Defiant Impostor (7 page)

When she received no ready reply, Susanna peeked
through her lashes to find the planter beaming from ear to ear and Adam
glowering, his jaw taut. She knew he couldn't argue with such a statement. Of
course she would want to meet her neighbors, whether she was shy or not.

She was eager to fulfill her promise to Camille by
launching herself into the Tidewater's social whirl so she might find the right
husband, but she would have to move slowly if she was to maintain her
deception. A reputedly timid young woman would not become a popular belle
overnight, yet a welcome ball would be a good way to start and it could lead to
other outings. She had always dreamed of attending such an event, but as a
lady's maid, it had been out of the question. Now she would have her chance.

Before long she ought to feel right at home among the
gentry and be able to drop this unpleasant part of her masquerade. She had
barely arrived, yet already acting so unlike herself was beginning to chafe, no
thanks to the overbearing Adam Thornton, who seemed determined to go beyond the
bounds of social propriety with his unseemly possessiveness. She looked forward
to giving him a good dressing-down, but for now, she must exercise patience,
not one of her stronger traits. Heaven give her the strength to curb her tongue
and her temper!

"Splendid, Miss Cary!" Robert exclaimed, finding
his voice at last. "Absolutely splendid!" He waved his hand with a
wide flourish toward the gentlemen still gathered near the gangplank. "If
I may, I shall tell the others. What a wonderful day it will be!"

Susanna gave a slight nod, and the planter hurried
away.

"House party, my foot," Adam grumbled under
his breath. "You're going to have a blasted mob on your hands. Every
single male in the county will be there."

"Did you say something, Mr. Thornton?" she
asked innocently, though she had heard him well enough.

She didn't understand his obvious resentment. Why
should it matter to him if she met some eligible young gentlemen? Surely he
knew James Cary had summoned Camille home to find an appropriate husband.

"I said, if you would point out your trunks, Miss
Cary, I'll have them loaded onto the carriage and we'll be on our way,"
Adam replied, unsettled by how quickly his plans had gone awry.

He had wanted to have Camille all to himself for the
next few weeks, which would have given him plenty of time to court her without
any outside interruptions. Now that was not to be. Leave it to that fool Robert
Grymes to pressure the girl into something she didn't really want to do. He
would just have to inform her of his intention to marry her a little sooner
than he had planned, and before any other bastards had a chance to meet her.

Maybe he would tell her tonight and be done with it,
Adam thought. If he worked fast enough, he might even announce the betrothal at
this welcome ball. By God, he could imagine the look on Grymes's face at the
news. He could just as easily imagine the look on Dominick Spencer's face if
the planter had the audacity to show up at Briarwood. Adam would sell his soul
for such a moment.

"My trunks are over there, Mr. Thornton."

Adam signaled to Elias, who was still waiting patiently
by the carriage. The huge black man rushed forward and lifted one after the
other of her three trunks, carrying them back to the coach as if they contained
nothing but feathers. After the luggage was secured, he re-tethered Adam's
mount to the vehicle and called, "All's ready, Mr. Thornton!"

"Have you no maid?" Adam queried, it suddenly
dawning on him that of course Camille wouldn't have traveled such a distance
alone. "I recall Mr. Cary saying you had a devoted waiting-maid about your
age named Susanna Guthrie. Where is she?"

Susanna felt the color draining from her face. She had
never thought to hear her own name mentioned in Virginia. It was an eerie
sensation, especially since she knew no one would ever call her that again.

"She died a little over a week ago. The fever . .
." It was simply too painful to say more. Susanna fell silent, her gaze
fixed on the river.

"I'm very sorry, Camille. Come, I'll take you
home."

A few moments ago, Susanna might have taken offense
that he called her by her first name. Now, it didn't seem to matter.

Turning away from the
Charming Nancy
, she allowed him to lead her to the carriage, which
was drawn by two magnificent dappled grays. He lifted her inside, his strong,
tanned hands easily encircling her waist, and took a place beside her on the
plush wine-colored velvet seat. She didn't look back as the coach jolted into
motion and rumbled away from the bustling dock. She never wanted to see that
cursed ship again.

