Chapter 24
Dominick sat alone in his darkened library, the shabby draperies drawn against the bright midday sun. The shadowed room perfectly suited his mood, which was a very dangerous one indeed. He felt trapped, like a wounded animal in a snare, and there didn’t seem to be any way he could save himself.
His stomach twisting painfully, bile burning his throat, he again surveyed the legal documents in front of him on the desk.
He hadn’t wanted to read them at all, but he had forced himself, needing to know the extent of his financial trouble.
He had quickly discovered that the situation was far worse than he had imagined.
He could never pay the sum that Adam Thornton demanded. Never. And despite his influence and highly respected position, he doubted the magistrate would rule in his favor. Men had been sentenced to debtors’ prison for far less than what he owed. What the devil was he going to do?
Murder wouldn’t solve his dilemma anymore, unless he figured out a way to dispatch not only that vengeful scum Adam Thornton but his damned attorney as well, and before noon tomorrow.
Then, of course, there was the small matter of Camille calling him a monster, something he had never expected to hear from her lips.
Yet he supposed he should have anticipated it, considering she fancied herself in love with that low-class abomination who thought himself a gentleman.
Adam had doubtless filled her head with all kinds of sordid stories and she had swallowed them whole, which was probably why she had slighted him at the Tates’—
Dominick slammed his fist down upon the desk, cursing violently.
If he managed to rid himself of both Adam Thornton and William Booth, he could certainly deal with that little chit and her mewling protests. After a bit of coercion and a threat against her life, she would trip down the church aisle with him merrily enough, and then his troubles would be over.
A theft, that’s what he could make it look like, he reasoned suddenly.
It might be a little risky, but he was a gambler used to taking chances.
What other choice did he have anyway? If he was found out, he would rather face hanging than rot for years in some prison cell.
But he wouldn’t be caught, not if he was careful.
First he would take care of William Booth at his office in Yorktown.
Then tonight, he would go to Briarwood and slit Adam Thornton’s throat.
After that bastard’s death it would be a simple matter to frighten Camille into permanent silence…
oh, yes, and he couldn’t forget the big black buck who had driven them here.
If that coachman valued his balls, he would keep his mouth shut, too.
“The devil take you, Spencer, why didn’t you think of this sooner?” Dominick muttered under his breath. His plan was so perfect! Here he had been sitting in this library for over an hour since they had left, wasting precious time, although in truth, he hardly remembered their carriage pulling away.
At least in this instance, he was glad those convicts had tried to escape, giving him an outlet for his blinding rage.
It was amazing how whipping a man to death never failed to soothe his temper.
Too bad that third one had been killed by his dogs.
The wretch could have joined his compatriot who had survived the lashing for the punishment he planned to inflict first thing tomorrow morning in front of every convict at Raven’s Point.
When the rest of them heard the bastard’s dying screams, they’d be content enough to hoe weeds.
Dominick rose from his desk, impatient to change out of his blood-spattered clothes and be on his way. He had much to do. A knock came at the door just as he reached it, and he yanked it open to find his head overseer, a broad-shouldered, thickset man, waiting for him in the hall.
“What do you want, Dobson?” he demanded.
“Well, Mr. Spencer, you might think what I have to tell you is a little strange—”
“Spit it out, man! I’m in a hurry.”
“It’s about the convict I hauled back a while ago to the prisoners’ quarters, Keefer Dunn. He’s regained consciousness and he’s been asking for you, over and over—not just babbling but making some sense. He says he has something important to tell you—”
“And you think I should talk to him?” Dominick cut him off scornfully, remembering how the convict had pleaded the same thing with him until he had been lashed into senseless silence.
“You’re going soft on me, Dobson, and anyway, the man dies tomorrow morning as an example to the rest of his surly friends.
You know that. Now get back to the fields. ”
“If you’d hear me out, Mr. Spencer. I told him to shut up many a time and even hit him across the face with the butt of my whip, but he kept stubbornly insisting that he see you. He said he knows something about that young woman who was here earlier, and when I told him her name—”
“You did what?” Dominick glared at the man.
“I didn’t see any harm in it, and I got the impression it had something to do with why he was asking for you.
Well, when he heard that her name was Camille Cary, or used to be before she became Adam Thornton’s wife, he yelled out that no, her real name is Susanna Guthrie.
