He mounted the steps to his office and, once inside the moonlit room, sat down heavily on the bed.
One thing was perfectly clear to him. Camille might think their “little deception” as she called it, was going to be fun and romantic and slightly naughty, but he knew better.
For him, at least, the next few weeks would be pure hell.
Chapter 12
“My, we’ve certainly made the rounds in the last two weeks, haven’t we?” Celeste commented to no one in particular inside the swaying coach. She began to count on her slim white fingers. “First, of course, was Camille’s lovely welcome ball, which was a huge success by any standards, then Amy’s birthday picnic on Tuesday, followed by several dinner parties and overnight stays at the homes of some of the finest families in the Tidewater …” She paused and pointedly regarded her brother, who was seated directly across from her ogling Susanna. “Help me, Matthew dear. What else?”
He shot her a look of chagrin. “There was the all-day musicale last Monday at the Wormeleys’—”
“Oh, yes, the one event Adam couldn’t attend because he had to catch up on his work at Briarwood,” Celeste said in a petulant voice, placing her hand possessively on Adam’s forearm. When he continued to stare out the window without replying, she focused her attention upon Susanna, who was seated across from him, uncomfortably close to Matthew.
“I still can’t believe you refused to play the pianoforte for us, Camille, especially after how your father once boasted to my papa that you played like an angel. And don’t tell me that you’re just too shy to perform in public. You’ve blossomed into the belle of the Tidewater since your ball, so that excuse doesn’t count any longer.”
Exasperated because she had already explained herself to Celeste several times, Susanna nonetheless kept her voice light as she repeated her excuse. “Papa highly exaggerated my skills. I’m really not very good, despite what he must have said.”
Not good was an understatement, she thought, trying to ignore how Celeste was caressing Adam’s sleeve. She couldn’t playa note. Recalling how unpleasant it had felt to be pressured in front of so many people, she resolved again never to attend any more musicales.
“Well, I don’t know if I believe you,” Celeste replied airily, snaking her arm through Adam’s as she said to him in a playful aside, “Do you?”
“If Miss Cary says she doesn’t play well, then I believe her,” he answered, the tightness along his jaw showing that he wasn’t happy with Celeste’s increasingly frequent gestures of familiarity.
“Oh, you would, seeing as Camille’s your employer,” the redhead retorted, then she blithely changed the subject, counting once more upon her fingers. “Let’s see, after the musicale there was the card party Wednesday at the Dandridges’, a boat ride on the James and that wonderful two-night stay with the Fitzhughs’, a barbeque at our house on Saturday, services yesterday at the parish church, and now today, a trip into Yorktown to visit the shops.” She meaningfully kneed her brother, who was staring at Susanna with a look of rapt admiration. “Do you have any suggestions as to what we might do tomorrow, Matthew? We have several events to choose from or we could find our own amusement.”
“Well—”
“Actually, I’d like to spend the day at home,” Susanna interrupted him, more weary of Matthew’s incessant company and moon-eyed, worshipful glances than she could ever say. When Celeste and her brother looked equally surprised and crestfallen, she hastily added, “I’ll see you again on Wednesday. That is, Mr. Thornton and I” —she glanced at Adam, who was smiling his approval in that warm, intimate fashion that never failed to fluster her, then she skipped her gaze back to Celeste— “since we’re all attending the horse races together at the Tates’. I need some time to rest. We’ve been so busy, traveling so much …”
“No, you just want some time to decide which of your suitors you’re going to take seriously, isn’t that right, Camille?” Celeste said, arching a slim russet brow. “You certainly have enough of them.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Susanna answered, acutely aware that Adam’s smile had suddenly faded.
“Oh, come now, you don’t fool me. You know that you’ll have a riot on your hands if you don’t make up your mind soon. Why, you’re making all the unmarried girls in the Tidewater as jealous as peahens.” She gave Adam’s arm a light squeeze, smiling up at him. “Except me, of course.” She sobered a little, darting a sympathetic glance at her brother. “I think you’re making Matthew a little jealous, too.”