Chapter 4

Susanna said little during their journey to Briarwood,
which seemed to make no difference to Adam.

When he had ascertained by her soft-spoken
"No" that she remembered nothing about her place of birth—which was
entirely believable since Camille had been only three years old when she was
sent away to England—he kept up a steady and interesting commentary about
Yorktown and the rest of the colony, until, after a while, she felt her
melancholy begin to lift. The countryside was beautiful, although lacking the
lush rolling hills of the Cotswolds, and it felt so good to be on dry land
again. Only at one point did she venture to ask a question, her avid curiosity
getting the better of her.

"I heard there are still Indians in Virginia. Do
you think we might see any?"

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat. "Not unless
you travel far to the west and into the wilderness. The Indians retreated from
this region years ago when the white men became too plentiful." His gaze
traveled slowly over her features, lingering overlong upon her lips, then he
looked directly into her eyes, his expression sobering. "Don't worry, Miss
Cary. If any wild savages chance to cross our path, have no fear that I will
protect you."

Feeling her cheeks grow warm at the strange intensity
of his gaze, Susanna was tempted to retort that she wasn't worried or
frightened. She would have liked to see some Indians, but since that would
hardly be something Camille would have said, she directed her attention out the
window, becoming increasingly exasperated with herself.

Dear Lord, what was it about this man that so easily
pricked her temper? It didn't make sense. She had known him for perhaps two
hours! Maybe it was because he seemed so sure of himself, and so completely
sure of her. Or perhaps it was his condescending attitude that most irked her;
that, and the tone that crept into his voice sometimes, as if he was speaking
to a child instead of a young woman.

Susanna hazarded a glance at him to find that he was
still looking at her. He smiled, his teeth a startling white against his tanned
face. As she quickly turned back to the window, flustered anew, she decided
that he must spend a great deal of time out-of-doors to have skin so darkened
by the sun. She imagined his chest and back must be bronzed as well, in keeping
with his job as a plantation manager. She had no doubt that he stripped off his
shirt to work as any hired man might in the summer heat. She could almost
picture him . . . his golden-brown skin glistening with sweat, the muscles
across his shoulders and upper back bulging powerfully as he lifted the ax or
hoisted a heavy barrel—

Susanna gasped as Adam suddenly leaned against her, his
arm grazing her breasts as he pointed out the window, his hard muscled thigh
pushing against her leg.

"See those trees?"

"Y-yes."

"They form the southern boundary of Briarwood.
Welcome home, Miss Cary."

Flushed with embarrassment and not daring to breathe or
move, she kept her gaze trained upon the towering oak trees, but she scarcely
saw them. Her senses were blinded to everything except the heat of Adam's body
pressed against her and the compelling scent of him, clean yet slightly musky.

She had been so close to a man only once before, a few
weeks before leaving Fairford, when a handsome village swain who had taken a
fancy to her had cornered her in the Redmayne coach house. He had kissed her
full on the mouth, his passionate ardor nearly dragging the breath from her
body until she had stamped upon his foot and he had abruptly released her. Then
she had slapped his face and run away. But some wild part of herself had wanted
to feel his hands roaming over her body and his hard desire pressing through
her skirt.

Susanna rolled her eyes, dismayed by her wanton
thoughts.

This wasn't the same thing! Adam was this close to her
merely because he was pointing out something of interest to her. The boundary
of Briarwood, for God's sake! She could hardly grind her heel into his foot or
slap him for that. His nearness was entirely innocent . . . or was it? Oh, when
would this carriage ride be over?

Susanna couldn't relax even when Adam abruptly drew
back and settled against the seat once more. Nor did she look at him; she was
worried about how she might react if that same insufferably confident smile was
upon his face. She kept her gaze fixed out the window, and was more than a bit
relieved when the coach turned onto a wide, poplar-lined drive. As a
magnificent brick mansion came into view, flanked by outbuildings half-hidden
by flowering shrubs and trees, she was swept by nervous excitement, the
previous moment's incident temporarily forgotten. She could not believe she was
finally here.

