Defiant Impostor (37 page)

"I'll miss you." It was out before she could
stop it, but she didn't regret saying the words, despite the shocked expression
on Adam's face. His surprise quickly vanished, yet she felt a subdued sense of
satisfaction that she could cut through his guard, however fleetingly.

As a tense silence settled between them, Adam shifted
away from her and grabbed his riding coat from the grass beside him, as if
preparing to leave. An intricately carved object slid halfway out of one deep
pocket and Susanna noted with heart-stopping alarm that it was the ivory butt
of a pistol.

"You're not going to meet Dominick in a duel, are
you, Adam?" she blurted, glancing at him in horror.

"The bastard doesn't deserve such a swift
revenge," he replied, shoving the pistol back into his coat. "This is
for my own protection."

"Protection?" she queried, her heart pounding
faster as stark fear for him gripped her. "From what?"

"I don't plan on meeting the miserable fate that
James Cary suffered at Dominick's hands. If he comes looking for me with such
an intent, he'll receive a bullet right through his rotting heart."

Susanna was aghast, but then, why should she be surprised?
Dominick had murdered Camille's father, or so Adam claimed. If he had killed
once, he could kill again. "Oh, Adam, this is terrible. Do you think he
will . . . come here looking for you?"

He glanced at her sharply, and his tone was grim as he
replied, "It's possible. I'm preventing him from possessing the one thing
he needs to save himself from financial ruin, just as James did months ago.
Your wealth would have funded his gambling for years to come. I would say, in
fact, that it's likely he'll try to kill me if he can find a way to make it
look like another accident."

"How—how did he kill Mr. Cary?"

"Shot him point-blank while he was out hunting
alone, then slumped his body over a fieldstone wall and situated his fired
musket so that it looked as if James had accidentally shot himself in the gut
while trying to climb over."

"How horrible."

"It wasn't a pretty sight." Adam swallowed
hard, his voice growing heavy with contempt. "Dominick's no fool. Although
I told the constable about his argument with James the day before the death,
and although Josiah vouched for me, Dominick escaped any suspicion. A
prostitute in West Point swore that he had spent the entire afternoon with her.
He knew better than to put Cleo up to such a ruse, even if he could have threatened
her into lying for him. No one takes the word of a black slave over the word of
a white man, especially one who sits on the governor's council."

"But, Adam, are you absolutely sure that Dominick
murdered Mr. Cary?" she asked, knowing her question would upset him but
needing to ask it just the same. She had wondered about it since he had first
revealed his suspicion, but hadn't dared to ask him until now. "If no one
saw it happen . . . and there was no proof—"

"You're right, I have no proof, but you forget how
well I know the man," he said, his eyes ablaze. "I know that Dominick
killed James as surely as I carry this pistol. You can damned well believe what
you want." He snorted in disgust. "Woman, you simply amaze me. After
everything I told you last week—"

"I never said I didn't believe you, Adam. I
do."

He didn't seem to hear her, and rose in one swift
movement to his feet. Sweeping up his coat, he dug in the opposite pocket and
withdrew a small wrapped package. He tossed it into the grass at her feet.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Something you'll need for the Byrds' party. You
can't go with that piece of metal wrapped around your finger.

Susanna did her best to ignore his bitterly sarcastic
tone as she unwrapped the package, revealing a red velvet box, and then opened
the lid. She gasped softly. She had never seen such an exquisite ring, the
filigreed gold and square-cut emerald at its center reflecting brilliantly in
the sun.

"Oh, Adam, it's beautiful." With trembling fingers,
she removed the twisted bed-curtain ring and replaced it with her new wedding
band. It fits perfectly. Look!"

But he had moved to the sloping edge of the pond, his
back to her. Hurt filled her that he would so pointedly refuse to share in her
happiness, and sudden tears stung her eyes. She forced them back, reminding
herself miserably that only time could change this impasse between them. Time
and her continued patience.

After setting the curtain ring carefully in the box, as
she wanted to keep the iron strip for sentimental reasons, she shut the lid and
began to gather together the refuse from their picnic. She sensed he was in no
mood either to eat or swim . . .