“Celeste …”
She ignored her brother’s embarrassed entreaty and rushed on. “I do believe today was the first time he didn’t have to compete with anyone else for your attention, and especially not the honorable Mr. Spencer. Yorktown must have been a bit too far of a drive for him from Raven’s Point.” Her forehead crinkled into a frown. “I really don’t know what attracts you to him, Camille. Oh, he might be rich and handsome and have a seat on the governor’s council, but he’s so old!”
As Adam noticeably tensed, his expression growing thunderous, Susanna wished Celeste would swallow a fly or choke on her foolish tongue, anything to cease her endless chatter.
How much longer would she be able to stall Adam’s desire to publicly announce his courtship of her, when Celeste continually made it a point to comment upon Dominick’s presence at most of their outings? She could sense Adam’s frustration growing with each passing day, and these little barbs didn’t help. She couldn’t have been more relieved when the Grymes’s coach turned onto her drive, and the Cary mansion appeared through the trees.
“Are you sure we can’t persuade you to join us tomorrow?” Celeste asked, directing her pouty question more at Adam than at Susanna. “Perhaps just you and I could meet—”
“Sorry, Celeste. There’s a lot of work I have to get done before Wednesday,” he said, cutting her off brusquely, then climbing from the carriage as soon as it jolted to a halt. As he assisted Susanna to the ground and unloaded her few packages, Matthew jumped down, too, and stood awkwardly next to her.
“I had a wonderful time today, Miss Cary. I’m glad you liked the music box I bought for you.”
“It was too generous a gift,” Susanna said, holding the prettily wrapped box. “You shouldn’t have.”
Matthew shrugged self-consciously, a blush creeping over his chubby cheeks. “I wanted to.”
“I’ll treasure it, then. Thank you, Matthew.”
His neck turned bright red against the abundant white frills at his throat. “Yes … uh, well, good-bye, Miss Cary. We’ll see you on Wednesday morning. Would nine o’clock be too early?”
“No, that will be fine.”
Adam’s voice held barely concealed irritation. “Good-bye, Matthew. You two had better head home. There’s only an hour left before dark.”
Nodding, the young planter reboarded the carriage. Both he and his sister waved from the windows as it clattered around the drive.
“Good-bye, Adam!” Celeste called out, boldly throwing him a kiss. “I can hardly wait until Wednesday!”
“Nor can I,” he muttered sarcastically.
Deciding it was best to pretend not to hear him, Susanna picked up the largest package, which contained a new straw hat she planned to wear at the horse races.
“I’ll carry that for you,” Adam said, their hands brushing as he took the round box from her and gathered up her two smaller parcels.
“Thank you,” she murmured, unsettled by even the slightest physical contact with him. He hadn’t touched her since his good-night kiss yesterday, which was quite enough temptation for her weakening defenses.
She had come to dread that intimate ritual when he escorted her to her room on the evenings they spent alone at Briarwood. His embraces, sometimes passionate, sometimes achingly tender, never failed to unleash within her desires she had been desperately trying to keep under control. She had told herself a thousand times she wasn’t falling in love with him, nor
he with her, but when he held her in his arms, nothing made sense anymore.
Thank God she had made up her mind to marry Dominick Spencer, Susanna thought as they walked to the house, Adam strangely silent beside her. She wanted this increasingly disturbing relationship to end. She had yet to visit Raven’s Point, but now she considered that a mere formality. During the past two weeks Dominick had more than shown her that he was the kind of gentleman of whom Lady Redmayne would have approved.
He had been very well received by all of her hosts, indicating to her that he was highly respected. Everything she had heard from him and others about Raven’s Point had convinced her that he would be able to support her without any assistance from her own inheritance, and her marriage to one of the governor’s close advisors certainly wouldn’t damage the Cary reputation.
