Defiant Impostor

by Miriam Minger

  “You don’t know the half of why I hate that bastard, Susanna, and I’m certainly not going to explain now,” he began. “What would you say if I told you that your precious Dominick is not quite the man he makes himself out to be?”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand anything! What did you see when you went to Raven’s Point yesterday? A sumptuous house, yes, but when you went inside, did you find it somewhat lacking in comfort? Did you think it not quite up to the luxury you might have expected from such a rich man?”

  “No, I didn’t,” she responded tartly, not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that was exactly what she had thought.

  “Really? I’m surprised. And outside, did you see anything strange? No ill-fed, ill-clothed slaves? By the way, Dominick Spencer doesn’t have any free laborers at Raven’s Point, as we do at Briarwood. His only free slaves are dead slaves, and the few lucky ones like myself who managed to earn back their indentures before he worked us to death. He doesn’t employ any more indentured servants for that very reason. He didn’t like having to set anyone free, white or black. He imports convicts now, I hear. They make better sport.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted stubbornly, willing Corliss’s disturbing observations from her mind. “I didn’t see any of the things you’ve described.”

  “Well, you would have eventually, but not in time to save you from making the biggest mistake of your life,” Adam said tightly, then he abruptly changed the subject. “You said that Lady Redmayne would never come here to the colonies. Do you believe that to be true?”

  “If I didn’t, I would never have attempted to fulfill my promise to Camille,” she said, not sure why he wanted to know. “Whatever you might think of me now, Adam, I am no fool.”

  “What I think of you …” He grabbed her arm and began pulling her along with him toward the carriage.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, his cruel grip hurting her. At his hard expression, apprehension flooded her. “Where are we going? Back to Briarwood?”

  “No. Williamsburg.

  “Oh, God, you’re taking me to prison, aren’t you? After I told you the truth? You could at least let me go. I’ll leave the colony, go back to England. You’ll never see me again—”

  “Now why would I want to do that?” He stopped to face her, his eyes ablaze with anger. “Why would I want to spoil something you have so skillfully engineered? I’m the only one who knows about your masquerade, Susanna, and I plan to keep it that way. But I can’t do it without your help, so now you must make a very important decision. Either continue on as Camille Cary and become my wife this very afternoon, or I shall convince the constable that you are a murderess and see you hang before the week is out.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Try me.”

  At that moment Susanna became convinced with icy certainty that he had never been in love with her. It was only Briarwood he wanted and he would have it, even if it meant forcing her to marry him against her will. She had been right about him from the very start. He was nothing but a vicious, coldhearted, opportunistic blackguard—

  Suddenly she thought she saw uneasiness in his gaze, almost as if he feared from her hesitation that she might choose prison and its terrors over marrying him. But then it was gone, and he was shaking her so hard that her head snapped back.

  “Choose, Susanna, for you have tried my patience long enough!”

  “I said I was no fool!” she cried, infuriated by his rough treatment of her. “How can I not choose life over death … even if it means I must spend my days with a conniving bastard such as you? Maybe to hang would be a better fate!”

  For a fleeting instant his expression became so thunderous that she thought he might strike her, but the poignant anguish in his eyes tempered her fear. Why did he seem to hate her, when at the same time she sensed a hurt deep within him?

  “Come on.” Yanking her alongside him until they came to the bend in the road, he wound his arm through hers and said in a harsh whisper, “Smile, damn you. We don’t want the Grymes’s poor coachman to think anything is amiss. He’s confused enough already. In fact, I’m sure everyone is bewildered, but I don’t doubt you’ll come up with some clever excuses for our strange behavior today. I commend you. You’re as quick-witted as they come. Your upbringing in London’s slums has served you well, my love.”

  Thinking how hollow his endearment sounded, Susanna reluctantly did as he bade her and pasted a false smile on her face. As the coachman, who appeared relieved to see them again, drove the carriage up to meet them, Adam lifted her inside and ordered, “Take us to the Market Square Tavern in Williamsburg! As quickly as you can get us there!”

