Defiant Impostor

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Defiant Impostor Page 37

by Miriam Minger


  “She did,” Susanna answered softly, recalling how the baroness’s stern facade had crumbled so piteously when she had learned that Camille had died from fever.

  It had been long hours now since Susanna had composed herself enough to tell Lady Redmayne the full story of everything that had happened since she and Camille had sailed from Bristol. Twilight had fallen outside upon a day that had begun cloudy and wet and had ended with a glorious sunset. As far as Susanna knew, the baroness was still sitting in the drawing room, alone with her grief as she had tearfully requested. Even Mary Sayers, Lady Redmayne’s longtime waiting-maid who had accompanied her on the voyage to Virginia, had been asked to leave.

  “It’s a good thing Cleo mentioned Dominick’s private diary in her letter and where it was hidden in his library,” Adam continued, his voice deep and husky. “The court would never have taken a slave’s word for the murder if the constable hadn’t found that journal and its gloating entry about James’s death.”

  “Yes, and I’m glad that when he and his men came here to arrest Dominick, the constable made a point to show Lady Redmayne that her accusation was well-founded.” Susanna heaved a small sigh, glancing up at him. “She started crying again when she saw the diary. I think she loved Mr. Cary, too, despite the resentment she’d held against him for so long. She’s totally alone now—the last of the Cary family.”

  A pensive silence rose between them, broken only when Adam spoke again.

  “If Dominick hadn’t been here at Briarwood this morning while the constable went directly to search his house upon the baroness’s insistence, he might have destroyed the evidence before they ever found it. Now he’s going to hang, and he can only blame himself for ever allowing Cleo to learn to read and write. His twisted love for her proved his undoing.”

  Susanna shivered, wondering what was going to be her and Adam’s fate. They still planned on admitting everything to the magistrate and taking whatever punishment the court, and Lady Redmayne, now deemed warranted. But what that might be, they still had no clue.

  Other than her explanation for why she had come to Virginia, the baroness had said little to Susanna while she recounted her tale, instead staring out the window with tears streaming down her lined face. Yet Susanna had taken some comfort after she had finished when she had sensed no anger or resentment from the older woman, receiving instead a few pointed questions that had caught her completely off guard.

  “What are your feelings for Adam Thornton?” Lady Redmayne had queried, her tear-dimmed hazel eyes intent on Susanna’s face.

  “I love him,” she had said honestly, her own eyes growing wet as she thought of him receiving care upstairs from the physician who had pronounced his wound serious but not life-threatening. “If he had died today …” Unable to go on, she had stared down at her folded hands.

  “And what will the two of you do now?”

  “Marry again, this time using my own name,” she had answered. She had purposely skipped over any talk of possible punishment, fearing even to raise the subject. “Then we’ll start a new life somewhere, maybe on Virginia’s frontier. There’s land to be had in the west, good land waiting to be settled. All that really matters to me is that Adam and I are together.”

  To her surprise, the baroness had brusquely dismissed her then, giving her no idea what she planned to do with them.

  Suddenly growing apprehensive, Susanna threw her arm tightly around Adam’s lean waist, wondering with dread if tomorrow they might find themselves separated by prison walls.

  “Adam,” she murmured, her voice catching as she hugged him fiercely, “I’m so sorry about what happened this morning. So terribly sorry. I should have trusted you. I thought … I thought you were going to challenge Dominick—”

  “It doesn’t matter, my love,” he broke in gently, kissing her forehead. “All that matters is that you brought Dominick down and saved my life. But now we’re starting over, remember? From this moment on, all of that is behind us. Let’s think only of the future. Our future.”

