Chapter 15
Impatiently watching the carriage come to a halt in front of him, Adam tried to tell himself that he wasn’t still angry, ever since an hour ago when he’d returned to the house and discovered that Camille had left early that morning.
But dammit, he was angry! She could have at least informed him yesterday evening of her plans.
He had become wracked by worry, too, especially when the sun had begun to set.
He had been on his way to the stable to get his horse when the coach had come into view.
“Why, hello, Mr. Thornton,” came a soft, familiar voice from the shadowy coach interior.
“Miss Cary,” he said, attempting unsuccessfully not to sound irritated. “How was Yorktown?” He swung open the door, his gaze devouring her. God, she was beautiful. It felt like a lifetime since he had last seen her.
“Oh, we had a lovely time,” she said lightly, accepting his outstretched hand as she stepped to the ground, her apricot silk gown billowing around her.
When she smiled at him in that sweet, secretive manner she had employed since the beginning of their courtship, he felt much of his anger fade.
He squeezed her fingers in warm welcome as she tossed over her shoulder, “Didn’t we, Corliss? ”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Thornton, we sure did,” the maid replied, although her subdued expression struck Adam as odd.
Usually so cheerful, Corliss seemed unwilling to meet his eyes as he helped her down from the carriage.
“I’ll go prepare a bath for you, Miss Camille.
” The maid hurried toward the house, leaving Adam to wonder.
“What’s wrong with Corliss? I’ve never seen her so quiet.”
“I imagine she’s just tired, like me. We’ve been on our feet all day…well, except for the ride to town and back.”
She glanced up at Elias, who to Adam also seemed strangely silent as he surveyed them from his high driver’s seat. Usually the man would have at least offered him a grin of hello. “Thank you for driving us, Elias.”
“My pleasure, Miss Camille.”
“Just a minute,” Adam said as the strapping coachman prepared to give the reins a yank and drive away. “Don’t you have any packages, Cam—Miss Cary?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t buy anything. Corliss and I just browsed through the shops while Elias waited with the carriage.”
“Just browsed? For six hours?”
“Why, yes. Shopping doesn’t necessarily mean you must buy something, Mr. Thornton,” she replied, her teasing tone chasing away the rest of his irritation.
As a chuckle welled deep in his throat, Adam glanced sympathetically at Elias.
No wonder the man was subdued after waiting all day for two women engaged in what to his mind must have been a total waste of time.
Waving the somber-faced coachman on his way, Adam was sorely tempted to take Camille’s arm as they walked to the house, but he suppressed the impulse.
He was afraid that if he so much as touched her, he would crush her in his embrace, no matter how many servants might be watching.
God help him, he couldn’t wait until Friday, when at least at Briarwood he would no longer have to hide his feelings for her!
“I missed you, my love,” he said instead, and was pleased when a pretty pink blush suffused her cheeks. “Terribly. Why didn’t you tell me last night that you might go into town today? I would have escorted you.”
“I…I didn’t want to bother you with my plans, Adam. I knew you had a lot of work to do, and I decided I would rather that you accompany me to the horse races tomorrow.”
He was startled because her expression had suddenly clouded. It almost appeared that her explanation had caused her some pain, though why that might be he couldn’t imagine.
“Is something wrong?” he inquired as they stepped into the hall, a footman closing the door behind them.
She gave him a small, reassuring smile. “No, I’m simply tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Then why don’t you go up and rest for a while?
” he suggested with a heightened sense of protectiveness.
He stopped with her at the foot of the stairs, repressing another powerful urge to sweep her into his arms. “I’ll have Prue hold our supper until a little later—say, half past eight.
I hope you haven’t forgotten that you promised we would dine together tonight. ”
“No, I haven’t forgotten.”
When she reached for the banister, Adam glanced behind him and, seeing that the footman had turned his back, he quickly brushed a kiss against her warm, petal-soft cheek.
“Adam!” she breathed in surprise, her foot freezing on the first step as her gaze darted beyond him to the front door.
He shrugged apologetically, his senses racing from the lush jasmine scent of her perfume, which reminded him all too potently of last night. He lowered his voice to a teasing whisper. “You had better go, my love, or I might be tempted to give you another.”
