Amazingly, she felt nothing—no desire, no passion—which surprised her considering that this man was soon to become her husband. His embrace was certainly not like those she had shared with Adam.
No, you will not compare them with each other! she berated herself as Dominick gradually deepened the kiss, his arms almost hurting her as he clasped her tightly to his chest. He parted her lips roughly with his tongue, and his breath began to come in short, ragged spurts as he explored her mouth. Still she felt no excitement, although she did her best to return his kiss, as an inexperienced young woman would.
As his embrace grew more demanding, she kept telling herself that in time she would feel with Dominick the way she had in Adam’s arms. In time she would know that same weakness in her limbs, that same wildness welling deep inside her, the same incredible craving for more of his touch.
She almost imagined that she was experiencing the slightest response when Dominick abruptly released her and moved away, yet in her heart she knew she hadn’t felt a thing. Discomfited because their first kiss had been so unfulfilling, she was relieved when a soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” Dominick said, his thin, self-assured smile easing her mind. Thankfully he hadn’t noticed her lack of response during their embrace.
The door opened, revealing a stunningly beautiful black woman dressed simply in a blue linen gown and apron. Tall and willowy, she had the proud bearing of a queen as she carried in a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses, yet her features were strangely expressionless. It was almost as if she had gone through a lifetime of keeping her emotions to herself. Only her dark oval eyes gave any clue as to what she was thinking, and they were filled with pity as she glanced at Susanna while setting the tray upon a table.
“I don’t usually introduce my servants to guests,” said Dominick, “but I want you to meet Cleo, my housekeeper. She’s been at Raven’s Point since I bought her as a young girl off a slave ship from Barbados. Cleo, this is the future Mrs. Dominick Spencer, Miss Camille Cary. She’ll soon be your new mistress.”
“Miss Cary,” the woman said with a lilting accent, dropping a slow curtsy.
“It’s a pleasure, Cleo,” Susanna murmured, wondering why the housekeeper was looking at her so oddly.
“I think you’ll be pleased with her work,” Dominick continued smoothly. “She manages the house slaves well, and she also knows how to read and write. I had her specially tutored after my wife passed away, since I needed someone who could run the household when I’m not here.”
Susanna offered Cleo a kind smile. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine—”
“Yes, now if you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Dominick broke in, not allowing the housekeeper even a chance to respond. He indicated by a slight touch on Cleo’s arm that she was to follow him into the hall. The woman visibly stiffened, but her lovely face remained blank, betraying no emotion, and now neither did her ebony eyes. Without a word, she lowered her head and left the room.
Trying not to eavesdrop, Susanna heard Dominick mention Corliss to the housekeeper, then something about having the cook prepare a light dinner. Then they moved further into the hall and she couldn’t hear any more. When Dominick returned, Cleo was gone. He poured them both some lemonade and handed Susanna a glass, then laced his drink with whiskey.
“Cleo will let us know when dinner is ready. It shouldn’t be long. We’ll talk until then.”
“Oh, I was hoping I might see the rest of the house and perhaps the grounds,” she said, taking a sip of lemonade.
His frown surprised her. “Another time,” he said. “There will be plenty of occasions in the weeks ahead to see everything. Today, my dearest Camille, let us simply enjoy each other’s company. Come, a toast to our happiness.”
Susanna’s disappointment eased as he raised his glass. He was right, after all. From now on, she imagined she would be spending a great deal of time at Raven’s Point.
***
“If she wasn’t the strangest bird I’ve ever seen,” Corliss commented as the carriage jostled along the bumpy dirt road toward Briarwood.
“Who?” Susanna asked.
“Mr. Spencer’s housekeeper, Cleo.”
“Now, why would you say such a thing? I didn’t find her strange, only a bit quiet. And she is certainly beautiful.”
“She’s all of that, Miss Camille, but a whole lot more, too. I don’t think she’s happy at Raven’s Point. I’ve never seen such empty eyes. I got chills just looking at her. After she brought me into the house, she seemed about to tell me something, then another servant walked by and she got this odd, fearful look on her face. She didn’t say another word after that. Not another word.”
“I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t be happy there,” Susanna replied, remembering the pity she had seen in the woman’s eyes. She shrugged, not understanding. “Dominick is the most charming and generous gentleman I’ve ever met.”
“Well, I hate to be saying this to you, seeing as you’re growing so fond of him and all, but nobody I saw in that house, or outside while I was sitting by myself in the coach looked very happy.” Corliss shook her head, her pretty face unusually solemn. “There were people working everywhere, but no one was laughing or talking like we do at Briarwood to lighten the day. I saw some poor folk heading to the tobo fields who were dressed in the dirtiest, shabbiest clothes I’ve ever seen. They looked half-starved too.” She sighed heavily. “I just don’t know what to think, Miss Camille. I always heard such fine things about Mr. Spencer.”
Susanna didn’t know either. She hadn’t seen any of this, and although she didn’t believe Corliss was exaggerating, she wondered if perhaps her maid’s impressions had been colored by what they had observed earlier in the tobacco fields.
