“Aye, she was pretty. My father used to curse me up and down because I looked just like her, with the same eyes and hair.”
Wondering if Susanna realized that she had lapsed back into her London accent, Adam decided not to mention it to her. Perhaps her recollections were drawing it from her, he reasoned. Anyway, he liked it.
“What did your father do … Daniel, wasn’t it?” he asked her gently, feeling her stiffen against him.
“Yes. He was a foundryman until he lost his job. He never went back to find another. My mother died when I was three. When I turned four my papa sent me out into the streets to beg for him. Sometimes I even picked pockets, but that was only when I hadn’t earned enough coins during the day to save myself from a beating.” She slowly exhaled. “Sometimes he was so drunk that no amount of money made any difference.”
So that was the source of her vivid nightmares, Adam thought, sickened by what she must have suffered at that man’s brutal hands. Yet he was also grateful that at least one thing she had told him when she was masquerading as Camille was true.
“So you ran away from him when he wanted to sell you to Keefer Dunn,” he prodded, hoping not to upset her.
“Aye, when I was twelve. Lady Redmayne and Camille saved me. If they hadn’t come along—” She shuddered in his arms, then quickly changed the subject. “I owe everything to Camille … Lady Redmayne, too, but especially Camille because she never treated me like her waiting-maid. I was her friend and she was mine, the kind you’re lucky to find once in your life.” Her low-spoken words throbbed with emotion. “I would have done anything for her. Anything. I owed her so much …”
As Susanna’s voice faded into a poignant silence, Adam realized with startling clarity how cruelly he had misjudged her. Until now, he had never believed that she and Camille could have truly been close friends, but there was no mistaking the fervent testimony she had just given him. He recalled how Polly Blake had described Camille weeping so bitterly at her waiting-maid’s burial. Those had been Susanna’s tears for a lost friend … a friend whose dying wish she had sworn to honor.
“You know, Adam,” she said, meeting his eyes, “I haven’t had a single nightmare since we were married. Not even during the past two nights when you were gone.” She looked abruptly away then, as if afraid he would read some emotion in her gaze. “You said to me once that you would help chase away my nightmares. I think you already have.”
Adam froze against her, unable to believe what he had just heard from her lips.
Why had she said that to him, and so sweetly? he wondered, painfully recalling that evening in the library when he had sworn to protect her with his life and then admitted how much he loved her. A familiar mistrust crept like cold fingers through his mind and body, chilling him to the marrow. Why would she refer to such a moment? Why?
To know that she hadn’t masqueraded as Camille out of her own selfish greed was one thing, but she had still purposely deceived him because she had thought he wasn’t good enough to marry. He didn’t dare hope that there was some affection behind her words, and open himself up for some new treachery.
No, there had to be some other explanation for why she was trying to make him believe her heart was softening toward him. There had to be some dark motive behind her countless attempts to please him, and this sudden, dangerously compelling flattery.
“We’ve talked enough, Camille,” he said, hearing the hard, bitter edge in his voice. “I want you to look your best tomorrow and you won’t if you have dark smudges under your eyes. Now go to sleep.”
Turning abruptly onto his other side with his back to her, he could feel that she was staring at him in startled surprise, then she sighed in resignation.
“Very well, Adam. Good night.”
He didn’t answer, closing his eyes and his heart against her once more.
Chapter 22
“Smile, Mrs. Thornton, or no one will know you’re having a good time,” Adam whispered in a low aside as they walked from the crowded dance floor to the side of the brightly lit room. He gave her elbow a sharp squeeze to emphasize his words. “I said, smile.”
Susanna did her best, but her heart wasn’t in it. How could it be, when he had been treating her so callously all day?
She was such a fool, thinking her revelation last night about her nightmares might please him. Instead it had made him so angry that he had scarcely spoken to her until they had arrived at Westover this afternoon. Then it was only to give her these brusque commands on how she was to behave at the home of the most influential planter in the Tidewater, William Byrd, or else to play the doting husband whenever anyone was around to see.
When was she going to realize that Adam didn’t trust her? she wondered, cursing her impatience. It would be months before he believed anything she had to say, regardless of when he achieved his revenge against Dominick. Heaven give her the strength to wait that long! When he used such a cutting tone with her, it was all she could do to hold her tongue. Yet if she vented her temper, she imagined it would only drive him that much further away.
Overwhelmed with frustration, Susanna fanned her face with vigor. She was grateful for the lull in the music so she might catch her breath. The eight musicians had kept up an exuberant rhythm for almost an hour now. She felt flushed from her scalp to her slippered toes, not only from the spirited saraband they had just danced, but also from the stuffy warmth of the large reception room that served as the Byrds’ ballroom.
Longing to move nearer the wide-opened windows for some fresh air, she glanced at Adam to find he was gazing at her in admiration. Familiar excitement shot through her, the kind she always felt when he looked at her in such a hungry manner.
“That rosy color in your cheeks suits you, my love,” he said softly, his gaze straying to the rise and fall of her breasts, swelling provocatively against her daring bodice. “It goes very well with the cream silk of your gown … which fits you quite becomingly.”
