Counterfeit Lady Read online

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Bianca said.

  “You can be honest with me. Clay told me the whole story. You came all the way from England, expecting to marry Clay, only to find he’d married someone else. Now he openly lives with her.”

  “You do understand!” Bianca cried gratefully. “Everyone seems to be against me, and I don’t understand why. They should be against that awful woman, Nicole. I’m the one who’s been wronged.”

  “Tell me, Bianca, why did you want to marry Clay in the first place?”

  She was silent.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Wes continued. “It seems that we could help each other. You know, of course, that Clay is a man of some means.” He smiled at Bianca’s eager nod. “The last few years, my own plantation hasn’t been doing so well. If you were mistress of Arundel Hall, you could help me.”

  “How?”

  “Now and then a piece of livestock could stray onto my land or maybe a few bushels of wheat could disappear. Clay wouldn’t miss them.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you’d be his wife. You’d own half the plantation.”

  Bianca smiled. “Of course. Could you help me get to be his wife? At first, I was sure I would be, but lately I’m not so sure.”

  “Of course you’ll be his wife. If you’ll help me, I’ll help you.”

  “I will. But how will you get rid of that awful Nicole? She throws herself at him and, stupid man that he is, he enjoys her harlot’s ways.”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Clay said flatly from where he towered over Bianca.

  She turned, her hand flying to her throat. “Clay! You gave me such a fright! I had no idea you were near.”

  Clay ignored her and turned to Wes. “There was really no need for this. It took me a while, but I finally saw what you meant. She’s not Beth.”

  “No,” Wes said quietly, “she’s not.” He stood up, his eyes going from Clay to Bianca. “I think you have some talking to do.”

  Clay nodded, then held out his hand. “I owe you a lot.”

  Wes grinned and shook his friend’s hand. “I haven’t forgotten that punch you gave me. But I’ll pick my time to repay you.”

  Clay laughed. “It’ll take you and Travis both.”

  Wesley snorted, then left Clay alone with Bianca.

  She was beginning to understand that Clay had heard all of her conversation with Wes and that Wes had purposely planned it so he would. “How dare you eavesdrop on me?” she breathed as Clay sat opposite her.

  “Your words didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Tell me, why did you come to America?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I once thought I loved you, and I asked you to marry me. I was…haunted by you for a long time, but now I realize that I never loved you, that I never even knew you.”

  “What are you trying to say? I have letters where you say you’ll marry me. It’s against the law to go back on a proposal.”

  Clay looked at her in astonishment. “How could you consider a breach of promise when I’m already married? No court in the world would ask me to leave my wife to marry someone else.”

  “They would when I tell them the circumstances of the marriage.”

  Clay’s jaw hardened. “What do you want? Money? I’ll pay you for your time. You’ve already accumulated a sizable wardrobe.”

  Bianca fought back tears. How could this crude Colonial ruffian understand what she wanted? In England, she’d not been able to mingle with the crowd of people who had once been her family’s peers because of her lack of wealth. Some of the people she knew in her reduced status laughed behind her back at her proposal from an American. They insinuated that she couldn’t get anyone else. Bianca had hinted that she’d had several proposals, but it wasn’t true.

  So what did she really want? She wanted what her family had once had—security, position, freedom from bill collectors, the feeling that she was wanted and needed. “I want the Armstrong plantation,” she said quietly.

  Clay sat back in the chair. “You certainly don’t ask for much, do you? I can’t, or won’t, give it to you. I’ve grown to love Nicole, and I mean to keep her as my wife.”

  “But you can’t! I came all the way from England. You have to marry me!”

  Clay raised one eyebrow. “You will return to England in as much comfort as can be managed. I will try to compensate you for your time and for…the breach of promise. It is the best I can do.”

  Bianca glared at him. “Who do you think you are, you insufferable, uneducated boor? Do you think I ever wanted to marry you? I only came when I heard you had some money. Do you think you’re going to discard me like so much baggage? Do you think I’m going to return to England as a jilted woman?”

  Clay stood up. “I don’t give a good goddamn what you do. You’re going back as soon as possible, even if I have to personally throw you in the hold.” He turned on his heel and left her. If he stood near her another minute, he just might hit her.

  Bianca was seething. Never would she allow that disgusting man to jilt her. He thought he could demand that she marry him, then he could command her to go away just as easily, just as if she were a serving girl. Nicole! That’s who was the scullery maid! Yet he tossed her, Bianca, aside for that lower-class scullion.

  Her hands made fists at her side. She wouldn’t allow him to do it! Once an ancestor of hers had known the nephew of the king of England. She was an important person, with power and influence.

  Family, she thought. Those men this morning had said they were part of her family. Yes, she smiled. They’d help her. They’d get the plantation for her. Then no one would laugh at her!

  Clay stood under the roof of one of Ellen’s several porches. The cold shower beat down around him, isolating him. He took a cigar from his pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply on it. He’d had time in the last few days to curse himself for a fool, but today curses weren’t enough.

  In spite of what he’d said to Wes, seeing Bianca in a clear light had been a revelation. His mind had always been hindered by the vision of Beth.

  He sat on the porch railing, one long leg on the floor as he watched the rain begin to slacken. Through the trees, he could see a faint glimmer of sunlight. Nicole had known what Bianca was, he thought. Yet Nicole had always been gracious and kind to the woman, had never been hostile or allowed her anger to vent itself on her.

  He smiled and threw the cigar stub into the wet grass. The rain was dripping off the eaves of the house, but already the sun was making the drops sparkle on the lawn. He glanced up toward the window of the room where Nicole slept. Or did she? he wondered. How had she reacted when she saw Bianca at the party?

  He went inside the house, through the corridors, and up the stairs to their room. Nicole was the most giving person he’d ever met. She’d love him, his children, his servants, even his animals, yet she’d never ask anything in return.

  He knew she wasn’t asleep as soon as he opened the door. He went straight to the wardrobe and grabbed a dress, a plain calico one of chocolate brown. “Get dressed,” he said calmly. “I want to take you somewhere.”

  Chapter 12

  SLOWLY, SHE THREW BACK THE COVERS AND SLIPPED her chemise over her head. Her body felt stiff with misery. At least he hadn’t forgotten her, she thought. At least this time his beloved Bianca’s presence hadn’t completely blinded him. Or maybe he was taking her back to the mill, as far away from Bianca as possible.

  She didn’t ask where they were going. Her hands shook so badly as she buttoned the dress that Clay’s hands pushed hers away. He looked at her face, watched her eyes, enormous and liquid, filled with fear and longing.

  He bent and kissed her softly, and her mouth clung to his. “I don’t guess I’ve given you much reason to trust me, have I?”

  She could only stare at him, her throat too swollen to speak.

  He smiled at her in a fatherly way, then took her hand and led her from the room and out of the house. She lifted her long sk