"I don't want you to help Prue in the kitchen ever
again."

"What?" she asked, raising her head from her
task to find him glaring at her.

"You are now a planter's wife, and planters' wives
manage their households from a proper distance, which means they do not
participate in their servants' work. Do you understand?"

Her temper flaring, Susanna nonetheless tried to keep
it under control. "What do you propose I do with my time, then? I don't
know how to do needlepoint, and I'm all thumbs with a needle and thread anyway.
I'm not at all musical—"

"You can learn, can't you? You've grasped well enough
how to act the part of a lady, wielding a fan and performing the niceties of
proper society. The music room is full of fine instruments gathering dust. I'll
hire you a music teacher, and I'll order enough stitchery materials from
Yorktown to keep you busy for months."

"But I don't like to sew, Adam. I hate it, in
fact. To me, it's a waste of time when I could be making myself useful around
the house—"

"I don't care what you like or don't like,"
he broke in with harsh vehemence, approaching to stand only a few feet from
her. "Planters' wives work embroidery, play the harpsichord, entertain
guests, discreetly direct the house servants' activities, and care for their
husbands' and children's needs. Do I make myself clear?"

Susanna stared at him sullenly. Her anger at his
insensitivity quickly overcame her excited thoughts of the family they might
have together.

"Good God, woman, if you continue baking bread and
toiling in the kitchen, Ertha will suspect all the more that you are not her
precious Camille!"

"Oh, Adam!" Susanna blurted without thinking,
completely exasperated with him. "That doesn't matter anymore! She already
knows."

It was too late to clap a hand over her mouth. As
Adam's expression of utter incredulity quickly became one of darkening rage, she
inwardly cursed her heedless tongue. She had planned to tell Adam what she had
done sometime during the next few days, but she had hoped to introduce the
topic gently, to prepare him first. So much for that.

"What do you mean, she already knows?"

"I—I told her the truth . . . yesterday morning
after you left for Williamsburg. She'd been staring at me so strangely all
week, watching my every move, and I just couldn't bear it anymore—"

"You couldn't bear it anymore?" he shouted,
grabbing her shoulders and hauling her to her feet. "Heaven help you,
woman, do you know what you've done?"

"Of course I do!" Susanna retorted as his
fingers bit cruelly into her flesh. Her words tumbled from her mouth in a
nervous flood. "I explained everything to her and, though she was
understandably shaken to hear about Camille's death she was relieved to know
the truth. Poor Ertha had thought she might be going crazy since she saw that
portrait. Anyway, she swore not to say a word to anyone. She knows that if
Briarwood were ever sold, those servants who aren't free would find themselves
on the auction block. They're like her family, Adam, you know that. She
promised not to do anything to jeopardize them, and I believe her. Besides,
Briarwood is the only home she's ever known. She would have no place to
go—"

"I'll tell you where you're going to go," he
muttered ominously, sweeping her suddenly into his arms and carrying her to her
horse, where he hoisted her unceremoniously into the saddle. "You're going
to leave right now and ride straight for home before I do something I might
regret!" Flinging the reins into her hands, he ordered harshly, "Get
out of here!"

When she only stared at him stupidly, too stunned to
speak, Adam slapped her mare's rump. "Go, damn you! Now!"

Susanna held on to the reins for dear life as her
startled mount shot out from beneath the willow tree into the full glare of the
afternoon sun.

She didn't look back. She kept her tear-blinded eyes
fixed straight ahead as she raced for home, her heart thundering as furiously
as her mare's flying hooves.

Chapter 21

"What are you doing, Corliss?" Susanna asked
her frowning waiting-maid, who had just entered the bedroom carrying a large
leather saddlebag and proceeded to Adam's wardrobe.

"Packing some clothes for your husband, Mistress
Camille. He said for me to tell you that he's leaving for Norfolk today instead
of tomorrow morning." The maid clucked her tongue in disapproval.
"You two must have had some lovers' quarrel. He's in a foul mood, to be
sure. He had me fetch Ertha to meet him in the library before he would let me
come upstairs, and he told me real angry-like to be quick about filling this
bag."

