Defiant Impostor (48 page)

"Corliss, what are you talking about?"
Susanna asked, confused. "Hasn't Adam left yet for Williamsburg?"

The maid lowered her hand slowly. "Uh, no, but the
carriage is already out front. I 'spect he'll be leaving soon, though I can't
rightly say for sure . . ." She opened the door. "I'll go fetch that
hot water now."

"Wait a minute, Corliss, you said he had a
visitor. My husband didn't tell me he was seeing anyone this morning. Surely
this must be unexpected. Who is it?"

"Master Thornton asked me not to say anything to
you, Mistress Camille. He said it would only worry you, and what with you
needing your rest—"

"Corliss, I demand that you tell me," Susanna
said sharply, struck by a chilling intuition. Why would Adam have said that
unless . . . unless . . . "Who's down there with him?"

Sighing as if realizing there was no way to get out of
it, the maid blurted in a rush, "That planter you were thinking of marrying.
Mr. Spencer."

Stunned, Susanna's mind sped wildly.

Why had Dominick come here and why had Adam allowed him
into the house? He had told her that until Dominick was in prison, he wasn't
going to take any chances. But they were downstairs in the library, alone. That
was taking a chance, wasn't it? She couldn't think of a worse one.

Suddenly a darker concern pressed in upon her,
strangling her breath and making her heart pound.

Unless Adam had wanted Dominick to meet him here . . .
unless he planned to do something rash . . . take justice into his own hands.
He had sworn to her that one day he would have his vengeance, hadn't he? Was
challenging Dominick to a duel what he had meant? Had Adam perhaps lured that
monster here by sending a reply that he would meet all of his demands? Dear
God, no, this couldn't be happening! He could be seriously injured, or . . .

"How long has Mr. Spencer been here?" Susanna
demanded, tossing her plate onto the tray with a crash and vaulting so abruptly
from the bed that she staggered dizzily, a sharp pain shooting through her
head. Not allowing herself to even consider the grimmer prospect that Adam
might be killed, she ran to the wardrobe. "How long, Corliss?"

"Only since I was about to bring your tray
upstairs . . . no more than a few minutes ago. What are you doing, Mistress
Camille? You should be in bed!"

Susanna flung open the doors and grabbed the first gown
she touched, dreading that at any moment she might hear the sound of pistols
firing from the back lawn. "Quick, help me dress! I have to get
downstairs!"

"But Mistress Camille—"

"No questions, Corliss! Please! Just help
me!"

***

"You bastard! So this meeting was nothing but a
trick," Dominick said through clenched teeth, his eyes bloodshot with
fury.

"One you brought upon yourself." Swept by
grim elation that his nemesis had played so easily into his hands, Adam kept
his pistol trained squarely on Dominick's heaving chest. "Fool! You let
your selfish greed overpower your reason. You thought you knew me so well,
thought I would do anything to keep Briarwood for myself, even if that meant
paying you blackmail for the rest of my fife. But you were wrong, and now
you're going to pay for your reckless miscalculation. Start moving to the door!
My carriage is waiting to take us to Williamsburg."

"You're the fool, Adam Thornton!" Dominick
spat, remaining right where he was. "Surely you realize the magistrate
will throw both you and your London slut Susanna Guthrie in prison for your
charade—"

"Call her that again, Spencer, and my finger just
might slip on this trigger." Adam was sickened that Spencer would even say
her name. "True, the court might do that, but I doubt it. I imagine the
magistrate will simply be glad to have this matter cleared up and Briarwood
returned to the proper heir's hands. There can be some reward in honesty."

"Honesty?" Dominick scoffed, his face livid.
"Petty revenge is driving you. Don't you see, man? We could all profit
from our arrangement, there's certainly enough Cary wealth to go around, but
you're going to throw everything away just so you can see me suffer!"

"Exactly, so save your deal-making for the
court," Adam countered bitterly. "Though I seriously doubt they'll
listen to any scheme you propose. No, I fully expect that they're going to lock
you inside a cell and toss away the key while your estate is sold bit by bit to
satisfy your anxious creditors. I only wish you were going to find a noose
lowered around your neck, not only for Keefer Dunn's murder earlier this
morning, scum that he was, and one to which you so callously admitted, but
James Cary's as well. Why don't you admit you killed him, too, and clean the
slate?"

"That's one satisfaction you'll never have,"
Dominick said, his hand moving suddenly to the sword hilt protruding from the vent
in his coat.

"Draw it even an inch, and you die," Adam
warned, pointing the pistol at Dominick's forehead. "And don't think I
wouldn't shoot you with the greatest relish. Ease your hand away . . . that's
it, and walk very slowly to the door. Once we're outside, my coachman Elias
will have the pleasure of binding your wrists so you won't be causing me any
more such trouble. But for now, just keep walk—"

Adam was startled into shocked silence when the door
suddenly burst open, and he watched in disbelief as Susanna rushed into the
room.

"Adam, please stop! You can't do this!"

"Dammit, Susanna, get out of here!" He lunged
to thrust her from the room, but his twisted ankle prevented him from moving
quickly enough. Dominick reached her first and with a great heave, pushed her
into Adam. They both toppled to the floor, Adam landing hard on his back and
Susanna sprawling on top of him, the pistol knocked from his hand. It slid
across the carpet and came to rest under a chair, well out of his reach.

"I'll teach you to threaten me!" Dominick
raged, drawing his sword and advancing upon them. "I see this as a clear
case of self-defense, and so will the court. Now, I have only to kill you and
then I'll marry the bitch myself?"