As her beautiful sea-green eyes widened, he could tell that she fully believed his playful threat. She gathered her skirts and, without even a backward glance, quickly ascended the stairs. Yet at the top, she threw him the slightest of smiles before disappearing down the hall.
Chuckling to himself and fingering the note in his pocket, which was to his delight signed Yours always, Camille, Adam waited until he heard her door close. It was amazing how relaxed he felt when only a short while ago he had been pacing the library in irrational anger, worry, and frustration.
“Love,” he said under his breath, shaking his head as he set out to look for Prue. It was heady, unpredictable stuff.
“Delicious supper, Prue,” Susanna said, laying down her napkin. She glanced self-consciously at Adam, who was leaning back in his chair and studying her in the candlelight, just as he had been doing since she had sat down with him at the table. “Didn’t you think so, Mr. Thornton?”
“Yes, excellent,” he replied, his eyes not leaving her face as he took a draught from his crystal goblet. “Thank you, Prue. I wouldn’t hesitate to say that yours is the best roast beef and gravy in the county.”
“Oh, go on, Mr. Thornton,” the stout cook demurred, although she beamed happily. Clearing the plates while a waiter poured more red wine into Susanna’s glass, she inquired, “Would you like some dessert, Miss Camille? I’ve got a nice berry cobbler warm from the oven…”
“No, thank you, Prue,” Susanna said, rising gracefully from the table.
“Supper was so good and filling I don’t think I could eat another bite.
” She looked at Adam, who appeared about to get up himself.
“Oh, there’s no hurry, Mr. Thornton. If you’d like some dessert, please stay and help yourself. I really should be getting upstairs—”
“Why so early, Miss Cary?” he queried softly, leaving his chair despite her suggestion.
“It’s only a little past nine. I know you have a very busy day planned tomorrow, but I would be honored if you could spare me another few moments of your time.
There’s something I’d like to show you in the library. ”
Realizing that Prue and the waiter were watching their exchange, Susanna used the most formal tone she could muster, although the teasing challenge in his eyes was making her feel flustered. “Very well, Mr. Thornton. A few minutes more. But then I really must retire.”
Smiling as he nodded gallantly, he took their wine goblets from the table and followed her from the dining room.
“You play a pretty game, my love,” he said in a hushed voice, which Susanna hoped the housemaid coming down the stairs didn’t hear.
Not answering him, she walked quickly down the central hall toward the library, her mind racing.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see his shadow, so broad and powerful, projected against the wall directly behind her own, which made her feel all the more uncomfortable.
She knew he had nothing to show her. It was just a ruse to get her alone.
Oh, why hadn’t she simply declined and gone to bed?
For that matter, why hadn’t she stayed in her room and not come down to supper at all, pleading fatigue?
He would have believed her. What had driven her to spend this last evening with him, when she knew he would probably be cursing her name this same time tomorrow?
What had compelled her to fulfill her promise to him when she knew what honoring it might cost her?
This evening had been sheer torture, the lies upon lies she was telling him becoming almost impossible to endure.
He had asked her endless questions about her day in Yorktown, forcing her to conjure up stories about shops she hadn’t visited, bolts of beautiful fabric she hadn’t admired, the seamstress with whom she hadn’t discussed sewing some new gowns, and the silversmith over whose jewelry and fine tableware she hadn’t oohed and aahed.
She had felt guilty and ill at ease from the moment she had discovered him waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, looking more devastatingly handsome than any man should, and she didn’t like it one bit.
It didn’t make sense that she should feel this way.
She didn’t love him. Then why should she imagine that she was betraying him? What utter nonsense!
And he certainly didn’t love her, Susanna reminded herself for the hundredth time as he moved in front of her to open the library door and then closed it behind them.
He simply wanted her for her money. All of his kisses, cajoling, gallantry, seeming patience and understanding, and his unwanted caresses had been directed toward that end.
Her stays must have been laced too tightly the night of her welcome ball and she’d been suffering from lack of air to think he might be falling in love with her. Not that it would make a difference anyway. She meant nothing to him. Nothing. He was a coldhearted, mercenary bastard—
“Your wine,” he said, his husky voice startling her.