Briarwood.

It was grander than she would ever have imagined, the
formal approach a beautifully landscaped prelude to the ivy-clad, two-story
house that lay beyond. This place was even finer than the Redmayne country
estate, which now held a solid second place in her estimation. Briarwood was
truly the loveliest spot on earth.

As the carriage pulled around a large circle edged in
boxwood that terminated the drive, Susanna saw the front door open, and a host
of black servants hurried down the broad stone steps to a wide walkway, where
they formed a well-ordered line. Several footmen dressed in splendid
blue-and-gold livery rushed forward to meet the coach. It seemed everything was
happening so fast, the door opening and Adam climbing down so that he might
assist her. Then she was walking with him toward the servants who, from their
warm, expectant smiles, seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

It was an unsettling moment. She, who had done the
waiting upon, was now the mistress of a large household, with servants to see
to her every need. What was she to say to them? How should she act? Would they
somehow sense that she was actually one of them?

"Your house servants," Adam explained in a
low voice, his hand firmly—and impertinently, she decided—upon her elbow as he
steered her toward them. "You probably know from your father that some of
them are slaves while others have earned their freedom, and have chosen to
remain here as paid help. The same can be said for the rest of the workers at
Briarwood. "

Actually, Susanna had heard of this unusual arrangement
from Camille, who had been proud of her father's lenient and fair-minded
attitude toward his slaves. She, however, didn't like the idea of anyone owning
another human being; it wasn't right. Yet when she had expressed her opinion,
Camille had said it was simply the way things were done in Virginia. Briarwood
would never have achieved its greatness without the several hundred slaves who
toiled in the tobacco fields. At least they were luckier than most to have
James Cary as their owner.

But now you are their owner, Susanna thought, the reality
of the situation not sitting well with her. Yet there didn't seem to be
anything she could do about it, except to continue on as James Cary had done,
allowing slaves to earn their freedom and then giving them the choice to stay
on at the plantation or to set out on their own.

As Adam continued speaking, Susanna noticed that his
voice had grown strangely harsh. Why, she couldn't imagine.

"There are also some indentured servants here from
Britain who are primarily craftsmen, but their numbers are few. Your father
ceased to buy indentures several years ago, at my urging." He said no more
upon the subject, but began to introduce her to the servants, the first a very
stout woman with an enormous bosom. "This is Prue. She's the head cook
here at Briarwood, and an excellent one, I might add."

"Hello," Susanna said softly, offering a
small smile.

"We're so glad you're here, Miss Camille,"
the woman said with obvious sincerity. "The house has been so empty since
your papa . . ." She couldn't finish, her large dark eyes misting.
"Well, will you look at me? A happy occasion and all."

Susanna's heart went out to her. It was clear James
Cary had been very well liked, and was still sorely missed.

"I'm happy to be here," she said rather
shyly, attempting her best imitation of Camille. "Thank you for your kind
welcome, Prue."

The woman's friendly smile returned and she drew
herself up, her emotions once again under control. "I'm preparing a nice
welcome dinner for you, Miss Camille. Master Cary always liked to dine straight
up at three o'clock, but if you'd like to eat a bit earlier or later—"

"Three o'clock will be fine. It is not my
intention to change the way my father did things at Briarwood."

Her answer seemed to please the woman, who beamed
broadly. "Good enough, Miss Camille. Good enough."

Susanna moved quickly along the line as Adam made more
introductions, so many that the names of kitchen maids, chambermaids, laundry
and dairy maids, the valet, a steward who kept the plantation's books, and
numerous others were soon swimming in her mind. The last person she came to was
an older black woman with short, graying hair beneath her starched cap. Her
deeply lined face was still striking, although she appeared to be perhaps sixty
years old or more. She regarded Susanna with a kind, hopeful expression.