"Roll out of the way, Susanna! Move!" Adam
cried, hurling her with all his might off his body one way and then wrenching a
side table down on top of himself to use as a shield just as Dominick struck
the first blow.

Sent tumbling across the floor, the room spinning
crazily around her until she pitched into the desk, Susanna lay dazed while the
sounds of servants yelling in the hall, vehement curses, and splintering wood
rang around her. Gasping for breath, her entire body aching, she managed to
roll onto her side. Her eyes widened in stark horror at the sight of Dominick
hacking wildly at what little remained of the tabletop which Adam, pinned to
the floor by the crazed fury of his attacker's onslaught, held in front of him.

"No! Stop it!" she screamed, hauling herself
to her feet and running at Dominick, who paused only long enough to fling her
away from him.

She fell on all fours, tears stinging her eyes, but she
wiped them away when she spied the pistol only a few feet from her. As she
clawed for it, her only thought was to get the weapon back to Adam before it
was too late. Then she heard him yell out in pain at the same moment that her
hand closed around the engraved butt, and she twisted to find Dominick's
bloodied sword coming down for a final blow.

"Damn you, Dominick! No!" A deafening report
echoed around her, her hand vibrated and acrid powder smoke burned her eyes
just as Elias rushed into the room and lunged at Dominick, who, clutching his
shoulder, crumpled to his knees and collapsed unconscious onto Adam.

"Get him off! Get him off!" she cried,
dropping the pistol to scramble on hands and bruised knees to Adam's side. As
the huge black man lifted Dominick bodily and threw him against the wall, she
saw that Adam had been slashed diagonally across the chest. Bright red blood
seeped from the wound visible through the torn edges of his clothing.

"No, God, no," she moaned, ripping away his
waistcoat and shirt to expose the eight-inch gash. Quickly she tore off a wide
piece of her linen skirt to staunch the flow of blood.

"It's all right, love," she heard him say
hoarsely, and was astonished that he was speaking at all. He tried to smile at
her, grimacing instead. "I don't think . . . he cut me very deep."

"Oh, Adam," she whispered, her heart aching.
"You told me you were going to Williamsburg—"

"I was, Susanna, but with Dominick. I wanted to
see the bastard's face when he realized that he'd lost . . . I wanted to take
him with me to court so we would face the magistrate together . . ."

As he groaned raggedly and then fell silent, his head
lolling back on the floor, Susanna realized with heightened fear that he had
lost consciousness. Seized by sheer panic that he might die, she pressed harder
upon the wound, which wouldn't stop bleeding.

"Let me help, Mistress Camille. I want to
help," came Corliss's teary voice beside her while Elias's deep baritone
made her jump.

"Mr. Spencer's out cold, Mistress Camille. He
won't be getting up and going nowhere, but I'll call for some men to come in
and watch him just the same. Then I'm going to ride like the devil to Yorktown
and fetch the physician."

"Yes, go! Go as quickly as you can, Elias!"
she pleaded, caressing Adam's pale cheek with trembling, bloodstained fingers
while Corliss applied her wadded apron to Adam's chest. "I'm so sorry, my
love . . ." She choked, overwhelmed with inexpressible regret as she
glanced back to where he had been wounded. "So sorry for causing this
terrible thing to happen. I shouldn't have run into the room like I did, but I
was so frightened for you—"

"Susanna," broke in Ertha's shaky yet urgent
voice next to her ear. "There's a lady just arrived, and she's asking for
Camille. I'll stay here with Master Thornton . . . his wound looks bad, but
he's as strong as they come. He'll pull through this well enough." Ertha
tugged upon her arm. "Did you hear me, Susanna? I think you'd best go out
and greet her before she comes in here. I have a feeling it's important—"

"Who's Susanna?" Corliss exclaimed in
confusion. "Lordy, Ertha, don't give out on us, too! You're talking to
Mistress Camille!"

"No, I want to stay here," Susanna insisted,
ignoring her maid's outburst and wondering how the housekeeper could dare ask
her to leave Adam's side at a time like this. "I have to stay with
him—"

"Will someone kindly tell me what is going on . .
. Good heavens, Susanna Guthrie, is that you? I should have known you'd be in
the center of this melee!"

Her heart seeming to stop, Susanna incredulously lifted
her eyes to Lady Redmayne's indignant gaze.

"Well, young woman, what do you have to say to
explain this horrible mess? And where's Camille? Where's her husband, Adam
Thornton? I've never been so relieved as when I heard of their marriage from
the constable in Yorktown—then I come here to find their household in a total
uproar! Why, it looks as if I've stumbled onto a battlefield! Now I want an
explanation, and I want it this very instant!"

Her whole world crumbling around her, Susanna could
only murmur numbly, "Oh bloody, bloody hell . . ."

Chapter 28

"I still can't believe Lady Redmayne is here at Briarwood,"
Susanna murmured to Adam, who half-reclined beside her on the bed, pillows
propped behind him and the covers drawn to his waist, a thick white bandage
encircling his bare chest. She nestled closer against his comforting warmth,
her cheek resting against his broad shoulder. "That she came all this way
on the strength of a letter she received only a few weeks after Camille and I
left England, and from a woman she didn't even know . . . Cleo, no less!"

"I believe it, knowing how much Cleo hated Dominick,"
Adam replied, drawing her closer, his arm securely around her waist. "She
finally found a way to pay him back for selling off her children. I can imagine
the baroness's reaction when she read Cleo's charge that he had murdered James
Cary to clear the way so he could marry Camille and save himself from
bankruptcy. I'm not surprised Lady Redmayne threw aside her prejudices and
booked passage on the next ship bound for Virginia so she might prevent such a
marriage. You told me she dearly loved her grandniece."

"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.