Chapter 4 #3
“What in bloody blazes…?” she breathed to herself.
She stared in stunned confusion at a room that appeared not only occupied, but also in a state of wild disarray. The huge four-poster bed was unmade, the pillows scattered, and the rumpled sheets strewn with clothes, while a pair of dusty jackboots lay nearby on the floor—
Jackboots! And that was a shirt and a pair of breeches tossed upon the bed, not a gown and lace undergarments. Why, this must be a man’s room…unless she had stumbled upon the site of a carnal tryst and the lover had fled without his clothing.
No, that was ridiculous, Susanna thought as she moved still further into the room.
Her gaze skipped from an upended tricorn hat and a leather belt lying atop a richly upholstered chair to a massive wardrobe, its doors half-open.
Even from where she stood, she could see full-sleeved white lawn shirts, dark riding clothes, and even a fine forest-green coat and gold brocade waistcoat hanging inside.
This was a man’s room. But whose? Was there an overnight guest visiting Briarwood, someone Ertha had failed to tell her about in the commotion of her arrival?
“I hope you can forgive the mess. I left in quite a hurry this morning to meet the Charming Nancy, and it appears the servants neglected to straighten my room in all the excitement.”
Susanna spun, her heart hammering in her throat. She gaped at Adam, who stood leaning against the doorjamb. He was smiling that same self-assured smile, his arms crossed casually over his chest.
“Y-your room?” she stammered in disbelief, her thoughts racing. Who had ever heard of such a thing? A hired man living under the master’s roof? The mistress’s roof? Her roof?
“Yes. My room,” he stated with emphasis, his smile fading into a look of irritation and his eyes growing hard.
“It’s been mine since I became the plantation manager three years ago.
A quaint custom in the Tidewater, and obviously one you’re unfamiliar with.
If there’s a spare bedroom in a planter’s house, it is often given to either the tutor or the manager, both highly esteemed positions on a plantation.
Since there are no children here, and thus no tutor, I was given the honor. ”
“Oh…” Susanna barely managed to say, shocked by such an arrangement. She could just hear Lady Redmayne’s snort of disapproval!
Her place had always been in the servants’ wing—except for that one night in London when she had slept in that lovely feather bed—although Camille had often begged her aunt to allow Susanna to move into the smaller bedroom next to her own.
Lady Redmayne would hear none of it. Although she knew they were best friends, the baroness had insisted that there remain a firm distinction between mistress and waiting-maid.
“I also eat my meals at the planter’s table and drink his wine,” Adam continued tightly. “Another fine custom. And if you’re a crop master, the rewards are even greater.”
“Crop master?” she asked. She shifted nervously as he walked toward her. So he would be dining with her, just as he had said. A hired man!
“Yes, crop master,” he repeated, his tone growing angrier, his eyes demanding that she look at him.
“A title bestowed upon only a few men, usually planters. I acquired it by learning as much as I could about tobacco. It’s the kind of knowledge that impresses the Tidewater gentry.
Earns a self-made man their respect.” He came even closer, his gaze not wavering from her face.
“That title has given me something else, Miss Cary, something which you’ve always possessed.
The gentry see me as one of their own now.
I can go to their house parties, ride in their horse races, and even court their women—”
“Ex-excuse me, Mr. Thornton,” Susanna cut him off, giving him a wide berth as she hurried to the door.
Her words emerged in a distracted torrent.
“I didn’t mean to pry. I didn’t know this was your room.
I thought I would just look at all the bedrooms since I haven’t seen them before…
I mean for so long…” She tore her gaze from him and didn’t look back, acutely aware that he was watching her, and growing all the more flushed because of it.
She hastened down the hall to her room, and leaned breathlessly against the door when she was inside.
She had a madman sleeping down the hall from her!
she thought wildly. Either that or Virginia was a very strange place indeed.
She had never heard of such customs! And why had he become so angry?
How direct and rude he had been, considering she was now his employer.
She couldn’t make sense of all he had said, and right now, she didn’t even want to try.
All she wanted was to lie down and give her whirling thoughts a rest!
Adam shut the door, cursing under his breath.
Now you’ve done it, he berated himself, tearing off his coat and tossing it on the chair.
If this was his idea of wooing Camille gently, then he was failing miserably, and it was his own damn fault.
He had clearly upset her, but then he had meant to.
If only she hadn’t stared at him so incredulously when he had said this was his room.
He could just imagine what she had been thinking.
A hired man sleeping only a few doors away from her?
Well, he wasn’t just any hired man! And the sooner she knew about his intention to marry her and that her father had approved of the match, the better.
Yet somehow he would have to compensate for the less than fine impression he had just given of himself.
Growing more disgusted with his behavior, Adam leaned against the window, blind to the bustle of activity outside.
Dammit, he shouldn’t have been so hard on her.
Of course she wouldn’t know of the Tidewater’s customs, being a gently bred young woman raised in England.
The social distinctions so rigid there were more blurred in Virginia, and more easily scaled.
How could he have expected her to know that?
Maybe she had simply been surprised, not insulted or disturbed, to discover that this was his room.
He had to admit, the arrangement was unusual if he looked at it from her perspective.
Patience, man, you’ll make amends, Adam told himself as he changed into rougher clothes and his work-worn jackboots for the long, dusty ride ahead of him. Too bad it couldn’t be over dinner.
He had been looking forward to spending more time with her, especially after what he had seen of her so far.
He suspected that passion lurked beneath her shy exterior, although she kept it well-hidden.
Yet in the carriage when he had leaned against her soft, lush body, there had been no mistaking the heightened color of her cheeks and the rapid pulse at the base of her lovely throat.
Her reaction to his nearness had pleased and excited him; he could tell she was easily aroused by a man’s touch, knowledge which he would use to his advantage.
He had been sorely tempted to kiss her then and there, to see if he could unleash more of that hidden passion, but he had restrained himself, thinking it would be too much too soon for his timid heiress.
He would observe the proper niceties first and tell her of his plans for them, then kiss her.
But now that moment would have to wait a while longer, Adam thought with regret.
There was trouble in the outlying tobacco fields because of a newly hired overseer who had exceeded his bounds with the slaves.
Josiah Skinner, one of his head overseers, had just informed him in the stable that the man had been using the lash even though he knew no whips were allowed on Cary land.
If the accusation was true, the bastard would be thrown off the plantation.
Adam would not tolerate any deviation from his orders.
As he stepped into the hallway, he glanced at Camille’s door, wondering if he should say anything to her now. Then, remembering how weary she had looked, he decided against it. He would let her rest. He wanted her to be fresh and receptive when she heard what he had to say.