Chapter 8
Adam hastily tied the white linen cravat at his throat, cursing himself again because he hadn’t arranged with Ertha for a servant to come to his office at two o’clock and wake him.
He had been so exhausted, he hadn’t been thinking clearly when he’d left the house to look for Camille.
All he had wanted to do was find her quickly, give her the news, and then get some rest. Well, he had found her easily enough, but he still couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep right in front of her, as he vaguely remembered doing.
And not before frightening her, which he hadn’t meant to do either.
It seemed the whole blasted week had gone like that.
First he had become angry at her when she had discovered that his bedroom was just down the hall from her own; he had unfairly criticized her about the Cary graveyard; and he had almost ravaged her at the pond.
Then he had shocked her virginal sensibilities that morning by undressing while she was in the room, and now this, sleeping right through dinner.
Damn if he wasn’t frustrating his own plan by his careless actions!
“Tonight’s going to be different,” Adam vowed under his breath, glancing at the grandfather clock’s ornate face, which read twenty minutes past six. His eagerness mounting, he pulled on a tailored forest-green coat. He wouldn’t let anything spoil the evening, least of all his own behavior.
This would be their last night alone before the Tidewater gentry swarmed down upon them, and he wanted it to be special. He wanted to charm her, to woo her, to make her laugh and reveal more about herself.
He wanted to make sure that if she harbored any doubts or insecurities about his courting of her, these feelings would be gone by the time they said good night.
It was important that she know how much he wanted her, how much her father had wanted them to be together, and for him to hear from her lips again that she welcomed his courtship.
Especially since tomorrow would bring to Briarwood every fortune hunter in the region, each one anxious to meet Camille. His beautiful, shy Camille.
Irritation seized him just thinking about how she would have to endure her guest’s fawning attentions for the entire weekend.
Tidewater plantations were so far apart that people living more than ten miles away usually stayed overnight.
Every bed would be filled, including his own.
Ertha had asked him to sleep in his office, and she had been so worried about having enough room for everybody that he had grudgingly agreed.
Shoving his unpleasant thoughts from his mind, Adam took a last bite of the rich venison stew Prue had sent up for him, and then, after a draught of wine, he headed for the door.
He felt like a new man after his bath, a shave, and a hot meal, and he had dressed carefully for this evening.
He wanted to show Camille that he could hold his own against any wealthy gentleman.
At least he could say he had earned the money to pay for the clothes on his back. To him, that made all the difference.
“Have you seen Miss Cary?” Adam queried the chambermaid who was hurrying toward the dining room with her arms full of freshly ironed table linens. Growing annoyed that the house was still such a bustle of activity, he hoped that he and Camille would be able to find some privacy tonight.
“No, sir, Mr. Thornton. I’ve just come from the laundry.”
“Damn,” he muttered to himself as the maid hustled away. He was so anxious to find Camille, to be with her, and he couldn’t help thinking that such urgency was wholly unlike him.
Funny that he should feel this way about any woman.
He never had before. It wasn’t as if he loved her, though he did feel some affection melded with an extreme protectiveness toward the woman who would soon become his wife.
She was so endearing, so enticingly innocent, and God knew he desired her—had from the first moment he had seen her at the Yorktown dock.
The episode at the pond had only whetted his appetite for more such embraces, and especially for the day when she would share his bed.
Struck by fierce longing, Adam began searching the house, first the drawing room and then the library, but they were empty.
The music room and game room were occupied by maids doing some last-minute dusting, and he knew Camille wouldn’t still be across the hall in the dining room.
Dinner had been over almost three hours ago.
He was about to head for the garden when he caught a whiff of lavender scent wafting from the ballroom.
Smiling triumphantly, he opened the door and peered inside.
Adam exhaled slowly, enchanted by the sight of Camille slowly swirling round and round at the far end of the ballroom, her voluminous apricot silk gown picking up the last golden rays of sunlight flooding through the tall arched windows.