  “Market Square Tavern?” she asked in confusion as he took the seat opposite hers.

  “Yes. You didn’t think we could be married in Bruton’s Parish church, did you? We have no license, and wedding banns must be posted there for three Sundays before the minister would wed us. I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait that long. I know of an old parson who lives upstairs at the tavern who’ll marry an eager couple for the price of a bottle of wine. It’s legal—and permanent.”

  Shivering at the cold finality in his voice, Susanna slumped against the seat in angry resignation as the carriage rounded the corner that took them out onto the main road. She trained her gaze out the window.

  Bloody hell! Here she was on her way to be married in a common tavern by a drunken parson to a hateful, lying excuse of a man who would surely make her days a torment for the rest of her life! The fact that she would still be able to honor at least part of Camille’s last wish brought her little comfort. What had she done to bring this misery upon herself?

  Susanna glanced back at Adam, and was not surprised to find him still glaring at her. “Would you mind telling me how I gave myself away?” she inquired sullenly.

  “Purely by accident,” he said with little emotion, belying the animosity in his gaze. “Ertha found the painting you hid in the hatbox when she went to put your purchases away on Monday afternoon. That was what she didn’t want you to see when she came to the library.”

  “So it was the portrait,” she said almost to herself, cursing the sentiment that had prevented her from tossing it overboard when she had had the chance.

  “No, not the portrait itself, although Ertha suggested there might be some deception afoot. Poor woman. I didn’t believe her. I told her that an incompetent artist must have painted it to have so misrepresented your features.”

  Surprised to hear that he had given her the benefit of the doubt, she asked, “What was it, then?”

  “Something Ertha wouldn’t have noticed because she never learned to read. Your signature.”

  Susanna stared at him blankly.

  “Your signature on the note was not the same as the one I found on the back of the painting. Didn’t you know that Camille had written an inscription there to her father?”

  “No … no, I never looked at the back.”

  “A foolish oversight. That evidence combined with what Polly Blake told me at the Tates’—”

  “Polly Blake?”

  “Yes, another waiting-maid who was aboard the Charming Nancy.”

  “You mean that dark-haired girl you were speaking with near the refreshment table?”

  “Then you noticed.”

  “I chanced to look over once or twice,” she allowed with feigned nonchalance, recalling how she had jealously wondered what they were discussing. “But I didn’t recognize her from the voyage.”

  “She didn’t recognize you, either, at least not who you really were. All she remembered about you and Camille was that you both had the same honey-blonde hair. I knew then that you were an impostor.”

  “Yes, I suppose you did.” Susanna abruptly fell silent. It seemed she had no one to blame but herself for this wretched turn of events.

  “You were right
about Celeste. She was the one who told me about your betrothal plans. I believe we both have her to thank for this day’s unexpected outcome.”

  Oh, she knew friggin’ well why Adam was grateful, Susanna thought heatedly. Briarwood would soon belong to him. But how could she possibly be obliged to that loose-lipped gossip for the mess her life had suddenly become?

  “Cheer up, Susanna. At least you’ll be able to live in lavish comfort for the rest of your life. Things could be worse.”

  Nothing could be worse, she thought resentfully as the fields and woods gradually gave way to the neat white houses of Williamsburg. She refused to waste even a glance on him, watching with dread for the painted sign announcing the Market Square Tavern.

  The irony was not lost on her that she would be marrying Adam Thornton after all, the man Camille had dreamed would be a perfect match for her. Except that now the hired man and the waiting-maid were about to play the biggest roles of their lives.

  Loving husband and wife.

  And nothing could be further from the truth.

  Chapter 18

  “Well, my darling wife, it looks like we have visitors. I hope you have sharpened your story-telling skills. You’re going to need them.”

