Counterfeit Lady

by Jude Deveraux

  He moved on top of her, and she was ready for him. “Sweet Nicole,” he whispered, but she didn’t hear him. Her senses had changed from reality to the pure passion that Clay made her feel. She lifted her hips to meet him.

  It was some time later when Clay lay beside her and pulled her close to him. He kept one thigh thrown across her. His mouth was close to her ear, and his breath was sweet and warm.

  “Will you marry me?” he whispered.

  She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.

  “Don’t I get an answer?”

  Nicole could feel her body tense. “I am married to you.”

  He bent over her, his head propped on one arm. “I want you to marry me again, in front of the whole county. This time, I want to be there when we’re married.”

  She was silent as he ran one finger over her upper lip. “One time you told me you loved me,” he said. “Of course, you were drunk at the time, but you did say it. Did you mean it?”

  She could scarcely breathe. “Yes,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.

  “Then why won’t you marry me?”

  “Are you laughing at me? Are you teasing me?”

  He smiled and nuzzled her neck. “Do you find it so hard to believe that I could have any sense at all? How can you love a man you think is stupid?”

  “Clay, talk to me. I don’t understand what you’re saying. I’ve never thought you were stupid.”

  He looked at her again. “You should have. Everyone on the plantation gave their love to you except me. Even my horses are smarter than I am. Remember when I first kissed you on the ship? I was so angry because of what I’d lost—you. I never wanted to let you go, yet there you stood telling me that you weren’t really mine. I was furious when I saw that note and frantic when I couldn’t find you. I think Janie knew then that I’d fallen in love with you.”

  “But Bianca—” Nicole began, but Clay put a finger to her lips.

  “She’s in the past now, and I’d like for us to go on from here. Ellen knows we were married by proxy on the ship, and she will understand if we ask to be remarried here.”

  “Remarried? Here?”

  Clay kissed her nose and smiled, his eyes twinkling brightly in the moonlight. “Is it such an impossible idea? Then we’d have about a hundred witnesses who’d swear we weren’t forced into a marriage. I don’t want the idea of an annulment to come up later.” He grinned. “Even if I beat you.”

  Her tenseness left her. “You would be sorry.”

  “Oh?” he laughed. “What would you do?”

  “Get Maggie to stop cooking, tell the twins what you’d done so they could hate you, too, and—”

  “Hate me?” He was suddenly serious, and he pulled her close to him. “We’re alone, you and I. We have only each other. You must promise never to hate me.”

  “Clay,” she gasped, trying to breathe. “I didn’t mean it. How could I hate you when I love you so much?”

  “I love you, too,” he said, then released his hold on her slightly. “It’ll probably take about three days to prepare everything for the wedding, but you do agree, don’t you?”

  She laughed against him. “You ask me if I agree to the thing I want most in life? Yes, I’ll marry you. Every day, if you want.”

  He began kissing her neck hungrily.

  Nicole’s mind soared. She’d wanted this day to last forever. Maybe she’d never have to return to a life where she lived in one house and Clay in another. If they could only be married publicly before they returned, she felt she’d be safe. There would be witnesses to the fact that Clay loved her and wanted her.

  The word Bianca flashed across her mind, but Clay’s kisses sent all thoughts far away. Three days, he’d said. What could happen in three days?

  Chapter 11

  WHEN NICOLE AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING, SHE COULDN’T believe the things that had happened the night before. It all seemed too good to be true. She was alone in the bedroom, and the sun was streaming through the window. She smiled as she heard the excited voices beneath the window. The horse races were about to begin. She jumped out of bed and quickly dressed in a simple gown of butterscotch muslin.

  It took her several minutes to find her way out of the house to the tables set up for breakfast. She was eating a plate of scrambled eggs when she felt a hush fall over the people around her. One by one, they all seemed to grow quiet.

  She stood up and looked toward the wharf. What she saw threatened to stop her heart. Wesley walked beside Bianca. Nicole had felt safe in this place, away from Bianca, but now she saw her world starting to crumble about her.

