Chapter 22
“Smile, Mrs. Thornton, or no one will know you’re having a good time,” Adam whispered in a low aside as they walked from the crowded dance floor to the side of the brightly lit room. He gave her elbow a sharp squeeze to emphasize his words. “I said, smile.”
Susanna did her best, but her heart wasn’t in it. How could it be, when he had been treating her so callously all day?
She was such a fool, thinking her revelation last night about her nightmares might please him.
Instead it had made him so angry that he had scarcely spoken to her until they had arrived at Westover this afternoon.
Then it was only to give her these brusque commands on how she was to behave at the home of the most influential planter in the Tidewater, William Byrd, or else to play the doting husband whenever anyone was around to see.
When was she going to realize that Adam didn’t trust her?
she wondered, cursing her impatience. It would be months before he believed anything she had to say, regardless of when he achieved his revenge against Dominick.
Heaven give her the strength to wait that long!
When he used such a cutting tone with her, it was all she could do to hold her tongue.
Yet if she vented her temper, she imagined it would only drive him that much further away.
Overwhelmed with frustration, Susanna fanned her face with vigor.
She was grateful for the lull in the music so she might catch her breath.
The eight musicians had kept up an exuberant rhythm for almost an hour now.
She felt flushed from her scalp to her slippered toes, not only from the spirited saraband they had just danced, but also from the stuffy warmth of the large reception room that served as the Byrds’ ballroom.
Longing to move nearer the wide-opened windows for some fresh air, she glanced at Adam to find he was gazing at her in admiration. Familiar excitement shot through her, the kind she always felt when he looked at her in such a hungry manner.
“That rosy color in your cheeks suits you, my love,” he said softly, his gaze straying to the rise and fall of her breasts, swelling provocatively against her daring bodice. “It goes very well with the cream silk of your gown…which fits you quite becomingly.”
“Thank you, Adam,” she replied, mollified that he would say such nice things to her when no one else was near.
“I believe that’s the first compliment you’ve paid me all day.
I was beginning to believe you hadn’t noticed how carefully I had dressed for this evening, it being our first social outing together as husband and wife. ”
His arresting brown eyes caught and held hers. “As I’ve told you before, Camille, nothing about you escapes my notice. Nothing.”
“Well, you two lovebirds, are you enjoying the party?” came Robert Grymes’s blustering voice.
As their stout neighbor lumbered up to them, Susanna wished someone would quickly draw his attention elsewhere so that she and Adam might continue the first promising discussion they had shared since last night. But it was not to be.
“Yes, Mr. Grymes, we’re having a lovely time,” she said, greeting him with a gracious nod. “Aren’t we, Adam?”
“Couldn’t be better.”
Susanna almost winced at the sarcastic tone that had crept back into his voice. “And you, Mr. Grymes?” she queried, hoping the planter hadn’t also noticed.
“Oh, yes, well enough, considering I had to attend alone. My poor Charity and my two youngest sons are abed with summer colds, and Matthew and Celeste are still pining over your sudden marri—” He stopped, clearing his throat in embarrassment. “Forgive me. I meant no insult.”
“None taken,” Adam answered smoothly. “Our marriage was very sudden, and Camille and I feel badly that your son and daughter are suffering undue distress on our account. It was never our intention to mislead them, was it, my love?”
It was Susanna’s turn to reply tersely, resenting his pointed barb about her deception even as she remembered all too clearly how jealous Celeste’s flirtatious attentions toward him had made her. “Of course it wasn’t.”
“Please, don’t trouble yourselves. I’m sure they’ll both get over it soon enough,” Robert said in a rush, obviously eager to abandon the topic. “Young hearts mend quickly. Mine was broken a time or two before my beloved Charity consented to become my blushing bride.”
“Mine as well,” Adam commented dryly.
As Susanna glanced sharply at him, wondering with resentful curiosity who he had known before her who could have possibly broken his hate-filled heart, Robert replied, “There, you see? Happens to the best of us.” He chortled, shrugging his rounded shoulders.
“Well, I’m off to the game room again. There’s a lively round of dice in progress, and so far Dominick Spencer holds the lead in winnings.
Amazing thing. He usually has such rotten luck. ”
Susanna felt Adam’s grip tighten painfully on her arm, which seemed to match her own sudden tension.