  Susanna said nothing, avoiding Adam’s eyes as his hands encircled her waist and he lifted her easily from the carriage. She glanced with growing apprehension at the dusty black coach also parked in the drive which bore Dominick’s family crest, then at the front door, which suddenly opened. Her breath snagging painfully, she was immensely relieved to see it was only Ertha hurrying from the house, followed by Corliss and a half dozen other servants who all appeared equally distressed.

  “Oh, Miss Camille, Mr. Thornton! We were wondering when you would get here!” the housekeeper cried, out of breath when she reached them. “Mr. Dominick Spencer arrived over an hour ago, along with Miss Grymes and her brother. They’re waiting in the drawing room. They brought us the strangest news … they said Briarwood was struck by a fire, but there hasn’t been any fire … at least not on the main grounds. Has something terrible happened in the outlying fields—”

  “Calm yourself, Ertha, nothing terrible has happened,” Adam broke in, taking Susanna’s arm possessively. She started at his touch, but forced a shaky smile to her lips as he abruptly announced, “We’ve wonderful news for you. Camille became my bride earlier this afternoon.”

  As every mouth in the agitated group fell open, stunned faces turning toward her, Susanna somehow managed to say, “Yes, it’s true. Adam and I were married today in Williamsburg. I know this comes as a complete surprise to all of you, but we’re very happy and hope you will be, too.” Glancing at Adam to find him staring at her, an unfathomable emotion in his gaze, she felt a dizzying warmth flood her body and she quickly turned back to Ertha. “I take it you provided refreshments for our guests?”

  “Yes … Yes, I did, Miss Camille,” the housekeeper murmured, appearing more in shock than the others. Corliss, however, was beaming broadly.

  “No, Ertha, you mean Mistress Thornton now,” the maid corrected, unmistakable relief in her dark eyes, which skipped to Adam. “And Master Thornton.”

  Susanna almost winced at the sound of her new name. Doing her best to maintain her flagging composure, she requested softly, “Please, Ertha, Corliss, the rest of you, if you must call me ‘Mistress,’ then use my first name. The other sounds so formal, and I’m sure Adam won’t mind …”

  “Not at all, my love,” he said, bending his head to press a light kiss on her flushed cheek. “Anything to please you.”

  At first startled that he would act with such familiarity in front of the servants, Susanna had to remind herself that as her husband, Adam now had a right to do that and much more. Touch her, embrace her, share her bed … oh, she didn’t want to think about it!

  Perhaps it was enough for him that he was the master of Briarwood now, with the entire Cary fortune at his disposal. She doubted he wanted anything more from her anyway. He despised her. He was just mocking her with his blatant show of affection. Of course he wouldn’t want to—

  “We should greet our guests, don’t you think?” he asked her, his warm breath tickling her ear. “I’m sure they will be pleased to hear there was no fire.”

  “Y-yes, we should greet them,” she murmured, her legs wooden as they moved to the door, the silent servants parting for them on both sides of the walkway.

  Candles had already been lit in the main hall, for the day had grown cloudy and dark with a thunderstorm brewing. Susanna found the cooler air in the house soothing after the heavy, humid air outside, and much easier to breathe. Now if only her heart would stop pounding so furiously …

  “The drawing room, Ertha?” Adam asked, still tightly holding Susanna’s arm, as if he feared she might flee up the stairs. Coward! He would leave this mess entirely up to her to straighten out.

  “Yes, Master Thornton,” the wide-eyed housekeeper replied, then she rounded in agitation on the other servants. “Go on with you! Get back to your chores. You heard there was no fire, so there’s nothing to keep you here gawking. Just pass the word along that this is a very happy day for Briarwood. Corliss, take some of the other maids with you and see that Master Thornton’s things are moved into Miss … Mistress Camille’s room, real quick now. Make sure everything looks nice, you hear?”

  Susanna wanted to tell Ertha that such a task wasn’t necessary, she and Adam wouldn’t be sharing a bedroom, but she was distracted as he steered her toward the closed drawing-room door.

  “I’ll go tell Prue to prepare you a special wedding supper,” the housekeeper added, appearing much calmer now that she had resumed command.