  Bianca walked toward the group confidently. She wore a gown of mauve satin with large black flowers embroidered around the hem. There was a row of wide lace at the high waist and neckline. Her large breasts were only barely concealed by the brilliantly colored dress. She carried a parasol of matching satin.

  Even as Nicole watched them approach, she began to wonder at the silence of the others. She knew that Bianca’s presence upset her, but why did it affect the people who did not know her? She looked at them and saw the looks of surprise on their faces.

  “Beth,” she heard repeatedly. “Beth.”

  “Wesley,” Ellen called across the lawn. “You gave us such a fright!” She started walking across the grass toward them. “Welcome,” she said, and held out her hand.

  Even when they were close to the tables, Nicole still couldn’t move. Wesley broke away from Bianca, who had already taken a plate. The women surrounded her.

  “Hello,” Wesley said to Nicole. “How do you like our Virginia parties so far?”

  When Nicole looked at him, her eyes were full of tears. Why, she wondered. Why had he brought Bianca? Did he hate her for some reason and want her away from Clay?

  “Nicole,” Wesley said, and put his hand on her arm. “Trust me. Please?”

  She could only nod. She had no other answer for him.

  Ellen walked behind Wes. “Where did you find her? Has Clay seen her?”

  Wesley smiled. “He’s seen her.” He held his arm out to Nicole. “Would you like to walk to the racetrack with me?”

  Mutely, she took his arm.

  “What do you know about Beth?” Wes asked when they were away from the others.

  “Only that she was killed, along with Clay’s brother,” Nicole answered. She stopped suddenly. “Bianca looks like Beth, doesn’t she?”

  “It’s a shock at first. Standing very still, she does look like Beth, but once she opens her mouth all resemblance disappears.”

  “Then Clay—” she began.

  “I don’t know. I can’t speak for him. All I know is that at first I thought she was Beth. I know Clay’s…concern for her is based on her resemblance to Beth. There couldn’t be anything else, since she’s not what I’d call a pleasant woman.” He grinned. “Clay and I had a few words about her.” He flexed his jaw. “I just thought maybe it would do him some good to see the two of you together.”

  Nicole realized he meant well, but she’d seen the way Clay looked at Bianca, had seen the way he adored her. She didn’t know if she could stand to see him look at another woman that way again.

  “What happened in the races yesterday? Did Clay beat Travis? I hope so.”

  “I think they’re tied,” Nicole laughed, glad to change the subject. “But would you like to hear about my plans for a new red cloak?”

  It was a rule of Virginia house parties that all of the guests took care of themselves. There was food constantly in view, every game imaginable, servants to help with every wish. So, when the horn sounded for the morning’s races to begin, the women felt free to leave Bianca to herself when she refused their invitations to attend the races with them. But Bianca’s eyes couldn’t leave the food on the tables. That horrible Maggie had all but refused to cook for her after Clay had left.

  “Are you the Maleson woman I been hearin’ about?”

  Bianca looked across the plate she was filling to the t
all man. He was thin to the point of emaciation. His worn, dirty coat hung on him. His face was obscured by long, straggling black hair and a thin black beard. His nose was large, his lips almost nonexistent, but his eyes were like two black coals peering out of the brush of beard and hair. His eyes were small and so close together that the inner corners seemed to overlap.

  Bianca grimaced and looked away from the man.

  “I asked you a question, woman! Are you a Maleson?”

  She glared at him. “I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours. Now let me pass.”

  “A glutton!” he said, eying her heaping platter. “Gluttony is a sin, and you’ll pay for it.”

  “If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call someone.”

  “Pa, let me talk to her. I think she’s kinda pretty.”

  Bianca looked with interest at the man who now stepped from behind his father. He was a strong, healthy young man, no more than twenty-five years old, but unfortunately with his father’s face. The little dark eyes went over Bianca’s soft white body.

  “Our mother’s maiden name was Maleson. We heard you was gonna marry Clayton Armstrong, and we wrote you in England. I don’t know if you ever got the letter or not.”