She had attempted to discuss with Dominick her concerns about the use of young children as field laborers and overseers possessing whips, but he had evaded her questions, saying that they would talk about those issues at a later date. Now she wondered if she should have persisted, at least enough to receive some assurance from him that he would be willing to alter such practices once they were wed. She didn’t want her workers at Briarwood worrying that their lives might change for the worse once she became Mrs. Dominick Spencer.
“Corliss, I’m sure things weren’t as bad as they might have seemed,” she said. “Now please cheer up. I can’t have you returning to Briarwood with such a sad face. Everyone will think you’ve been to a funeral instead of shopping in Yorktown. Remember our secret?”
The young woman attempted a smile, but from the uncertainty in her eyes, something was obviously still troubling her. “You know what else I saw while I was waiting in the carriage, Miss Camille?” she said, then rushed on before Susanna could reply. “Convicts.”
“What?”
“Convicts, a whole line of them walking to the fields. They were chained to one another at the ankles, and they weren’t dressed no better than those other folk.” Corliss shuddered. “They were a sorry-looking bunch, all bearded and dirty. I’d heard before that some planters use such wretches in the fields, working them until they drop, but I never saw any before today.”
So now she had something else to discuss with Dominick, Susanna thought with exasperation, holding tightly onto the strap as the carriage swayed and pitched across a particularly bad patch of road. She didn’t like that such desperate and hopeless men were being used as slaves, if only for the danger they presented to everyone else, and she would tell Dominick that she wouldn’t allow them at Briarwood. Oh, why was this day turning into more of a frustration than the blessed end to her problems that she had envisioned?
“We’re almost home, Miss Camille,” Elias boomed in his deep baritone above the horses’ pounding hooves.
“Just in time,” she breathed to herself, noting with some apprehension that the sun had already set low behind the trees.
The journey had taken longer than she had anticipated. It must be past six o’c
lock. She wondered if Adam was back from the fields and hoped he wasn’t. She wanted to tear up her note. It had been haunting her all day, along with the knowledge that tomorrow he would receive the shock of his life.
“How long will I have to keep quiet about what we did today?” Corliss asked, leading Susanna to believe that their secret was already chafing her chatterbox of a waiting-maid.
“Not long,” she replied, her breath jamming in her throat when she spied Adam standing at the foot of the walkway, his arms crossed over his broad chest. As the carriage lurched around the drive, her heart began to pound. From the dark frown on his handsome face, she could tell he wasn’t pleased.
“Oh bloody hell,” she muttered before she could catch herself.
“Miss Camille!” Corliss exclaimed.
Ignoring her maid and forcing a bright smile, Susanna prepared herself for Adam’s displeasure.
Chapter 15
Impatiently watching the carriage come to a halt in front of him, Adam tried to tell himself that he wasn’t still angry, ever since an hour ago when he’d returned to the house and discovered that Camille had left early that morning. But dammit, he was angry! She could have at least informed him yesterday evening of her plans. He had become wracked by worry, too, especially when the sun had begun to set. He had been on his way to the stable to get his horse when the coach had come into view.
“Why, hello, Mr. Thornton,” came a soft, familiar voice from the shadowy coach interior.
“Miss Cary,” he said, attempting unsuccessfully not to sound irritated. “How was Yorktown?” He swung open the door, his gaze devouring her. God, she was beautiful. It felt like a lifetime since he had last seen her.
“Oh, we had a lovely time,” she said lightly, accepting his outstretched hand as she stepped to the ground, her apricot silk gown billowing around her. When she smiled at him in that sweet, secretive manner she had employed since the beginning of their courtship, he felt much of his anger fade. He squeezed her fingers in warm welcome as she tossed over her shoulder, “Didn’t we, Corliss?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Thornton, we sure did,” the maid replied, although her subdued expression struck Adam as odd. Usually so cheerful, Corliss seemed unwilling to meet his eyes as he helped her down from the carriage. “I’ll go prepare a bath for you, Miss Camille.” The maid hurried toward the house, leaving Adam to wonder.
“What’s wrong with Corliss? I’ve never seen her so quiet.”
“I imagine she’s just tired, like me. We’ve been on our feet all day … well, except for the ride to town and back.”
She glanced up at Elias, who to Adam also seemed strangely silent as he surveyed them from his high driver’s seat. Usually the man would have at least offered him a grin of hello. “Thank you for driving us, Elias.”
“My pleasure, Miss Camille.”
“Just a minute,” Adam said as the strapping coachman prepared to give the reins a yank and drive away. “Don’t you have any packages, Cam—Miss Cary?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t buy anything. Corliss and I just browsed through the shops while Elias waited with the carriage.”
“Just browsed? For six hours?”
“Why, yes. Shopping doesn’t necessarily mean you must buy something, Mr. Thornton,” she replied, her teasing tone chasing away the rest of his irritation. As a chuckle welled deep in his throat, Adam glanced sympathetically at Elias. No wonder the man was subdued after waiting all day for two women engaged in what to his mind must have been a total waste of time.
Waving the somber-faced coachman on his way, Adam was sorely tempted to take Camille’s arm as they walked to the house, but he suppressed the impulse. He was afraid that if he so much as touched her, he would crush her in his embrace, no matter how many servants might be watching. God help him, he couldn’t wait until Friday, when at least at Briarwood he would no longer have to hide his feelings for her!