She wasn’t in love with him, but that had never been an issue. And she didn’t mind that he was much older than she was, despite what Celeste might think. Dominick possessed a mature and elegant manner that was altogether lacking in the younger planters she had met. He was so attractive and charming and generous, she couldn’t help but believe she would be content with him, just as Lady Redmayne had said
“Did you have a nice time in Yorktown, Miss Camille?”
Nudged from her reverie by Ertha’s friendly question, Susanna smiled at the housekeeper, who was holding open the front door for them. “Yes, I did,” she replied, although it was a half-truth. Having Matthew follow her around all day like a besotted puppy hadn’t been pleasant, and Celeste’s constant flirting with Adam had defied Susanna’s best efforts to remain unaffected by her niggling, irrational jealousy. Still, she had enjoyed the shopping.
It had been a new and unsettling experience to have so much money to spend. She couldn’t wait to use the hard-milled soap, bath oil, powder, and perfume she had bought, all of which had the same heady fragrance, yellow jasmine. She liked it much better than lavender, which only brought her sad reminders of Camille.
“What’s this?” Ertha asked, eyeing the beribboned package Susanna held in her hands. “Another gift?”
“Yes, from Matthew Grymes. A porcelain music box.”
“My goodness, child, you’re surely collecting a host of lovely things from your admirers, but I think Mr. Spencer has them beat with that fine racehorse he gave you and that beautiful emerald necklace. You must be considering him seriously to accept such expensive things from him.”
Susanna jumped as Adam fairly slammed her packages down on the hall table behind her.
“Forgive me,” he said tersely, his eyes a dark, turbulent hue as he leveled his gaze upon her. “They slipped.”
“Th-that’s all right,” she said, throwing a nervous smile at Ertha, who was regarding them curiously.
“Could we step into the library, Miss Cary? There is some business I’ve been meaning to discuss with you, and now that Mr. and Miss Grymes have left, I think it’s a good time—”
“Can’t it wait until later, Mr. Thornton?” she interrupted, surmising exactly what he wanted to talk about and hoping to avoid for as long as possible what she imagined would be a disagreeable discussion. “Perhaps until morning? It’s been such a long day.”
“No.”
She swallowed hard, knowing from his curt answer that she had lost this battle. Not wanting to make any more of a scene in front of Ertha, she acquiesced. “Very well, Mr. Thornton. If your business is that urgent.”
“I assure you, it is.”
“If you’d like, Miss Camille, I could take your things upstairs for you,” the housekeeper offered, appearing more confused.
“Thank you, Ertha. There are some toiletries in that small package” —hopefully not shattered, she thought with vexation, glancing at Adam— “several pairs of dress gloves in the other one and a new hat in the large box. Could you see that everything is put away?”
“Of course.”
Susanna handed the housekeeper the gift from Matthew, then she followed Adam into the library.
“Sit down,” he ordered, closing the door firmly.
She obliged him, feeling nervous yet angry that he would treat her like a disobedient child. He walked to a window and stared outside for a long moment, as if not readily trusting himself to speak, then he turned and met her eyes. She had never seen him look more deadly serious, or more devastatingly handsome.
“I will not tolerate any more of this charade, Camille. I’ve kept silent and played along for two weeks now, but that’s it. On Wednesday, I plan to announce our betrothal at the Tates’.”
Susanna gaped at him, a strange, trapped feeling rising inside her chest. She had expected him to be upset, to perhaps express some reservations about continuing as they had been, but not this! He looked so resolute, his very stance screaming to her that he had firmly made up his mind, that she didn’t know what she could possibly say to persuade him to wait just a little while longer.
“Adam, if it was Matthew’s gift—” she began lamely.
“A trinket, Camille! I don’t care about that damn music box or the bumpkin who gave it to you. It’s the racehorse and jeweled necklace that you’ve so naively accepted which concern me. Don’t you realize the false impression you’re giving that bast—” He fell abruptly silent, as if catching himself, then sighed heavily. “Our deception isn’t a game anymore, my love. You may have derived some innocent pleasure from it and found it romantic and perhaps even exciting, but these few weeks have been nothing but torture for me.”