Not surprised by this news, Susanna rolled onto her
back on the bed and stared blindly at the canopy overhead.

Should she go to him and apologize? she wondered. Now
that she had had an hour or so to think about it, she supposed she couldn't
blame him for becoming so upset with her at the pond.

He probably thought his plan for revenge had been
ruined because of what she had done. But she wouldn't have said a thing to
Ertha if she believed there was the slightest chance the housekeeper might have
reacted to the truth any differently than she had. Surely he could see that!
She didn't want to end up in prison any more than he wanted to lose Briarwood
and his chance to get even with Dominick.

"Ertha sure looked nervous going in to talk to
him, though I can't imagine why," Corliss added, folding several shirts
and stuffing them into the saddlebag. "She's been a real puzzle since a
few days before you and Master Thornton got married. Sometimes snapping our
heads off, other times saying nothing all day. Then all of a sudden yesterday
she finally seemed her old self again." The young woman sighed with
exasperation. "If she starts grumbling at us again when she gets through
talking with Master Thornton . . ."

"I'm sure Ertha will be fine," Susanna
reassured her, sitting up. She imagined Adam was just confirming everything she
had told him, especially the part about the housekeeper swearing not to tell a
soul about what she now knew.

"Did my husband say anything to you about coming
upstairs to say good-bye?" she asked.

"Not a word, and maybe you don't want him
to," the maid replied, fastening the buckle on the bulging saddlebag.
"He looks mighty angry. We don't see Master Thornton like that too often,
but when we do, we stay clear out of his way." She hurried to the door.
"I better get down there, Mistress Camille, before he starts hollering for
me. I've never heard him raise his voice but right now, I wouldn't be surprised
if he did."

"Wait a minute, Corliss," Susanna requested,
rising from the bed and rushing over to the writing desk. Deciding to heed her
maid's warning and unwilling to face Adam's wrath again, she quickly jotted a
note of apology, then, after sprinkling it with a few drops of her jasmine
perfume, she handed it to the maid. "Please give this to my husband. No,
better yet . . ."

Thinking that in his sour mood Adam might not read her
note, Susanna undid the buckle and shoved it into the saddlebag.

"Good idea," Corliss said with a small smile,
as if guessing her thoughts. "Master Thornton will find it in there
tonight when he stops along the way to Norfolk, and after a long hard ride to
clear his head, he'll be ready to read whatever you've got to say." Her
frown reappeared. "You did say something nice in that letter, didn't
you?"

"Yes," Susanna replied, smiling when her maid
sighed with relief.

"That's good. I hope you two aren't going to have
fights like this very often, Mistress Camille. What with Ertha acting so crazy
these past days, and now you and the master mad at each other . . . or from
what I see, him being more mad than you, I feel like I'm walking on eggshells
around this place."

"Corliss!"

They both jumped at the deep, ringing sound of Adam's
voice echoing from downstairs.

"See what I mean?" the maid said as she fled
out the door and down the corridor, calling, "I'm coming, Master
Thornton!"

Susanna shut the door and leaned upon it, taking heart
in the thought that Adam hadn't sounded angry so much as impatient. She waited
almost breathlessly, wondering if he might yet come to say good-bye, but when
several long moments passed and she still didn't hear his familiar footsteps,
she imagined he had already left the house.

Disappointed, she walked out onto the balcony and
leaned against the curved wooden railing. Looking out over the beautiful sunlit
garden, she thought of the words she had hastily written to him.

I'm truly sorry I upset you, Adam. If I
thought Ertha wouldn't understand, I never would have told her. It's certainly
not my intention to thwart your plans. I believe Dominick should pay dearly for
what he's done to you. Yours, Camille.

Sighing softly, she hoped her apology would placate
him, at least until she could tell him in person. When he returned from
Norfolk, she planned to offer him a special apology he wouldn't forget.