“Spencer is here?” he asked darkly.
“Yes, arrived about two hours ago, not long after myself. I believe he’s been in the game room ever since,” Robert replied.
“Well, my congratulations on your marriage. I must say you two make a handsome couple. I had that same thought the first time I saw you together at the Yorktown docks, and even wondered then if there might be a chance you’d strike a fancy for each other…
” He grinned broadly. “Seems my hunch proved right. I wish I had the same luck with the dice.”
“So Dominick is winning for once,” Adam said almost to himself as the jovial planter ambled away, greeting guests here and there. “Let him enjoy it while he can. Come Monday morning, he’ll find his luck has changed.”
“Monday?” Susanna asked, sensing from his dark, ominous expression that his moment of revenge was drawing near. Excitement swamped her. She had never imagined it would happen so soon!
Adam didn’t readily reply, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. When he finally spoke, it was not in answer to her astonished query but as if he was purposely avoiding the subject.
“You’re still flushed, Camille. Perhaps you would like some refreshment. I could use a brandy or two myself.”
“Yes, that would be nice,” Susanna murmured, wondering why he was gazing at her so suspiciously.
Surely he didn’t think that if he revealed his plan to her, she would do something to jeopardize it.
She had told him in her note the other day that she had no intention of thwarting his revenge.
Why, oh, why couldn’t he trust her even in this?
As Adam looped his arm through hers, Susanna gazed longingly at the opened windows across the room, the French lace curtains stirred by a balmy breeze.
“Actually, Adam, would you mind if I waited for you over there rather than accompany you to the dining room? I’m sure it’s just as crowded by the refreshment table as it is in here. I feel so warm…though I’m sure I’ll feel better if I stand by a window for a few moments.”
“If you wish,” he agreed, concerned. “I won’t be gone long. Would you like some lemon punch or wine?”
“Punch sounds wonderful,” she murmured. Her gaze followed his broad back as he wound his way among the chattering guests to the door leading into the hall.
She regretted that she hadn’t had a chance earlier to tell him how magnificent he looked tonight, too, in his royal-blue coat and matching breeches.
Despite his slight limp, he appeared the most virile and physically powerful of any man there.
Susanna felt a sudden rush of desire, thinking ahead to a few hours from now when they would finally be alone in the guest room the Byrds had graciously offered them for the night.
She couldn’t wait to unfasten the buttons on his silver brocade waistcoat and his white lawn shirt to reach the sensual wonder of his chest, where she would run her hands across those hard, sinewed muscles…
Her cheeks burning, she hurried to the window, eager for some fresh air.
She actually felt light-headed from the room’s stuffiness, and after leaning against the windowsill for a moment and finding no immediate relief despite the light breeze, she decided to step outside into the garden rather than risk the embarrassment of fainting in front of everyone.
Willing herself not to panic, Susanna hurried into the central hall, and although she caught a glimpse of Adam tossing down a brandy as he waited his turn at the punch bowl in the opposite dining room, she feared stopping for even a moment to tell him where she was going.
Making her way quickly to the mansion’s back entrance, she almost stumbled outside, her hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart as she dragged in gasps of the much cooler night air.
“Are you feeling ill, Camille?”
She froze at the sound of Dominick’s voice, his tall, spare form materializing eerily out of the darkness.
“No, I’m fine,” she stammered, thinking with alarm that she should return immediately to the house. Yet she still felt so dizzy, she feared she might faint in the hall.
Perhaps a few moments more would make her feel better she decided. She would stay right here by the door. Since there were other guests walking through the darkened gardens, Dominick wouldn’t dare to accost her…would he?
“You don’t look fine to me,” he disagreed, stamping out the cheroot he had been smoking.
He moved toward her abruptly and took her arm.
“Your face is red. I think a walk in the garden might help to clear your head. The house is very warm tonight. Does your husband” —his tone grew harsh— “know you’re out here? ”
Flustered by his insistent grip on her arm, Susanna blurted without thinking, “No,” then, realizing her foolish blunder, she hastily added, “I mean, he’s fetching me some lemon punch. I’m sure he’ll return shortly.”
“Then walk with me, Camille, if only for a few moments. You’ll feel much better by the time he joins you.”