  “Oh, I want that so much,” she said. “You know, Lady Redmayne said the strangest thing when she first walked into the library this morning, something about being so relieved when she heard from the constable about your marriage to Camille—”

  “I think she probably meant she was simply glad to discover there had been no wedding between her grandniece and Dominick,” Adam interrupted her, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

  “I don’t know,” Susanna persisted, a wild hope flaring in her heart that it might mean something more. “Lady Redmayne knew from Mr. Cary’s letters to Camille that you were his plantation manager, Adam. By rights, she should have been enraged by such a match, considering the rules she had droned into Camille’s head about marrying into wealth and position. Yet she didn’t seem in the least dismayed when she said your name.”

  “Susanna, I don’t think it’s wise that we read anything into Lady Redmayne’s words. From what I’ve heard about her bluntness, I’m sure she’ll clearly state her position toward us when she’s ready. Other than that, we can only wait—”

  He stopped at the sudden knock on the door, a firm, no-nonsense rap. Susanna immediately rose from the bed and, casting a nervous glance at Adam, hurried across the candlelit room, taking only an instant to smooth her hair and secure her dressing gown more tightly around her before she opened the door.

  “Your ladyship,” she murmured, trembling with apprehension at the inscrutable expression on the baroness’s face. Almost forgetting herself, she dropped a quick curtsy. “Please … come in.”

  “Thank you, I will,” said the petite older woman. Her black gown rustled as she swept into the room, her posture as gracefully erect as ever despite her advancing age. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “Not at all, my lady. Adam and I were just talking …” Susanna’s voice trailed off as the baroness seemed not to have expected any objection to her presence, but moved directly to the bed.

  “I need a chair, Susanna.”

  She hastened to obey, her seven years as a lady’s maid coming to the fore. As she returned with the chair, she noticed Adam’s frown and imagined he didn’t like the sight of her waiting upon another person.

  As the elegant woman sat down and folded her hands primly in her lap, she added, “I believe some introductions are in order, Susanna.”

  “I’m Adam Thornton,” Adam spoke up before Susanna could reply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Redmayne. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

  Susanna winced, wishing she had instructed Adam on the proper way to address a baroness. But it was too late, and she doubted he would have listened anyway. He was a stubborn, proud man who demanded to be met on his own terms.

  “And I know a great deal about you as well,” Lady Redmayne countered cryptically, although her patrician features held no irritation. “I’m glad to see that you’re feeling much better than when I saw you last, being carried upstairs by that hulking black man.”

  “Elias.”

  “Yes, Elias. He seemed protective of you, quite loyal. It surprised me. I’d heard that these slaves usually despise their masters.”

  “Some do,” Adam answered frankly. “But I’ve found that treating others with respect usually begets the same, as James Cary also believed.”

  “Indeed.”

  Thinking that things weren’t exactly getting off to the best start and wishing Adam would soften his tone, Susanna moved to the bedside and took his hand, squeezing it gently in reproach. When he squeezed hers back, she felt some reassurance.

  “I’m truly sorry, Lady Redmayne, that you had to learn about your grandniece’s death in such an unexpected manner,” Adam said, obviously having taken Susanna’s cue to heart, for his voice was filled with sincere regret. “We had planned to write you a letter after meeting with the magistrate—”

  “Yes, it has been a day fraught with the most unsettling confessions,” the baroness broke in quietly, her eye
s suddenly glistening. Lowering her head for a moment, she cleared her throat delicately against the hoarseness that had crept into her voice, then she looked up, squaring her shoulders. “I have a confession to make myself.”

  Gripping Adam’s hand tightly, Susanna felt her nervousness mounting as Lady Redmayne withdrew a worn, folded piece of paper from a side pocket buried in the black satin material of her gown.

  “This letter was written to Camille by her father shortly before his death and arrived only days before she was due to leave Fairford. I deliberately kept it from her because it held sentiments I did not wish her to see.” The baroness leveled her gaze upon Adam. “It’s about you, Mr. Thornton, every single word.” Her ringed fingers were shaking as she handed him the letter. “You may read it later at your leisure, I’m giving it to you to keep, but for now I would prefer that you simply listen to what I have to say.”

  “As you wish,” Adam answered, glancing at Susanna as he released her hand and took the paper.

