Chapter 3
Susanna had never felt so nervous. The words were barely off her tongue when she was besieged again by doubts, but she forced them down as she stared at the confidently smiling stranger who was standing so close to her.
He was very handsome in a rough, rugged sort of way, and one of the few wigless men on the dock other than the crew members and workers unloading the ship.
His thick brown hair, a dark mahogany which shone with reddish highlights in the sunshine, was rather long and tied in a queue at his nape, and he had the most piercing brown eyes she had ever seen.
In fact, he was studying her most intently, Susanna realized in agitation, which made her feel even more uncomfortable.
She took a step backward—certainly it wasn’t proper manners for two complete strangers to stand so close together, even though this man seemed to know who she was—and one of her heels dropped into a large knothole between two planks.
“Oh! Oh, dear!”
Tottering, she gasped in surprise when he caught her arm and easily prevented her from falling; she blushed at the iron strength in his grip.
When he merely smiled again, she could only wonder at the impression she was making.
He seemed undisturbed by her obvious discomfiture, almost as if he expected it.
“Easy, Miss Cary. You’ll get your land legs back, but it might take a while. You’ve been at sea a long time. Now, if you would lean on my shoulder for a moment…”
Susanna swallowed as she obliged him, trying hard not to dwell on the play of his sinewy muscles beneath her fingertips. Surely their position must appear undignified! She watched wide-eyed as the man sat on his haunches and, cradling her small foot in his hand, gently released her heel.
“There now, step down.”
Carefully regaining her full balance, she met his eyes when he rose beside her once more.
He was much taller than she was, but he stood no more than an inch or two above six feet.
Fleetingly she marveled that he seemed so much bigger, but perhaps that was because his shoulders and chest were so broad, his physique so powerful beneath his black riding coat and white lawn shirt.
Blushing anew, she looked away, thinking how unsure of herself she must seem. Then again, Camille would have acted nervous and flustered, and she was supposed to be her dear Camille, after all.
James Cary had probably told everyone that his daughter was extremely shy, which might explain this man’s reaction to her.
Susanna certainly didn’t want anyone to think her behavior was out of keeping with James’s description.
Although being timid and docile were two traits wholly foreign to her nature, she would simply have to feign them until she was more comfortable with her new life.
Then, as she learned how to act properly in Virginia society, she could gradually lose her veneer of shyness like a butterfly shedding its cocoon and become more like her true self.
Get hold of yourself, Susanna Jane, and consider it a game, she chided herself. Or pretend you’re an actress in a play. Just remember, everything you do is for Camille’s sake.
“I hope you didn’t turn your ankle. Does it hurt?”
Susanna shook her head and offered her attractive rescuer a faint smile. Feeling calmer and in more control of her wits, she suddenly saw him in a new light and felt a twinge of tense excitement.
Might this man be a wealthy tobacco planter?
From the fine cut of his coat and breeches, lacking adornment though they did, and his black leather jackboots, an expensive pair from the looks of them, it was possible.
And he knew her. Had he been a good friend of James Cary’s, perhaps a prominent, unmarried friend?
Susanna demurely lowered her lashes as she had seen Camille do countless times, and, ready to begin the game, murmured, “You were very kind to help me, Mr.—”
“Thornton. Adam Thornton. Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner, Miss Cary.”
Of course. Adam Thornton, she thought, intensely disappointed, her earlier hopes fading.
Not a rich planter, prominent personage, or even a true gentleman—but a hired man.
Mr. Cary’s plantation manager. It made sense that he had been the one to greet the Charming Nancy.
And to think she had been so eager to meet him, might even have welcomed his attentions at one time. But that was before—
“Perhaps your father mentioned me in his letters. I’ve been the plantation manager at Briarwood for several years now, and I’ve certainly heard a great deal about you. I’m glad that we’ve finally had the chance to meet.”
Disconcerted by his deep, husky voice, Susanna noticed that he was still holding her arm, his fingers exerting a gentle pressure that felt almost like a caress. Dizzying warmth rippled through her, but she quickly attributed it to the hot late-morning sun.
Surely it was most unseemly for him to be touching her in such a possessive manner! She was no longer in any danger of falling. And why was he still looking at her so intently?