He told me that he knew her in London before she went to work as a waiting-maid for a Miss Camille Cary, who was living with her aunt, Baroness Redmayne, at Fairford. ”
“You’re talking gibberish, man!” Dominick shouted, yet he was stunned that a common criminal would know so much about Camille’s family background.
How had the man stumbled upon such information?
The only person he had told any of this to was Cleo, and she wouldn’t have dared to say anything to anybody. She knew better.
“Maybe so, Mr. Spencer, but the bloke seemed to know a lot about the lady, and since it’s common knowledge even among the slaves that you and Miss Cary had reached a decision to marry right before she suddenly wed Adam Thornton—” Seeing Dominick’s scowl deepen, the overseer quickly added, “You made no secret of it, Mr. Spencer. Anyway, I thought you might be curious as to what he’s talking about.
I know I was. That’s why I came here to tell you about it. ”
A vein in his temple throbbing, Dominick didn’t like at all the fact that he was the object of discussion among his laborers, but he had to admit his curiosity was aroused despite that he wanted to leave for Yorktown as soon as possible.
“All right, Dobson, five minutes. That’s all I’ll give him.”
The stench of sweat, urine, and filth in the prisoners’ run-down quarters was unbearable, but Dominick, after commanding the disappointed overseer to wait by the door, quickly made his way between the wooden cots to the one where the beaten convict lay on his stomach.
When Dominick stopped beside the soiled, foul-smelling mattress, the man slowly turned his head, wincing from the pain that small movement cost him.
“So ye’ve come, Mr. Spencer. I thought ye might.”
Paying no heed to the convict’s bare, bloodied back, Dominick grated, “Mr. Dobson said you wanted to see me, Dunn. What is this nonsense about Miss Camille Cary?”
The man licked his cracked lips, his dark-yellow eyes turning shrewd as he answered, “She’s not wot she seems t’ be, ‘tis all.”
“And what exactly does that mean…not what she seems to be?”
“Simple. I put two and two together when I saw ‘er today, recognizing ‘er as I did, and I tried t’ tell ye when they were drivin’ away, but ye wouldn’t listen t’ me…
” He shifted on the mattress for emphasis, grimacing, but when he received no words of apology, he grudgingly continued.
“She was the girl ye planned t’ marry, right?
The one who stood ye up fer another man? ”
Dominick nodded, angered anew that his private life had become a topic of keen interest to his workers.
But like Dobson had said, he’d made no secret of it.
From the Tuesday Camille had visited him to Wednesday, when he had arrived at the Tates’ to find her gone, he had told several neighbors his good news and a number of the house servants, including Cleo.
Word of his upcoming betrothal, and its swift demise, must have flown about the plantation like wildfire.
“Well, ye should be glad ye didn’t marry ‘er because the chit’s an impostor. I don’t know ‘ow she’s done it, passin’ ‘erself off as ‘er mistress Camille Cary, but that Susanna Guthrie was always a clever wench.”
“An impostor?” Dominick queried suspiciously. “That’s not possible. Camille fits every description I’ve ever heard of her before she even set foot in Virginia.”
“It is possible and I’ll tell ye ‘ow, Mr. Spencer. But first ye must make Keefer Dunn a promise.”
Dominick’s temper flared. He should have known this wretch would demand payment.
“You’re hardly in any position to barter, Dunn. I could just as easily whip the information out of you.”
“Aye, ye could, and I could just as easily die on ye, too, like wot happened t’ me friend Tommy a short while ago.
‘E wasn’t strong enough t’ take such a beatin’ like me, but another so quickly after the first?
I don’t know that I’d live through it, and then where would ye be? Left hangin’, t’ be sure.”
Realizing this man was a very cunning one, Dominick decided to humor him. “Very well. Name your price.”
“Make me an overseer. I’ll work ‘ard at it, I will, and ye’ll find none more loyal. I’ll keep these blokes in line as good as any ye’ve seen. There’ll be no more escape attempts because I know ‘ow their minds work, and I’ll be watchin’ ‘em like a hawk ev’ry second. Wot do ye say?”
Dominick was silent for a moment, feigning consideration, then he said, “I suppose that could easily be arranged, but what makes you think that whatever you might tell me is of any interest to me now? Miss Cary married someone else. The matter is closed.”