She looked so lovely with her eyes closed, her head tilted becomingly as she softly hummed an unfamiliar melody—slightly off pitch, he thought, charmed all the more—her honey-blonde curls cascading down her back like a glistening waterfall, her gown rustling and swaying.
For long, long moments he could only stare at her, entranced.
Yet finally his overwhelming desire to be close to her, to touch even just her hand, overcame him, and he slipped into the room.
So his sweet, romantic innocent secretly liked to dance, he mused, marveling at the fluid grace of her movements as he edged closer. That surprised him, considering that she had reputedly avoided balls, but perhaps she had simply disliked the crush of people and commotion that typified such events.
She stopped twirling, her slender back to him, and rather awkwardly attempted some dance steps.
It was plain that she didn’t know what to do, which also surprised him.
From what he had heard about Lady Redmayne, he found it difficult to imagine that the domineering baroness would have allowed Camille to forgo her dancing lessons.
Then again, maybe she just wasn’t very good at dancing.
He wasn’t the best dancer in the Tidewater, but he had attended enough balls to know the steps.
He would have to teach her a few things before the ball; Grymes had probably hired musicians.
He didn’t want her to be embarrassed by her lack of proficiency, or see her hurt by callous tittering behind raised fans.
“Could I be of some assistance?” he asked softly, feeling his breath jam in his chest as she swirled to face him. Though he had spoken with her that morning, he had been so exhausted he felt now as if he was seeing her for the first time in days. God, but she was beautiful!
“What…how long have you…?” Susanna’s voice trailed off as she gaped at him, stunned by his unexpected presence. She immediately fought to regain her composure while her thoughts raced wildly.
He had seen her dancing. Oh, bloody hell, she could just imagine what he must be thinking. How was she going to explain herself this time?
“You’ve revealed a little secret of yours, my love.
One doesn’t necessarily have to like balls to enjoy dancing.
” He bowed gallantly, offering his hand.
“Yet from watching you, and I mean this as no insult, it appears that you need a little practice. Any lack of ability can certainly be amended by one’s desire to learn. ”
Overwhelmed with relief, Susanna knew she couldn’t have explained herself any better than Adam just had. For once she was glad that he assumed to know so much about her, the overconfident blackguard!
If she had hoped by some miracle to learn how to dance before tomorrow, having never been allowed any lessons when she was a waiting-maid other than the few steps Camille had taught her, then she had just found such a miracle in Adam Thornton.
Now she wouldn’t have to decline demurely when she was asked to dance!
“What would you like to practice first? Some steps from a country dance or a minuet?” he asked.
“A minuet, please,” she said with a grateful smile as she took his hand.
She shivered at the warmth of his palm, and as he led her to the middle of the ballroom, he gently caressed her fingers with his thumb, a most disconcerting sensation.
Trying to distract herself from what he was doing, she observed lightly, “I suppose it will be difficult since we have no music.”
“No trouble at all.” In a rich baritone he began to hum several measures of a minuet, then he stopped, smiling roguishly. “Music, my love. Now, since I’m sure you already know the basic steps—”
“Could we review them?” Susanna blurted, immediately glancing down at the parquet floor, fearing she had given herself away. “It’s been so long…since my last lesson, I mean. And considering I never was any good…”
“Nonsense, Camille,” Adam objected, lifting her chin to stare deeply into her eyes.
“You’ve a natural grace that any woman would wish to possess.
I promise you’ll be the envy of any Tidewater belle who sees you dance tomorrow night.
” He stroked her cheek lightly, as if to reassure her.
“Come now. Let’s begin. First, place your hand on top of mine, like so, and remember the steps are small… ”
Susanna listened carefully to his instructions, though her body was alive with a bewildering excitement. She couldn’t tell if it was because she was finally learning to dance or because of his closeness, a troubling possibility she didn’t even want to consider.
As they began to move in stately three-four time through the elegant figures of the minuet, Adam’s voice astounding her with its deep richness, she wondered if any of the young men who would be coming to the ball were as strikingly handsome.
She had to admit Adam looked dashing this evening in his dark-green coat and brocade vest, and capable of taking any woman’s breath away.