“I missed you, my love,” he said instead, and was pleased when a pretty pink blush suffused her cheeks. “Terribly. Why didn’t you tell me last night that you might go into town today? I would have escorted you.”
“I … I didn’t want to bother you with my plans, Adam. I knew you had a lot of work to do, and I decided I would rather that you accompany me to the horse races tomorrow.”
He was startled because her expression had suddenly clouded. It almost appeared that her explanation had caused her some pain, though why that might be he couldn’t imagine.
“Is something wrong?” he inquired as they stepped into the hall, a footman closing the door behind them.
She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “No, I’m simply tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Then why don’t you go up and rest for a while?” he suggested with a heightened sense of protectiveness. He stopped with her at the foot of the stairs, repressing another powerful urge to sweep her into his arms. “I’ll have Prue hold our supper until a little later—say, half past eight. I hope you haven’t forgotten that you promised we would dine together tonight.”
“No, I haven’t forgotten.”
When she reached for the banister, Adam glanced behind him and, seeing that the footman had turned his back, he quickly brushed a kiss against her warm, petal-soft cheek.
“Adam!” she breathed in surprise, her foot freezing on the first step as her gaze darted beyond him to the front door.
He shrugged apologetically, his senses racing from the lush jasmine scent of her perfume, which reminded him all too potently of last night. He lowered his voice to a teasing whisper. “You had better go, my love, or I might be tempted to give you another.”
As her beautiful sea-green eyes widened, he could tell that she fully believed his playful threat. She gathered her skirts and, without even a backward glance, quickly ascended the stairs. Yet at the top, she threw him the slightest of smiles before disappearing down the hall.
Chuckling to himself and fingering the note in his pocket, which was to his delight signed Yours always, Camille, Adam waited until he heard her door close. It was amazing how relaxed he felt when only a short while ago he had been pacing the library in irrational anger, worry, and frustration.
“Love,” he said under his breath, shaking his head as he set out to look for Prue. It was heady, unpredictable stuff.
***
“Delicious supper, Prue,” Susanna said, laying down her napkin. She glanced self-consciously at Adam, who was leaning back in his chair and studying her in the candlelight, just as he had been doing since she had sat down with him at the table. “Didn’t you think so, Mr. Thornton?”
“Yes, excellent,” he replied, his eyes not leaving her face as he took a draught from his crystal goblet. “Thank you, Prue. I wouldn’t hesitate to say that yours is the best roast beef and gravy in the county.”
“Oh, go on, Mr. Thornton,” the stout cook demurred, although she beamed happily. Clearing the plates while a waiter poured more red wine into Susanna’s glass, she inquired, “Would you like some dessert, Miss Camille? I’ve got a nice berry cobbler warm from the oven…”
“No, thank you, Prue,” Susanna said, rising gracefully from the table. “Supper was so good and filling I don’t think I could eat another bite.” She looked at Adam, who appeared about to get up himself. “Oh, there’s no hurry, Mr. Thornton. If you’d like some dessert, please stay and help yourself. I really should be getting upstairs—”
“Why so early, Miss Cary?” he queried softly, leaving his chair despite her suggestion. “It’s only a little past nine. I know you have a very busy day planned tomorrow, but I would be honored if you could spare me another few moments of your time. There’s something I’d like to show you in the library.”
Realizing that Prue and the waiter were watching their exchange, Susanna used the most formal tone she could muster, although the teasing challenge in his eyes was making her feel flustered. “Very well, Mr. Thornton. A few minutes more. But then I really must retire.”
Smiling as he
nodded gallantly, he took their wine goblets from the table and followed her from the dining room.
“You play a pretty game, my love,” he said in a hushed voice, which Susanna hoped the housemaid coming down the stairs didn’t hear.
Not answering him, she walked quickly down the central hall toward the library, her mind racing. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his shadow, so broad and powerful, projected against the wall directly behind her own, which made her feel all the more uncomfortable. She knew he had nothing to show her. It was just a ruse to get her alone. Oh, why hadn’t she simply declined and gone to bed?
For that matter, why hadn’t she stayed in her room and not come down to supper at all, pleading fatigue? He would have believed her. What had driven her to spend this last evening with him, when she knew he would probably be cursing her name this same time tomorrow? What had compelled her to fulfill her promise to him when she knew what honoring it might cost her?
This evening had been sheer torture, the lies upon lies she was telling him becoming almost impossible to endure. He had asked her endless questions about her day in Yorktown, forcing her to conjure up stories about shops she hadn’t visited, bolts of beautiful fabric she hadn’t admired, the seamstress with whom she hadn’t discussed sewing some new gowns, and the silversmith over whose jewelry and fine tableware she hadn’t oohed and aahed.
She had felt guilty and ill at ease from the moment she had discovered him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, looking more devastatingly handsome than any man should, and she didn’t like it one bit. It didn’t make sense that she should feel this way. She didn’t love him. Then why should she imagine that she was betraying him? What utter nonsense!
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