  “My nephew held a great fondness for you, Mr. Thornton, and it’s echoed in each line of that letter. He looked upon you as a son, and he wanted you and Camille to marry, believing you would do well by both her and Briarwood. And although I know now of the vengeful motive that had driven you to prove to James that you were worthy to wed his daughter, I am sure he wouldn’t have faulted you for it; he loved you that much. You’ll find that he states he had intended to share his feelings and hopes with Camille when she arrived in Virginia, but something compelled him to write to her instead. I can only imagine that he must have had some premonition …”

  As Lady Redmayne paused again to collect herself, Susanna’s thoughts skipped back to that balmy July afternoon when Adam had asked if he might court her. She hadn’t believed James Cary would have given a common hired man his blessing, but the planter had, and here finally was Adam’s proof.

  “That is why I couldn’t allow Camille to read the letter,” the baroness continued. “Despite my nephew’s wishes, I didn’t think you would make a suitable husband for her, Camille being an heiress—which I mean as no insult to you personally, Mr. Thornton—”

  “None taken,” he murmured.

  “Yes, well, to be blunt, I had my sights for her set much higher. I trusted that I had taught her well enough about the importance of choosing a proper husband, that once you made your marital intentions known to her, she would reject you outright.” Her eyes began to mist, her voice suddenly catching.

  “But I can’t tell you, Mr. Thornton, what James’s letter came to mean to me when I learned of his foul murder and that horrible man Dominick Spencer’s intentions toward my beloved Camille. It was the only thing during that endless ocean crossing that gave me any hope. I can’t even count how many times I reread that letter, especially the words about how stubborn you were, how hardworking and persevering, and I prayed day and night that you were using that same dogged persistence against any objections Camille might give you about your courtship of her. You can’t imagine my trepidation when I disembarked from that ship early this morning and went straight to the town constable’s house and rousted him from bed, only to hear that you had married my grandniece almost two weeks ago …”

  Susanna felt a terrible lump rising in her throat as Lady Redmayne’s teary gaze fell upon her. “I’m sorry it was me, your ladyship, truly I am. If I could have taken the fever from Camille and put it upon myself, I would have done it gladly. I didn’t want her to die …”

  “Heavens, dear child, I know that,” the baroness murmured, pulling a black handkerchief from her sleeve to dab at her eyes. “And I know how much Camille loved you, like a sister. You were the only one who could make her truly laugh, and every time I heard it, I thanked God you had stumbled across our path in London. I fear I was too hard on her, wishing she could shed her shyness and be more like you. I hope she knew that I only wanted the best for her—”

  “She did, my lady, she did,” Susanna interrupted fervently, grateful for the warmth and strength of Adam’s hand once again grasping her own.

  Lady Redmayne rose from the chair, her handkerchief now limp and sodden. “Forgive me. I didn’t come here to make such an emotional display, only to explain myself and tell you both that I have no intention of hauling you before any magistrate. As far as I’m concerned, this is a family matter, and I consider both of you my family now. You’re all that I have left connecting me to the ones I loved.”

  Her limbs suddenly gone weak with relief, Susanna sank down next to Adam, scarcely noticing that his arm had slipped around her waist.

  “I have only one question to ask you, Mr. Thornton,” the baroness added, drawing back her delicate shoulders as her expression regained a good measure of its sternness. “Do you love this young woman?”

  “I do,” Adam answered, his voice throbbing with intensity. “She’s everything to me. I need nothing else as long as she is by my side.”

  “Good. It is just as I expected. Tomorrow I shall journey into Williamsburg and visit the magistrate myself, where I will explain everything and then have documents drawn up to deed Briarwood over to you. James had hoped that someday you might have this plantation, knowing you would make it prosper, and so you shall. Then I plan to visit the parish church and see that the proper wedding banns are posted and the wedding license obtained. If Camille wanted you, Susanna, to carry on in her stead as the mistress of Briarwood, I can do no less than to honor her dying wish. She was right. No one deserves it more than you.”

