Counterfeit Lady Read online

  “Where’s the portrait of Beth?” Wes asked through clenched teeth.

  “I moved it to my office,” Clay said as he poured himself a brandy.

  “So you can be near her all the time? You have a copy of Beth walking around your house and a portrait of her in the office where you spend the rest of the day.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clay said angrily.

  “Like hell you don’t! I mean that vain, overweight bitch you’ve taken in as a substitute for Beth.”

  Clay’s eyes flashed. He was the taller of the two, a strong, hard man, but Wes was powerfully made. They’d never fought.

  Suddenly, Wes calmed. “Look, Clay, I don’t want to yell. I don’t even want to argue with you. I think you need a friend right now. Can’t you see what you’re doing? That woman looks like Beth. When I first saw her, I thought she was Beth. But she’s not!”

  “I’m aware of that,” Clay said flatly.

  “Are you? You look at her as if she were a goddess, yet have you ever listened to her? She’s about as far removed from Beth as humanly possible. She’s a vain, arrogant hypocrite.”

  The next moment, Clay’s fist came smashing into Wes’s face. Wes reeled against the desk and spun backward where he landed on one of the red leather chairs. He rubbed his jaw and tasted the blood inside his mouth. For a moment he considered going after Clay. Maybe a good fight would knock some sense into his head. At least a fighting Clay was one he recognized.

  “Beth is dead,” Wes whispered. “She and James are dead, and no matter how much you try, nothing is going to bring them back.”

  Clay looked at his friend slumped on the chair, rubbing his jaw. He started to speak but couldn’t. There were too many things to say and too few. He turned and walked out of the room, out of the house, and toward the tobacco fields. Maybe a few hours’ work would help calm him, keep him from thinking of Beth and Nicole—no, of Bianca and Nicole.

  Chapter 10

  THE TREES WERE CHANGING TO THE GLORY OF AUTUMN colors. The reds and golds blazed. Nicole stood on top of a hill that looked down on the mill and her house. Through the trees she could see the sunlight sparkling on clear, rushing water.

  It had been ten days since Wesley Stanford had visited her and more than a month since that horrible night when Bianca had returned to her life. She had thought the hard work of the mill would block him from her mind, but it hadn’t.

  “Enjoying the quiet?”

  Nicole jumped when she heard Clay’s voice. She hadn’t seen him in all the time he’d been with Bianca.

  “Janie told me where you were. I hope I’m not intruding.”

  She turned slowly and looked up at him. The sun was behind his head, making the curling ends of his dark hair golden. He looked tired and older. There were deep circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. “No,” she smiled. “You weren’t intruding. Are you well? Is your tobacco harvested?”

  His mouth changed from a hard line to a soft smile. He sat down on the ground, stretched out on it, and stared up at the sky through a brilliant tree of red-gold leaves. He seemed to relax instantly. Just being near Nicole made him feel better. “Your mill seems to be doing well. I came over to ask a favor of you. Ellen and Horace Backes are giving a party for us. It’s a real Virginia party, lasting at least three days, and you and I are the guests of honor. Ellen wants to welcome my wife to the community.”

  When Clay stretched out at Nicole’s feet, his long legs extended, his muscles straining against the open shirt, she felt as if she were going to melt. She wanted to sink to the ground beside him and put her cheek against that brown skin. He was sweaty from the fields, and she could almost taste the salt of him as she imagined kissing his throat. But when she saw him relax near her, her impulse changed—she wanted to kick him. Her body felt like it was on fire, but he acted as if he’d just entered the peace and quiet of his mother’s house.

  It took a moment for her to understand his words. “I guess it would be rather embarrassing for you to have to tell Ellen that I refuse to go, wouldn’t it?”

  He looked up at her with one eye open. “She has met you and knows we’re married.”

  “But she doesn’t know that we won’t be married very long.”

  Nicole turned away to start down the hill, but Clay grabbed her ankle. She stumbled and fell forward onto her hands and knees. He sat up, put his hands under her arms, and lifted her.

  “Why are you getting mad at me? I haven’t seen you for weeks, and when I do I invite you to a party. It seems you should be pleased instead of angry.”

  She couldn’t very well tell him that his calmness made her angry. She sat back on the grass, away from his hands. “It just doesn’t seem right that we should appear publicly as husband and wife when in a few months the marriage will be annulled. It seems you’d want to go with Bianca and tell everyone about the silly error. I’m sure it would make a wonderful story.”

  “Ellen’s met you,” he said stubbornly. He had no answer for her questions. All he knew was that the prospect of spending three days—and nights—with her made him happy for the first time in months. He took her hand from his lap and studied it for a moment. It was so small, so neat and clean, and it could give such pleasure! He raised it to his lips and kissed the soft pads of her fingertips one by one. “Please go,” he said quietly. “All my friends, people I’ve known all my life, will be there. You’ve worked hard the last few months, and you need a holiday.”

  She could feel her bones beginning to melt at the touch of his lips on her fingers, yet a part of her cried out in anger. He was living with another woman, one he said he loved, but he kissed her, touched her, invited her to parties. It made her feel like his mistress, someone kept hidden and used only for pleasure. Yet now he wanted to take her to meet his friends.

  “Clay, please,” she said weakly.

  He nibbled the inside of her wrist. “Will you go?”

  “Yes,” she said faintly, her eyes half closed.

  “Good!” Clay snapped, dropping her hand and standing up. “I’ll pick you and the twins up at five tomorrow morning. And Janie, too. Oh, yes, you’d better bring some food. Maybe something French. If you don’t have everything you need, tell Maggie to get it from the storehouse.” He turned and walked down the hill, whistling.

  “Of all the insufferable—” Nicole began, then smiled. Maybe if she understood him she wouldn’t love him so much.

  Clay was thinking about tomorrow night. He’d be alone with Nicole, sharing a bedroom with her in Horace’s big, rambling house. With that in mind, he could forego a quick tumble on the hillside where anyone could see them.

  As soon as Clay was out of sight, Nicole stood up suddenly. If she was going to have to prepare food for three days, she’d better get started. She started planning as she went down the hill. There’d be chicken baked in Dijon mustard, pâté wrapped in a pastry shell, a cold vegetable mold, cassoulet. And pies! There’d be pumpkin, mincemeat, apple, pear, blackberry. She was out of breath by the time she reached the house.

  “Good morning,” Clay called as he tied the sloop to the wharf on Nicole’s side of the river. He grinned at Nicole and Janie and the twins standing amid several enormous baskets. “I’m not sure the sloop will sail with that much on board, especially after all the food Maggie sent.”

  “I thought she might decide to cook something for you when you told her you were taking Nicole,” Janie said.

  Clayton ignored her as he began handing the baskets to Roger, who stored them in the bottom of the boat. The twins laughed as he literally threw them into Roger’s arms.

  “You seem cheerful this morning,” Janie said. “It makes me almost think you’ve come to your senses.”

  Clay grabbed Janie by the waist and kissed her cheek heartily. “Maybe I have, but if you don’t hush, I’m going to throw you into the boat, too.”

  “Maybe you can throw her,” Roger said loudly and quickly, “but I can gu