Chapter 16 #3
“Yes, it is,” he said, knowing his grip was cruelly tight upon her arm.
“Is there anything we can do?” Thomas Dandridge called out, easily catching up to them on his long legs while the other gentlemen were still gathered in shock beneath the willow. “We could ride along—”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Adam said, keeping up their frantic pace as they rounded the corner of the house to the driveway, which was lined with carriages. “The fire’s been put out, but Miss Cary should be there. Some of her servants were injured—”
“Oh, Adam, no!” she cried. “Who?”
“We’ll talk about it on the way. Just get in,” he ordered, his loud voice jarring awake the Grymes’s coachman, who had apparently been napping inside the carriage.
As Adam swung open the door, the sheepish man jumped down with a mumbled apology and scrambled into the driver’s seat while she was lifted up into the coach.
“Let’s hurry then, Adam. Oh, please, let’s hurry!”
“We will,” he replied grimly. He wheeled on Thomas, who stood helplessly nearby, while some of the other gentlemen were now rushing around the house toward them, Matthew in the lead and, not surprisingly, an openmouthed Celeste bringing up the rear.
“Tell everyone what I told you, Dandridge. The situation is under control, the fire is out. There’s no need for anyone to leave the races. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Thornton. I’ll tell them.”
“Good. Please give our regrets to the Tates.” He glanced in the shadowed interior of the carriage to find the object of his wrath sitting at the edge of the seat, her face stricken, then added, “And give Miss Cary’s regrets to Mr. Dominick Spencer.
I believe she might have been expecting him today.
” Hearing her startled gasp, Adam shouted to the driver as he climbed into the coach and slammed the door shut. “Briarwood! With all haste!”
The coach jolted into motion and he was almost thrown against her, but he regained his balance and took the opposite seat, breathing hard.
“Wh-what did you mean…that I was expecting Mr. Spencer?” she asked in alarm.
“Only a rumor, really,” he said tightly, even in his fury aware of how truly beautiful she was in her exquisite gown.
“Rumor?”
“Yes, something about a betrothal announcement.”
She blanched, and he could see in her strained expression her effort to maintain control. Yet her gaze held more than a glimmer of fear, and he knew then that she suspected he had discovered the truth.
“You…you are mistaken, Adam. We’re going to announce our engagement next Saturday at Briarwood.”
“Funny. The rumor I heard was that you and Dominick Spencer were going to announce your plans to marry today. Oh, yes, and something about you spending several hours with him yesterday at Raven’s Point to make the arrangements—”
“That’s a lie!” she cried. “Surely you don’t believe it, Adam. Who told you? Celeste? She would fabricate something so absurd.”
“Perhaps Elias and Corliss can enlighten us further when we arrive home,” he said, knowing he was tormenting her and thinking how much she deserved every bit of it, and more.
“No wonder they seemed so unusually quiet after your long day of shopping in Yorktown. It’s unpleasant when one is forced to lie for another.
Of course, you know all about lying, don’t you? You seem to be a master of it.”
“Adam, I can explain,” she said, tears swimming in her eyes. “I can explain!”
“Say what you will, but don’t cry for me again,” he said bitterly, hardening his heart against her. “I promise you, such a ploy will not work with me this time.”
“I—I went to his house to return the emerald necklace, that’s all. You must believe me! I knew how much you wanted me to be rid of his gifts, and I thought that that would please you. I just didn’t know how to tell you that I had gone there. I know you don’t like him.”
“No, I don’t like him,” Adam agreed, “and I might have believed your pretty story if you had told it to me yesterday. But I’ll never believe anything you say again…Susanna Guthrie.”
Her mouth fell open in stunned surprise.
She remained silent for a long time, the carriage wheels rumbling and hooves thundering along the road the only sounds around them.
Then she asked him in a small, monotone voice which he barely heard above the din, “Why did you call me that? I’m Camille. Camille Cary.”
“That’s the last lie I’ll grant you, Susanna.
Ever. Now, I’m going to have the driver stop this carriage on a side road off the main thoroughfare and we’re going to get out and take a walk.
I want to hear every single word you have to tell me, and God help you, woman, it had better be the truth!
If not, there’s a prison nearby in Williamsburg that would welcome a lying impostor like you with open arms.”
Again she paused, clearly in shock, only to ask after another few interminable moments, “What…what of the fire? The servants who were injured?”
“I lied,” he said, then, in shock himself, he began to laugh. The ragged sound held only raw pain.