  Completely stunned, Susanna looked at Adam, who appeared as astounded as she was.

  “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I must retire,” Lady Redmayne said, appearing suddenly very weary, although a faint smile curved her lips. “I imagine it’s going to be a very hectic few weeks, planning the wedding and all the parties that must go with it, and seeing a bit of this colony of which James was so proud. I must admit, I never expected to find Virginia so agreeable, despite the unwelcome downpour that greeted Mary and me as soon as we came off the ship. Quite civilized, too. Well, good night.”

  As the baroness began to walk to the door, Susanna quickly left Adam’s side to catch up with her, saying, “I’ll show you to your room, my lady.” She was surprised when Lady Redmayne waved her back to the bed.

  “There’s no need to accompany me, Susanna, I can find my own way down the hall,” she insisted. “Go care for your handsome betrothed and look to yourself, for that matter. From what I’ve heard from Ertha, whom I took the liberty of reassuring I might add, and that charming young Corliss, you two have had quite an interesting past few days. Lovers’ quarrels, spills from balconies, sword fights …” She shook her gray head. “You should both be abed, resting!”

  “All—all right, your ladyship,” Susanna murmured, offering another curtsy.

  “That’s another thing, my dear,” Lady Redmayne added kindly as she opened the door. “From now on, please call me Aunt Melicent, and the same goes for you, Adam. Remember, I said we’re family now. That means no more curtsying, too. Sleep well.”

  Then the baroness was gone, leaving them alone, yet Susanna stood rooted to the floor. She could hardly believe everything that had just happened … their good fortune was simply unheard of. Yet it had happened! She didn’t have to pinch herself to know that it was true. She and Adam could stay at Briarwood! It was going to be their home!

  “Come here, my love,” she heard Adam say behind her, his beloved voice only heightening her incredible joy. She spun to find him staring at her hungrily, his eyes warm and glittering in the candlelight. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

  She rushed toward him but stopped just out of his arm’s reach, for his expression had suddenly become most serious, taking her by surprise. “What is it, Adam? Is something wrong?”

  “Only if I don’t hear the right answer from your lips. Come closer so I can touch you.”

  She did, his hand sliding around her waist, then he gently pulled her down to sit facing him
on the bed. “Answer to what, Adam?”

  Reaching up to tenderly cradle her face with one hand, he stared deeply into her eyes. “Will you marry me, Susanna Jane Guthrie?”

  As her heart swelled with infinite love for this man, her first impulse was to shout out “Yes!” and hear it ring all around them. But instead she could not resist murmuring playfully, wanting to draw out this rapturous moment, “Only on two conditions.”

  He smiled roguishly and adopted her teasing tone. “Name them.”

  “I cannot simply be a lady of leisure, Adam. Needlework and playing the pianoforte aren’t enough for me. I want to work for my keep. Make myself useful.”

  “Done.”

  “As easily as that?” His very nearness was sending tremors of excitement racing through her.

  “How can I refuse you anything, my love?” He caressed her silken cheek with his thumb, rejoicing in his heart that this beautiful, enchanting woman had come into his life. “And your second condition?”

  She smiled wantonly, leaning forward to brush the lightest yet most seductive kiss upon his lips. “I want a proper courting before we wed, Adam … the kind any woman would dream about.”

  “I’ll show you the stuff of which a woman’s dreams are made,” he said huskily, pulling her on top of him so that she straddled him. Ignoring the twinge of pain his movement had cost him and thinking that to have her astride him so appealingly was well worth any discomfort, he traced her full, inviting lips with his fingertips. Then slowly, he drew her face toward him until their mouths were almost touching. “But first, Susanna Jane, you must give me your answer.”

  “Yes, Adam Thornton, I will marry you,” she whispered, pressing her soft lips to his. In that brilliant, shining moment, he had never felt more loved, or more whole.

 

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