“Thank you, Adam,” she replied, mollified that he would say such nice things to her when no one else was near. “I believe that’s the first compliment you’ve paid me all day. I was beginning to believe you hadn’t noticed how carefully I had dressed for this evening, it being our first social outing together as husband and wife.”
His arresting brown eyes caught and held hers. “As I’ve told you before, Camille, nothing about you escapes my notice. Nothing.”
“Well, you two lovebirds, are you enjoying the party?” came Robert Grymes’s blustering voice. As their stout neighbor lumbered up to them, Susanna wished someone would quickly draw his attention elsewhere so that she and Adam might continue the first promising discussion they had shared since last night. But it was not to be.
“Yes, Mr. Grymes, we’re having a lovely time,” she said, greeting him with a gracious nod. “Aren’t we, Adam?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
Susanna almost winced at the sarcastic tone that had crept back into his voice. “And you, Mr. Grymes?” she queried, hoping the planter hadn’t also noticed.
“Oh, yes, well enough, considering I had to attend alone. My poor Charity and my two youngest sons are abed with summer colds, and Matthew and Celeste are still pining over your sudden marri—” He stopped, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “Forgive me. I meant no insult.”
“None taken,” Adam answered smoothly. “Our marriage was very sudden, and Camille and I feel badly that your son and daughter are suffering undue distress on our account. It was never our intention to mislead them, was it, my love?”
It was Susanna’s turn to reply tersely, resenting his pointed barb about her deception even as she remembered all too clearly how jealous Celeste’s flirtatious attentions toward him had made her. “Of course it wasn’t.”
“Please, don’t trouble yourselves. I’m sure they’ll both get over it soon enough,” Robert said in a rush, obviously eager to abandon the topic. “Young hearts mend quickly. Mine was broken a time or two before my beloved Charity
consented to become my blushing bride.”
“Mine as well,” Adam commented dryly.
As Susanna glanced sharply at him, wondering with resentful curiosity who he had known before her who could have possibly broken his hate-filled heart, Robert replied, “There, you see? Happens to the best of us.” He chortled, shrugging his rounded shoulders. “Well, I’m off to the game room again. There’s a lively round of dice in progress, and so far Dominick Spencer holds the lead in winnings. Amazing thing. He usually has such rotten luck.”
Susanna felt Adam’s grip tighten painfully on her arm, which seemed to match her own sudden tension.
“Spencer is here?” he asked darkly.
“Yes, arrived about two hours ago, not long after myself. I believe he’s been in the game room ever since,” Robert replied. “Well, my congratulations on your marriage. I must say you two make a handsome couple. I had that same thought the first time I saw you together at the Yorktown docks, and even wondered then if there might be a chance you’d strike a fancy for each other…” He grinned broadly. “Seems my hunch proved right. I wish I had the same luck with the dice.”
“So Dominick is winning for once,” Adam said almost to himself as the jovial planter ambled away, greeting guests here and there. “Let him enjoy it while he can. Come Monday morning, he’ll find his luck has changed.”
“Monday?” Susanna asked, sensing from his dark, ominous expression that his moment of revenge was drawing near. Excitement swamped her. She had never imagined it would happen so soon!
Adam didn’t readily reply, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. When he finally spoke, it was not in answer to her astonished query but as if he was purposely avoiding the subject.
“You’re still flushed, Camille. Perhaps you would like some refreshment. I could use a brandy or two myself.”
“Yes, that would be nice,” Susanna murmured, wondering why he was gazing at her so suspiciously. Surely he didn’t think that if he revealed his plan to her, she would do something to jeopardize it. She had told him in her note the other day that she had no intention of thwarting his revenge. Why, oh, why couldn’t he trust her even in this?
As Adam looped his arm through hers, Susanna gazed longingly at the opened windows across the room, the French lace curtains stirred by a balmy breeze.
“Actually, Adam, would you mind if I waited for you over there rather than accompany you to the dining room? I’m sure it’s just as crowded by the refreshment table as it is in here. I feel so warm … though I’m sure I’ll feel better if I stand by a window for a few moments.”
“If you wish,” he agreed, concerned. “I won’t be gone long. Would you like some lemon punch or wine?”
“Punch sounds wonderful,” she murmured. Her gaze followed his broad back as he wound his way among the chattering guests to the door leading into the hall. She regretted that she hadn’t had a chance earlier to tell him how magnificent he looked tonight, too, in his royal-blue coat and matching breeches. Despite his slight limp, he appeared the most virile and physically powerful of any man there.
Susanna felt a sudden rush of desire, thinking ahead to a few hours from now when they would finally be alone in the guest room the Byrds had graciously offered them for the night. She couldn’t wait to unfasten the buttons on his silver brocade waistcoat and his white lawn shirt to reach the sensual wonder of his chest, where she would run her hands across those hard, sinewed muscles …
Her cheeks burning, she hurried to the window, eager for some fresh air. She actually felt light-headed from the room’s stuffiness, and after leaning against the windowsill for a moment and finding no immediate relief despite the light breeze, she decided to step outside into the garden rather than risk the embarrassment of fainting in front of everyone.