  “Thank you, Ertha,” Adam said, his hand reaching for the knob. “Have it brought up to our room, along with the best wine in the cellar.”

  “What?” Susanna blurted just as the door was abruptly opened from the inside and she came face-to-face with Celeste.

  “I thought I heard your voices!” the young woman exclaimed, her freckled cheeks pink-spotted with exasperation. She stepped backward stiffly as they moved into the room. “Where have you two been? We’ve been waiting here forever, worried sick about you, and to make matters worse, your servants know absolutely nothing about any fire! Now we’d like an explanation!”

  Susanna jumped as the door was shut behind them, her gaze flying to Dominick, who rose to greet her. He was dressed in the finest clothes she had ever seen and an elaborate curled wig, his splendid attire obviously chosen for the occasion of their betrothal; in fact, he would have looked absolutely perfect except for the uncharacteristic sheen of perspiration on his face. Irritation emanated from his every step, clinging to him like the sweet imported cologne he wore.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” he asked, his ice-blue eyes growing colder as he noted Adam’s hand beneath her elbow. “I’m sure Miss Cary is quite capable of standing on her own without any assistance from you, Mr. Thornton. Kindly release her.”

  “Now, why would I want to do that?” Susanna heard Adam say calmly, although she felt the tension in his tightening grasp. She sensed what he was about to reveal and wished impossibly that the floor would open up and swallow her whole, leaving this entire tangled muddle behind her.

  “I beg your pardon?” Dominick asked, his aristocratic features marked with dark confusion and barely repressed anger at Adam’s insolence. “Camille, I demand that you tell this … this hired servant of yours—”

  “Try husband, Spencer, and you’ll be closer to the truth,” Adam stated bluntly, his arm winding around Susanna’s waist in a clear gesture of possession. She inhaled in surprise as he drew her close to him, but her response was nothing to the horrified gasp that came from Celeste. Momentarily speechless, the pretty redhead’s face had become an unattractive shade of pasty white.

  “What do you mean, husband?” Dominick said tightly, his narrowed gaze riveting on Susanna.

  Say it! Just say it! she screamed to herself,
quickly deciding it was best just to blurt out the news. The strained tension in the room was enough to blow out the windows.

  “Adam and I were married today,” she heard herself say, her voice sounding strangely like someone else’s.

  “Married?” cried Celeste, while Matthew, his reddened face making a stark contrast to his sister’s unwholesome pallor, simply gaped.

  “Married?” Dominick rasped, his voice incredulous.

  “Yes, in Williamsburg. I—I’m so terribly sorry you had to hear it this way,” Susanna sought to explain, more to Dominick than anyone else, “but it came as a total surprise to me as well. I … I didn’t know Adam held such strong feelings for me, although I had hoped all along that he did—why, ever since I first saw him at the Yorktown docks. And when he heard a rumor from Celeste that Dominick and I were going to announce our betrothal, it finally spurred him to action. He couldn’t bear the thought of my marrying another man.”

  “This can’t be true. It can’t be,” Celeste repeated in disbelief while Susanna, ignoring her, plunged on with her hastily conceived story, despite the silent planter’s look of pure fury.

  “I’m really very sorry if I’ve hurt you, Dominick. I never meant to insult or mislead you. That’s why I’m so glad you were late today to the races and we didn’t announce our engagement. I would never have been able to forgive myself if I had publicly humiliated you. It’s just when Adam spirited me from the Tates’, saying that there was a fire at Briarwood, and then proposed to me in the Grymes’s carriage, I couldn’t refuse him. I was so happy to discover that he loved me, the last thing I wanted to do was wait three weeks while the banns were published at Bruton’s Parish. We were married in a tavern … what was it called, Adam darling?”

  “Market Square.”

  Infuriated by the restrained amusement in his voice while she was quaking in her high-heeled shoes, Susanna nonetheless did her best to continue her impersonation of a giddy bride.