Counterfeit Lady Read online

  The hall clock struck seven, and she wondered how on earth she was going to wait until nine before seeing him again. A quick check of the twins’ rooms showed they were dressed and gone.

  She left the house by the garden door, but as she stood there under the little octagonal porch, she paused a moment. She usually went to the left, to the kitchen. Suddenly, she turned on her heel and took the right-hand stairs that led to the path to Clay’s office.

  She’d never been in Clay’s office before, and somehow she got the impression that very few people did go there. It was shaped like a miniature of the main house, rectangular with a high-pitched roof. Only the dormers and the porches were missing.

  She knocked lightly at the door, and when no answer came she lifted the latch. She was curious about the place where the man she loved spent so much time.

  The wall facing the door contained two windows, which were surrounded, floor to ceiling, with bookshelves. The overhanging maple trees made the room cool and dark. The end walls contained oak files and a cabinet for rolled documents. She stepped fully into the room. The bookshelves were filled with books on Virginia law, surveying, and the raising of different crops. She smiled and ran her finger along some of the leather bindings. They were clean, and she knew from Clay’s habits that the cleanliness came from use instead of a dust rag.

  Still smiling, she turned toward the opposite wall where the fireplace was. Instantly, her smile faded. Over the fireplace hung an enormous portrait—of Bianca. It was Bianca at her very loveliest, a little slimmer than Nicole remembered her. Her honey-blonde hair was drawn away from her oval face, fat sausage curls hanging over one bare shoulder. Her eyes were deep blue and sparkling, her little mouth was drawn into a slight smile. It was a mischievous, impish expression, one Nicole had never seen. It was a smile meant for someone she loved very much.

  Still stunned, she looked at the mantel. Slowly, she walked toward it. A little red velvet beret lay there. She’d seen Bianca wear an identical one several times. There was a gold bracelet beside it, one she’d also seen Bianca wear. The inscription read, “B, with all my love, C.”

  Nicole stepped back. The portrait, the pieces of clothing, all went together to form a shrine. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was a memory set up to a dead woman.

  How could she fight this? Last night he’d said no words of love to her. She remembered with horror all the things she’d said to him. Damn him! He knew how she reacted to the least little bit of alcohol. It had always been a family joke that if anyone wanted to know any of Nicole’s secrets, all they had to do was give her two drops of wine.

  But this morning she was different. This morning, she must try and salvage what was left of her pride. She walked across the garden to the kitchen and had breakfast. Maggie kept giving broad hints about Mr. Clay returning and that Nicole should eat with him. Nicole ignored her.

  After breakfast, she went to the wash house and got cleaning supplies. Once inside the main house, she changed into a serviceable dress of midnight blue calico, then went downstairs again to start polishing the morning room. Maybe the work would help her make some decisions.

  She was busy on the spinet when Clay’s lips touched her neck. She jumped as if she’d been burned.

  “I missed you at breakfast,” he said lazily. “I would have stayed with you if it weren’t so close to harvest time.” His eyes were dark, hooded.

  Nicole took a deep breath. If she stayed here with him, she’d spend every night with him, until he finally got the woman he loved. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  He reacted immediately to her cool tone. His back stiffened. The lazy, seductive look left his face. “What is it?” His tone matched hers.

  “I can’t stay here,” she said flatly, trying not to let him see her pain. “Bianca—” It hurt her even to say the name. “Bianca will surely come to America soon. I’m sure when she receives your letter and the passage money, she will take the first ship here.”

  “There’s nowhere for you to go. You must stay here.” It was a command.

  “And be your mistress?” she flared.

  “You’re my wife! How can you forget that when you constantly remind me that you were forced into the marriage?”

  “Yes, I’m your wife. For the moment. But how long will it last? Would you still want me for your wife if your dear Bianca walked through that door right now?”

  He didn’t answer her.

  “I want an answer! I think I deserve that much. Last night, you purposefully got me drunk. You knew what it did to me, that’s why I don’t remember the night you saved me from the dogs.”

  “Yes, I knew. But I also knew you needed to talk. I had no other purpose in mind.”

  She turned away for a moment. “I’m sure you didn’t. But there I was, sprawled across your lap, begging you to make love to me.”

  “It wasn’t like that. Surely, you must remember—” He stepped forward.

  “I remember everything.” She tried to calm herself. “Please listen to me. I have some pride, even if it doesn’t seem so at times. You’re asking too much of me. I can’t stay here as your wife, truly your wife, knowing that any day it may all end.” She covered her face with her hands. “I’ve had too many endings in my life!”

  “Nicole—” He touched her hair.

  She jumped away from him. “Don’t touch me! You’ve played with my feelings too much. You know what I feel about you, and you’ve used it already. Please don’t hurt me anymore. Please.”

  He stepped away from her. “Believe me, I never meant to hurt you. Tell me what you want. What is mine is yours.”

  I want your heart, Nicole wanted to scream. “The mill,” she said firmly. “It’s nearly harvest time, and I can have it running in a couple of weeks. The house looks sound, and I could live in it.”

  Clay opened his mouth to say no, then he closed it, took a step backward, picked up his hat, and turned toward the door. “It’s yours. I’ll see the deed is drawn up. I’ll also sign over the indenture papers to two men and a woman. You’ll need the help.” He put his hat on and left the room.

  Nicole felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She sat down heavily in a chair. A night of love and a morning of horror.

  Chapter 8

  NICOLE LOST NO TIME LEAVING THE HOUSE. SHE KNEW THAT her resolve wouldn’t be strong for very long. She rowed herself across the river to the mill. It sat on a hill with a long wooden trough leading from the fall of the river to the top of the water wheel. It was a tall, narrow building with a stone foundation and a brick body. The roof was of split wooden shakes. A porch ran along the entire front of the building. The water wheel itself was one and a half stories high.

  Inside the building, Nicole climbed to the second story, where two doors opened onto a balcony overlooking the wheel. As far as she could tell, the buckets on the wheel were in good shape, though the ones resting at the bottom could possibly be rotten.

  The enormous millstones inside the building were five feet in diameter and eight inches thick. She ran her hands along the stone and recognized the irregular network of quartz. The stones were of French burr, the finest in the world. They had been brought to America as ballast in the hold of a ship, then carried downriver to the Armstrong plantation. The stones were deeply grooved, with a series of radiating ridges. She was pleased to see that the stones were well balanced, coming very close together but not touching.

  Outside in the sunlight, she walked along the hill to the little house. She could tell very little about it because of the lumber nailed over the windows and doors.

  A commotion toward the river drew her attention.

  “Nicole! Are you here?” Janie was yelling as she trudged up the hill.

  The large, pink-cheeked woman was a joy to see, and they hugged as if they hadn’t seen each other every day since they had left the ship.

  “It didn’t work out, huh?”

  “No,” Nicole said. “It didn’t work