  Bianca remembered the letter quite well. So this was the riffraff that dared to claim to be related to her. “I received no letter.”

  “The wages of sin are death!” the old man said in a voice that would carry across the plantation.

  “Pa, those people over there are gamblin’ and bettin’ on horses. You oughtta go talk to them while we get to know our cousin.”

  Bianca turned and walked away from the group. She had no intention of talking with any of them. She had no more than sat down when two young men came to sit by her. Across from her sat the man who’d spoken before, and beside her was another man, a shorter, younger boy, about sixteen. The boy’s looks were softened by lighter-colored eyes, the shape of them rounder, farther apart.

  “This here’s Isaac,” said the older son, “and I’m Abraham Simmons. That man was our pa.” He nodded to the old man hurrying toward the racetrack with a large Bible under his arm. “Pa don’t care nothin’ about anythin’ except preachin’. But Ike and me got other plans.”

  “Would you please go somewhere else? I would like to enjoy my breakfast.”

  “That’s enough for three meals, lady,” Ike said.

  “You sure are uppity, ain’t you?” Abe said. “You’d think you’d be glad to talk to us, bein’ as we’re related and all.”

  “I am not related to you!” Bianca said fiercely.

  Abe leaned away from the table and stared at her. His little beady eyes narrowed until they were only slits of black light. “It don’t look to me like you’re over-flowin’ with friends. We heard you was to marry Armstrong and own Arundel Hall.”

  “I am mistress of the Armstrong plantation,” she said smugly between mouthfuls.

  “Then who’s that pretty little woman Clay says is his wife?”

  Bianca set her jaw as she chewed steadily. She was still burning over the fact that Clay had left her to take Nicole with him. He’d behaved strangely toward her after the night that nice Mr. Wesley Stanford had joined them for supper. Clay had seemed to be watching her constantly since then, and Bianca had begun to feel ill at ease. She’d broached the idea of adding a wing to the house, and he’d merely sat and stared at her. Bianca had angrily left the room. She vowed she’d repay him for his rudeness.

  Then suddenly he’d left the plantation. She was glad when he was gone; his constant presence made her nervous. She’d spent hours planning menus for her meals while he was gone. She was livid when that disgusting Maggie prepared less than half the dishes she’d ordered. While she was in the kitchen telling the cook that if she valued her job she’d better get busy, Wesley reappeared. He told her of the party and that Clay had taken Nicole.

  Reluctantly, Bianca had readied herself to travel to the Backes’s plantation early the next morning. How dare that horrible Nicole try to take what was hers! She’d show her! All she had to do was smile at Clay, and he’d act like he did the first night he saw her. Oh, yes, she knew what charms the women of her family had.

  “The woman was once my maid,” Bianca said loftily.

  “Your maid!” Abe laughed. “It looks like she’s Clay’s maid now.”

  “Take your filthy mind elsewhere,” she said as she rose to refill her plate.

  “Listen,” Abe said, following her. He was serious now. “I thought you was gonna marry Clay and then you could help us. Pa’s never cared about anything but preachin’. We’ve got some land not too far from Clay’s, but we don’t have any stock. We was hopin’ you could loan us your bull and, seein’ as we’re family, maybe give us a couple of your heifers.”

  “And some chickens,” Ike said. “Ma’d like some more chickens. She’s your third cousin.”

  Bianca whirled on them. “I am not related to you! How dare you presume on me and my prospects? How dare you speak to me of…animals!”

  It took Abe a moment to reply. “There’s somethin’ wrong here, Miss High-and-Mighty. You ain’t gonna get none of Clay’s money, are you? You come all the way from England, and then he married your maid instead of you!” Abe began to laugh. “That’s the best story I’ve heard in years. Just wait till I tell that one around here.”

  “It’s not true!” Bianca said, her eyes beginning to tear. “Clayton is going to marry me! I am going to own the Armstrong plantation. It will just take time, that’s all. He’s going to annul his marriage to my maid.”

