewater. And he certainly didn't want to have
anything to do with Celeste. Manipulative, calculating women disgusted him.

"Shall we join them and see how Matthew is coming
along?" Celeste suggested, shading her eyes from the late-afternoon sun as
she gazed toward the river. "I see he has lost his seat on the bench,
and—oh, dear, he appears to be sulking. Perhaps he needs my assistance."

"I'm sure your brother can manage quite well on
his own," Adam said, resisting the impulse to look again in Camille's
direction. "Let's walk over this way."

Celeste's expression was one of complete acquiescence, though
her eyes held triumph. "Why, of course, Adam. Anything you say."

Taking her arm, he guided her purposely along a path
that led away from the riverbank. After not speaking to Camille since last
night, he didn't trust himself to be so near her and not reveal his true
feelings. Cunning women like Celeste had a gift for sniffing out such things,
and right now, he didn't need that added irritation. It was enough that this
day had already been full of them.

***

The spirited conversation around Susanna seemed to fade
away as she watched Adam and Celeste Grymes turn their backs on the river and
stroll arm in arm in the opposite direction.

Bastard! she seethed. He hadn't said a word to her all
day—not that she wanted him to—and now he was squiring one of the nicest girls
she had met so far. Did he think her so naive that she wouldn't know exactly
what he was doing? He was nothing but a rogue and a rake! It was obvious that
womanizing came to him as easily as breathing. Since he was so certain he had
her practically wedded and bedded, why not pursue another young innocent to
pass the time?

Casting occasional glances in their direction, she had
seen how deep in discussion they had been for the past ten minutes. Talking
about what? Probably he had grilled Celeste on her likes and dislikes, as he
had done to her last night. And what of that yellow rose he must have given
that poor, unsuspecting girl? How dare he pluck flowers from her garden—

"Miss Cary?"

Susanna swung her gaze to the lanky gentleman seated on
the bench beside her. She imagined her cheeks must be very red. Her face
actually burned from the vehemence of her thoughts.

"Yes, Mr. Dandridge?"

"You look flushed, Miss Cary, and it's such a warm
day. Are you sure I can't fetch you more lemon punch?"

She licked her lips, deciding she could use some cool
refreshment, if only to soothe her temper. "That would be very nice, Mr.
Dandridge. Thank you."

Beaming from ear to ear, the attractive, long-legged
young man almost tripped over several gentlemen lounging on the grass in his
haste to answer her needs. His place was quickly taken up by Matthew Grymes,
who had been hovering behind the bench, clearly waiting for such a moment.

"I could have gotten the punch for you, Miss
Cary," he said, his heavily lidded eyes and disappointed expression
reminding Susanna of a doleful spaniel.

"Perhaps next time," she murmured, throwing
another glance toward the house, only to discover with keen irritation that
Adam and Celeste were no longer in sight.

She was grateful when Matthew, having brightened at her
response, launched into another long-winded description of his prowess during a
recent fox hunt, his favorite sport, which enabled her to listen with half an
ear and once again retreat into her thoughts. As the other gentlemen eagerly
joined in with their own experiences, each seeking to outdo the other with
their prideful boasting, she could not help but wonder if all the gentry ever
talked about was themselves and their amusements. It seemed so. How unlike
Adam, who didn't want to talk about himself at all.

Of course he
wasn't
gentry, Susanna reminded herself, her anger pricked anew. He was nothing but a
hired man, a born liar, and an opportunistic blackguard.

She knew she wasn't jealous about him walking through
the garden with Celeste, but simply disgusted that he might have been the man
to marry Camille if things hadn't turned out as they had. Then her gentle,
trusting friend would have had to suffer through life with a man who wanted her
only for her wealth, and who, when he could finally afford it, was certain to
keep a dozen beautiful mistresses to satisfy his base and lustful nature.

Dear God, she hoped Celeste wouldn't fall for his
pretty words. She knew from unwanted experience how good he was at exploiting a
woman's sensibilities. Perhaps it was Adam's plan to nurture a relationship
between himself and Celeste in hopes of one day enticing her into his bed. It
probably didn't matter to him that she was yet unmarried and that he could so
easily ruin her reputation . . .

Susanna was astounded by how her mind was racing on and
on about Adam. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him and enjoy herself? She
had waited so eagerly for this day, but now that it was here, she had to admit
she was disappointed.

Her gaze skipped from one gentleman's face to another.
They all seemed so young, and though several of them were handsome, no one man
stood out. Yet these were her suitors, and from men such as these she must
choose a husband. Oh, they were nice enough, eager to please, fun-loving and
witty. Yet she couldn't imagine kissing but a few of them—she glanced at
Matthew's pudgy face with its sweating upper lip and shuddered slightly—and
even if she did, they couldn't possibly make her feel as Adam had last night—

Stunned that she would even think such a thing, Susanna
barely saw the brimming crystal cup hovering in front of her. She rose from the
bench so suddenly that lemon punch flew everywhere, but mostly down the front
of her gown, completely soaking the ruffled bodice.

"Oh, God, Miss Cary, forgive me! I've ruined your
pretty dress."

"No, no, it's all right," she said, trying to
reassure a stricken Mr. Dandridge as everyone gathered around her, appearing
uncertain how best to help. "I'll . . . I'll just go inside and
change."

"Let me escort you—"

"There's no need, Matthew. I'll be fine," she
insisted. Dropping her fan on the bench, she held her spattered skirt slightly
away from her body so as not to wet the hoop-petticoat underneath. "It was
about time for me to change into something more formal anyway. I'm sure the
dancing will start soon . . ." She paused, her eyes sweeping her anxious
guests. She felt terrible about the ruckus she had caused, and all because of .
. . Oh, she didn't want to think about it!

"Please, help yourselves to more food and
drink," she added graciously. "Prue will be so disappointed if her
good cooking goes to waste. And don't worry about me. This is such a small
mishap, it's truly not worth your concern."

Before anyone could say another word, she hurried
toward the house. She had almost reached the French doors when she spied Adam
rounding the corner with a smiling Celeste clinging to his arm.

Susanna shivered as his questioning gaze met hers, his
eyes intensely brown and piercing. She stepped inside quickly, trying not to
slam the doors behind her.

Chapter 10

"Oh, do you ever look pretty, Miss Camille,"
Corliss said, her hands clasped in front of her. "Prettier than any other
woman I've seen in these parts, I do swear. And it's only fitting that you
should be the belle of the ball tonight. It's your house party, after
all."

Studying her reflection in the full-length mirror,
Susanna didn't fully agree with her maid's flattering pronouncement, but she
did feel wonderful in this gown. The shimmering pearl-gray satin felt cool and
silky upon her skin, and it was nice to be out of that damp one. The rounded
neckline was a bit low and certainly Re nothing she had ever worn before, with
her breasts swelling seductively above the glittery lace edging, but she knew
it was fashionable for formal gowns to reveal more of a woman's assets than day
wear.

"Don't worry none about these stains on your blue
dress," Corliss added, picking up the soiled gown and draping it over her
arm. "I'll take it over to the laundry right now, before the spots have a
chance to dry." She shook her head disapprovingly. "I can't
understand why that Thomas Dandridge was so clumsy—"