“Yes, yes, I know of you,” she said softly, doing her best to stifle her irritation at his boldness and to remind herself that she must act like Camille.
“Papa…” How strange it sounded to call the late Mr. Cary “Papa.” “My father did mention you in his letters, Mr. Thornton. Many times, actually. He spoke highly of everything you’ve done for Briarwood. ”
And how often Camille—intent upon playing the matchmaker—had speculated about this Adam Thornton as a potential husband for her, Susanna thought, recalling Camille’s prediction for her future in the Virginia colony.
“Mr. Thornton must be a good man, Susanna, or Papa wouldn’t have employed him for so long.
And you’ve always said you want an honest, hardworking man with promising prospects for a husband.
I know what we’ll do! After my wedding, we’ll plan one for you.
How about in the springtime? Oh, you’ll make the prettiest bride!
‘Mrs. Susanna Thornton’ has a lovely sound to it, don’t you agree? ”
But then, just before she had died, Camille had told her to marry wisely as she herself would have done, Susanna remembered with heartrending clarity.
Camille must have realized that Adam Thornton was no longer a proper match now that Susanna was to take her place in Virginia.
A hired man wasn’t good enough to marry an heiress. It was as simple as that.
“So this must be Miss Cary!” a loud voice boomed from across the dock, bringing Susanna’s attention back to the present.
As she watched a rotund gentleman approach them, she felt Adam’s grip tighten on her arm and draw her closer to his side.
She thought to protest this new and puzzling affront, but again she held her tongue. Camille would have borne it meekly.
“My dear girl, allow me to introduce myself,” the richly dressed gentleman enthused, bowing and taking her hand.
“My name is Robert Grymes. I was a good friend of your father’s.
” His friendly face clouded and he squeezed her fingers in sympathy.
“Such a tragic loss, James’s death. So unexpected.
My sincerest condolences to you, Miss Cary. ”
Susanna mustered a small smile. “Thank you.”
Robert Grymes cleared his throat and, releasing her hand, he clapped his soft palms together, his wide grin reappearing. Clearly his expression of grief was short-lived.
“I’m pleased to say that I’m a neighbor of yours, Miss Cary, though my plantation is downriver a good ways from Briarwood.
My wife Charity and I would be delighted if you’d come by for supper within the week and meet the rest of the family.
I’ve a daughter about your age, Celeste, and three sons, Tyler, Francis, and Matthew, the eld—”
“Miss Cary will probably need at least a week or more to recuperate from her voyage,” Adam interrupted coldly.
“If you recall, Grymes, she’s had a harrowing trip.
We’re fortunate that she was spared the fever” —his arresting eyes, flecked with shards of gold, flickered over her appraisingly— “and has arrived in such remarkably vibrant health.”
Susanna glanced at him in shock, hardly believing he would speak for her as if he had the right to. Who did he think he was, anyway?
“Oh, yes, of course,” Robert said, nodding his head so vigorously that the curls of his powdered wig bobbed.
“Forgive me, Miss Cary. It was not my intent to inconvenience you. Please come and visit us, but only when you’re rested enough to do so…
Oh, and don’t feel you must wait for a formal invitation.
We Virginians rarely use them. We pride ourselves upon our hospitality, a code of courtesy you might say, and welcome visitors whenever they chance by. ”
“Thank you, Mr. Grymes,” she murmured through clenched teeth, pointedly ignoring Adam’s hard look of disapproval.
But she said nothing more and did not commit herself to any visit, knowing Camille would have wished to stay at home.
She sensed the planter must have heard of her shyness, though, when instead of excusing himself, he persisted by trying another tack.
“Come to think of it, I have an even better idea, Miss Cary. Perhaps my family and I might take it upon ourselves to visit Briarwood. Such an arrangement would spare you from any unnecessary traveling. The summer is a rather tedious time for us planters since the tobo is ripening in the fields, which gives us some respite for amusement. Why, we could make a grand welcome ball of it, say, on Saturday which is almost a full week away, and invite some of your other neighbors, who I’m sure are eager to meet you.
I would think you’d be well-rested by then—”
“I have it upon excellent knowledge that Miss Cary is not one for social gatherings,” Adam interjected again, his tone even more rude. “She prefers more peaceful pastimes.”