  Abe and Ike exchanged looks of suppressed laughter. “Annul, huh?” Abe smirked. “Yesterday, when she was sittin’ on his lap and feedin’ him, it didn’t look like he was thinkin’ of gettin’ rid of her.”

  “And what about when he took her upstairs in the middle of the afternoon?” Ike said. He was at an age when he’d just discovered the opposite sex. He’d spent an hour under a tree imagining what Clay was doing with his pretty little wife. “When he come down, he had a grin from one ear to the other.”

  The dirty little harlot, Bianca thought. The bitch thought she could take the plantation away from her by using her body to entice Clay. She looked from the plate of food to the path to the raceway. As soon as she finished her breakfast, she’d straighten Nicole out. She put her chin into the air and walked past the young men.

  “You may find you’ll be wantin’ a friend sometime,” Abe called after her. “We don’t forget family as quick as you, but our price is gonna be a lot higher from now on. Come on, Ike, let’s go get Pa outta trouble.”

  It was an hour later when Bianca finally made her way to the racetrack. She found the entire day strenuous and wearing on her nerves. She’d be glad when she would no longer have to fight to get what she wanted. Someday, the Armstrong plantation would be hers and she’d be able to rest after meals to allow her food to digest properly. Now, all because of Nicole, she had to attend these disgusting parties with these loud, lower-class people.

  She saw Nicole standing beside Ellen Backes at the edge of the racetrack. The other women were loudly yelling at the horses, but Nicole was quiet, a look of worry on her face. She kept looking toward one end of the track, where Clay stood in the midst of several men.

  Bianca tapped Nicole on the shoulder with the point of her parasol. “Come here,” she commanded when Nicole turned around.

  With resignation, Nicole followed Bianca away from the others.

  “What are you doing here?” Bianca demanded. “It’s not your place to be here, and you know it! If you won’t think of me or of Clay, think of yourself. I’ve heard how you’ve acted like the lowest street trash around him. What are people going to say when he rids himself of you and marries me? Who will want to marry you when they know you’re such used goods?”

  Nicole stared at the taller woman. All she could think of was the horrible idea of being with any man except Clay.

  “Shall we go together to se
e him?” Bianca asked smugly. “Do you remember how he ignored you when I first arrived from England?”

  Nicole knew those few minutes were branded on her heart.

  “You’ll learn someday that a man must respect a woman before he can love her. When you act like a street woman, you’ll be treated as one.”

  “Nicole,” Ellen said from behind her, “are you all right? You look as if you’re not feeling well.”

  “A little too much sun, perhaps.”

  Ellen smiled. “It couldn’t be a little one, could it?”

  Nicole’s hand flew to her stomach. How she wished Ellen could be right.

  “Maybe it’s too much food,” Bianca said. “One should never overeat and then stand in the sun. I think I’ll walk back to the house. I think you should come with me, Nicole.”

  “Yes, do,” Ellen urged.

  The last thing Nicole wanted was more of Bianca’s company, but she saw Clay and the men walking toward them. She couldn’t bear to see Clay’s eyes melt at the sight of his beloved.

  There were at least three great rooms in Ellen’s house, and now all of them were full of people. A sudden cold shower had sent them scurrying inside. Fires had been lit all over the house, and as the massive masonry units of the fireplaces began to heat, the house grew warm.

  Clay sat in a leather wing chair, sipping a mug of small beer and watching the twins pop corn over the fire. A few minutes before, he’d gone upstairs to find Nicole asleep in their bed. He was worried about her because all morning people had told him about the woman who looked just like Beth.

  “Won’t you sit down?” he heard a familiar voice say. He turned to see Wes standing rather close, facing him. A figure that was unmistakably Bianca’s had her back to him.

  Clay hadn’t wanted to see her yet. First he wanted to talk to Nicole, reassure her, prevent her from worrying. He started to rise, but Wes gave him a look of warning. Clay shrugged and sat back down. Maybe Wes wanted to be alone with her.

  “This must be a great shock to you,” Wes said, his voice carrying easily across to Clay.