Her heart pounding, Susanna watched as he sat down almost wearily on the arm of a stuffed chair. She sensed truth behind his words, and felt fresh guilt for the devious chase on which she was leading him. But she wouldn’t be doing so if he hadn’t overstepped the bounds of propriety with her in the first place! It was his own fault that he would soon find himself so rudely disappointed.
“Adam,” she tried again, desperately trying to think of some way to mollify him. “I never expected that Id be receiving presents from those gentlemen, and I never intended to keep any of them. They don’t mean anything to me.”
“Then you can return them on Wednesday.”
When he paused, studying her face, Susanna feared he might detect her lie. She almost sighed in relief when he continued with quiet vehemence.
“Your secret glances and furtive smiles, however beautiful, are not enough for me, Camille. Our rare, stolen moments of conversation will no longer suffice. I want to court you in public where everyone can see us; to talk to you openly; to hold your hand, embrace you, and kiss you as I’ve been tempted to do countless times. I want everyone,” he emphasized, his voice growing harsh, “especially those who’ve held any hope of having you for themselves, to know that you belong to me.”
Susanna inhaled in surprise as Adam came to her, pulling her up almost roughly to stand in front of him.
“Tell me that you want this, Camille,” he demanded softly. “Please. Tell me.”
Panicking, Susanna could think of nothing to sway him.
What was she going to do? Wednesday was too soon. Adam would ruin everything … her reputation, her chance to wed the proper husband! Oh, if only she could somehow speak to Dominick, somehow see him before the races and let him know that she wanted to become his wife. If only there was some way she could make Adam promise he wouldn’t say anything until after Wednesday, buying her a little more time—
The idea, a feminine, manipulative ploy as old as time, came to her at the same instant Adam lowered his head to kiss her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she forced herself to think of the only thing that had made her weep in years, Camille’s death, and she began to cry in earnest, hating herself for exploiting her painful memories but believing she had no other choice. She was doing it for Camille’s sake, after all.
Adam felt her shoulders trembling an instant before he tasted a salty, telltale wetness on her lips. Drawing back as if stung, he regarded her in astonishment.
“Camille. What the devi
l … ?”
“I—I’m sorry, Adam,” she sobbed, her eyes like huge green pools as tears tumbled down her cheeks. “I … I don’t know why I’m crying …”
Now you’ve gone and done it, he thought angrily, thoroughly exasperated with himself. Pushed her too damn hard. Forced his will on her when he had promised that he never would. As she sank into her chair and wept harder, burying her face in her hands, his self-disgust mounted.
Why did he have to be so blasted impatient anyway? She hadn’t deliberately done anything to displease him. It wasn’t her fault that his jealousy and frustration were practically eating him alive. He knew she was playing a harmless virgin’s game, harmless but for the bruised male pride her hapless suitors would be nursing when she announced who she intended to marry. Why couldn’t he allow her to satisfy her girlish fantasies?
“Camille, it’s all right,” he said, at a total loss as how best to comfort her. What man wasn’t stumped when faced with a woman’s tears? He made a quick search of his pockets and, finding a cambric handkerchief, went down on one knee beside her.
“Look at me,” he bade her gently. When she lifted her head, he cradled her softly rounded chin in his palm and wiped the moisture from her flushed face. “Shhh, love,” he murmured, attempting to calm her. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you, so impatient. Shhh, there’s no need to cry.”
“Oh, Adam … I’d like to announce our betrothal, too,” she managed shakily, gazing at him so beseechingly that he felt like kicking himself. “But not … at the Tates’.”
“Where then, love?” he asked.
“I thought we might have a small engagement party, not too many people … here at Briarwood. At home. Papa would have liked that.” She took the handkerchief from him with trembling fingers and delicately blew her nose. “Do you think that would be all right?”
Elation momentarily clogging his throat, Adam knew he could refuse her nothing. He gathered her into his arms and stroked her honey-colored hair, reveling in its silkiness. Only when she lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him did he murmur, “Of course, love. Anything, if it will please you. When would you like to have your party?”
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