Chapter 9 #2
Adam put his hand lightly beneath Celeste’s elbow, then wished he hadn’t when she smiled flirtatiously up at him through her long russet lashes.
As they strolled toward the garden, he knew they were turning some heads, which also annoyed him.
Damn if two people couldn’t be seen innocently together without starting up the rumor mill!
“The Carys have always had the loveliest garden,” Celeste commented, pausing to smell a scarlet rose.
Adam scanned the grounds as she bent her head. His heart raced as he spied Camille, seated by the river at the same point where he had first revealed his intention to marry her.
Was she sending him a private message? he wondered. That despite the many young men surrounding her, she was thinking of him? He would like to believe that was the case. He wished there was some way he could hurry Celeste, but she seemed determined to smell every flower along the path.
“Have you met Miss Cary?” he asked, hoping there was a remote chance she hadn’t. That would certainly make a good excuse for hastening her toward the river.
“Yes, when we arrived,” Celeste replied, smiling as she glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Lovely girl. A bit reserved, just like Papa told us she might be, but I’m sure that will change once she becomes better acquainted with everyone.
” She turned back to the roses, inhaling deeply.
“In fact, I think Camille and I might become good friends. We had a nice chat in the drawing room.”
“Really?” Adam queried, his casual tone belying his vexation that her assessment of Camille’s character matched her father’s.
Did they seriously believe a few outings would permanently alter Camille’s personality?
So the woman was shy! Why did everyone feel the need to change her?
He liked her exactly the way she was—well, he had to admit her coquettish behavior last night had captivated him.
But that was different. Of course she would feel free to behave like that around him.
She trusted him, and they were going to be married, for God’s sake.
“Yes, a lovely chat,” Celeste said, twirling the yellow rose she had just plucked as they proceeded down the path.
“I told her about all the exciting events coming up—Amy Johnson’s birthday picnic, dinner parties here and there, the horse races at the Tate plantation near Williamsburg, the Byrds’ annual summer ball at Westover near the end of the month.
Oh, so many more, and I insisted she must attend them all.
She balked a little, but when I said she could accompany me and my brothers, she agreed.
Such a silly goose! I think she imagined at first that she might have to go alone, which I suppose would be a daunting prospect for any newcomer. ”
If Adam had ever come close to strangling anyone, it was in that moment.
First Robert Grymes had coerced Camille into having this ball, and now his social butterfly of a daughter was demanding that she traipse all over the Tidewater with her.
He didn’t believe for an instant that Camille had agreed to such a proposition.
Knowing her as he did, he’d wager his last dollar that she had simply said she might go along even though she hadn’t really meant it.
That would have been the courteous thing to do, and from what he had seen, Camille was unfailingly polite.
“Matthew was elated when he heard the news, of course,” Celeste continued, oblivious to Adam’s growing anger.
“He’s smitten with her and actually begged her to call him by his first name, though he wouldn’t dare presume to address her as anything but Miss Cary, at least for now.
He’s very concerned with propriety, especially when it comes to courting a woman—”
“Courting?” Adam said abruptly.
“Why, yes,” she answered, pausing to study him. “It’s been common knowledge for months that Camille came home to Virginia to find herself a husband. The only question is when. Don’t tell me you didn’t know this, Adam.”
He was so tempted to tell her that he was already courting Camille, with the full expectation that they would marry, that he could barely choke down the words.
Silently cursing his agreement to keep their courtship secret, he said tightly, “James Cary informed me last autumn that he was sending for his daughter, and why.”
“Well then, why do you seem so surprised?” Celeste asked, giggling as she gestured to the animated group by the riverbank, which was made up of twice as many young men as women.
“Most of those gentlemen are interested in courting Camille, and the ones already spoken for probably wish they hadn’t been cornered before she arrived. ”
Adam’s gaze was focused not on the crowd but upon a wide-brimmed sky-blue hat and the beautiful face beneath it. It seemed as if she was looking at him across the garden, though he couldn’t be sure. Yet the thought that she might be made him ache to be near her.
“Matthew is going to have an uphill fight on his hands with so much competition. That’s why I decided to take it upon myself to help him out.
Perhaps her spending time with us will give him the edge he needs to win her.
She’s the prize catch of the Tidewater, you know.
” Celeste turned back to Adam, the rose falling still in her fingers.
Her eyes were as inquisitive as her expression was guarded.
“I don’t suppose you’ve considered courting her yourself, have you, Adam?
I know it’s presumptuous for me to ask, but there are those who would find such news… distressing.”
“Hasn’t crossed my mind,” he lied smoothly, a fierce protectiveness rising in him as he watched the rose begin to twirl again. He had not missed the dark innuendo in her voice, and had taken it as an immediate warning.
He sensed in Celeste a young woman who didn’t like to be crossed, one who could prove malicious if it so pleased her.
With Celeste’s sort around, Camille had every right to be concerned about her reputation.
He would have to curb his reckless impatience and wait for the day when she agreed they could announce their betrothal.
He would do anything to spare her the distress this pretty viper might cause her.
“I’m so glad to hear that,” Celeste practically purred, a well-practiced smile upon her heart-shaped face. “Then I won’t hesitate to invite you along on our outings. Perhaps as Matthew and Camille become better acquainted, we can, too.”
“I have no doubt we will,” Adam replied, imagining the tantrum this little tart would throw when she discovered that Camille had no intention of accompanying either her or her fat brother to social events around the Tidewater.
And he certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with Celeste.
Manipulative, calculating women disgusted him.
“Shall we join them and see how Matthew is coming along?” Celeste suggested, shading her eyes from the late-afternoon sun as she gazed toward the river. “I see he has lost his seat on the bench, and—oh, dear, he appears to be sulking. Perhaps he needs my assistance.”
“I’m sure your brother can manage quite well on his own,” Adam said, resisting the impulse to look again in Camille’s direction. “Let’s walk over this way.”
Celeste’s expression was one of complete acquiescence, though her eyes held triumph. “Why, of course, Adam. Anything you say.”
Taking her arm, he guided her purposely along a path that led away from the riverbank.
After not speaking to Camille since last night, he didn’t trust himself to be so near her and not reveal his true feelings.
Cunning women like Celeste had a gift for sniffing out such things, and right now, he didn’t need that added irritation.
It was enough that this day had already been full of them.
The spirited conversation around Susanna seemed to fade away as she watched Adam and Celeste Grymes turn their backs on the river and stroll arm in arm in the opposite direction.
Bastard! she seethed. He hadn’t said a word to her all day—not that she wanted him to—and now he was squiring one of the nicest girls she had met so far.
Did he think her so naive that she wouldn’t know exactly what he was doing?
He was nothing but a rogue and a rake! It was obvious that womanizing came to him as easily as breathing.
Since he was so certain he had her practically wedded and bedded, why not pursue another young innocent to pass the time?
Casting occasional glances in their direction, she had seen how deep in discussion they had been for the past ten minutes.
Talking about what? Probably he had grilled Celeste on her likes and dislikes, as he had done to her last night.
And what of that yellow rose he must have given that poor, unsuspecting girl?
How dare he pluck flowers from her garden—
“Miss Cary?”