Willing herself not to panic, Susanna hurried into the central hall, and although she caught a glimpse of Adam tossing down a brandy as he waited his turn at the punch bowl in the opposite dining room, she feared stopping for even a moment to tell him where she was going. Making her way quickly to the mansion’s back entrance, she almost stumbled outside, her hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart as she dragged in gasps of the much cooler night air.
“Are you feeling ill, Camille?”
She froze at the sound of Dominick’s voice, his tall, spare form materializing eerily out of the darkness.
“No, I’m fine,” she stammered, thinking with alarm that she should return immediately to the house. Yet she still felt so dizzy, she feared she might faint in the hall.
Perhaps a few moments more would make her feel better she decided. She would stay right here by the door. Since there were other guests walking through the darkened gardens, Dominick wouldn’t dare to accost her … would he?
“You don’t look fine to me,” he disagreed, stamping out the cheroot he had been smoking. He moved toward her abruptly and took her arm. “Your face is red. I think a walk in the garden might help to clear your head. The house is very warm tonight. Does your husband” —his tone grew harsh— “know you’re out here?”
Flustered by his insistent grip on her arm, Susanna blurted without thinking, “No,” then, realizing her foolish blunder, she hastily added, “I mean, he’s fetching me some lemon punch. I’m sure he’ll return shortly.”
“Then walk with me, Camille, if only for a few moments. You’ll feel much better by the time he joins you.”
Before she could refuse, Dominick practically pulled her along with him, directing her away from the lighted safety of the house and toward the now-menacing garden.
“I’m elated that we’ve found this occasion to talk,” he said, holding her uncomfortably close to his side. “When I arrived, I glanced briefly into the reception room and spied you among the guests, but I didn’t think … things being as they are, of course … that we’d find any opportunity to be alone.”
“Yes … uh, Mr. Grymes mentioned you were in the game room,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. The cooler air was gradually reviving her wits, and she quickly determined to deal with this unnerving situation as calmly and rationally as possible. “He said you were having some good fortune with the dice.”
“I was,” he said tersely, his eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight, “but fortune is fickle, I have found. I decided to soothe my loss with some fresh air, and I’m very glad I did.”
Offering no reply, Susanna swallowed against the nervous tightness in her throat.
Although she was trying to keep a firm grip on her whirling emotions, the farther they walked from the house the more apprehensive she became, her imagination running away with her. Her mouth going as dry as cotton, she remembered all the horrible stories Adam had told her about Dominick’s perverted passion for cruelty, and how sick she had felt upon seeing Adam’s ravaged back and what remained of his foot. Dear God, was this monster going to do something terrible to her as well?
She couldn’t have been more relieved when Dominick suddenly stopped with her almost in the center of the vast garden which stretched all the way to the blackened waters of the James. Could she hope that he wasn’t planning to drown her for snubbing him on the day of their betrothal? She sharply inhaled when he faced her, knowing she was trembling and unable to stop.
“Words can’t express, my dear, how bitterly disappointed I am that you’re not wearing my wedding ring on your finger,” he said, lightly caressing her upper arms. Susanna felt the raw tension in his touch, which made her think he might want to strangle her instead. “I’ve never known a worse moment than when you informed me that Adam Thornton had become your husband. To choose my former servant over me … you can imagine my humiliation.”
“I—I told you I was sorry, Dominick,” she said, chilled by his strange monotone, which was far more unsettling than harsh anger. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. When I came to Raven’s Point that day, I was convinced that Adam held no affection for me and that I would be wasting my time to wait for him to change his mi
nd. I had fully expected to marry you—” and how much she owed Adam for saving her from this beast! she thought fleetingly— “but when Adam heard the rumor of our betrothal and then declared his love for me, and me loving him all the while—”
“Spare me an account of your misguided feelings for that scum,” Dominick snapped, his grip tightening as his facade of gentility shattered. “You should have been my bride, Camille Cary! My wife! Our fortunes should have been joined, not … not squandered on some lower-class trash. What could have possessed you to do such a thing? Your poor father must be writhing in his grave at the misfortune you have brought upon what should have been mine!”
“You’re hurting me!” Susanna said hotly, her sudden rage that he would say such awful things about Adam, and even dare to mention Camille’s father when he had been the foul murderer to send the man to his grave, completely overwhelming her fear. “I have apologized to you twice, Dominick. What more can I do? Now release me this instant! My head is much clearer, thank you, and I would like to return to my husband.”
“Forgive me, my dear,” Dominick said, loosening his grip, although he still held her arms. He took a deep breath, as if trying to regain his composure, and lowered his voice further. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just that I’ve been a broken man since your sudden marriage. I’m in love with you, Camille.”
You’re not in love with me, you disgusting bastard! Susanna thought furiously, sickened by his touch. All you wanted was the Cary fortune. No doubt you would have cast me into an early grave without a qualm, either!
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