“Oh! Will he forever plague me?” she whispered aloud, and pressed her hands against her cheeks. They were flaming. He had sworn that he would plague her, she recalled, but she had not thought that it could be in this manner! She didn’t want to think about Eric Cameron, she hated him almost as much as she hated her father this morning. She wanted to hate Robert, but love died a very hard death, and so she hated Eric all the more venomously. For all that he had witnessed, for all that he had caused—and for the horribly shameful way that he made her feel.
She wasn’t going to think about him, that was all. Not now, not ever again. And as much as she loved Sterling Hall, maybe it was time to leave for an extended vacation. Then she wouldn’t have to hear the rumors and whispers when Robert married his duchess.
“Amanda! Amanda!”
She swung around. Danielle was on the porch steps, wiping her hands on her apron, waving to her. Frowning, Amanda waved in return and then hurried toward the house. Danielle’s dark eyes were anxious.“Ma petite, your father is looking for you. He is in his study. You must go now.”
Amanda stiffened. She had no desire to see her father, but such a summons would be difficult to ignore. He had total power over her; he could beat her if he chose, he could send her away. And her only recourse would be to run away.
She squared her shoulders. “Thank you, Danielle. I will see Father now.”
She smoothed down her cotton skirt and composed herself as she walked down the hallway to his office. She knocked on the door, then waited for him to bid her to enter. When he did, she came in and stood before his desk in silence, waiting. An open ledger book lay before him, and he finished with a group of sums before looking up. When he did, his eyes were as cold as lead. He looked her up and down distastefully.
“Make ready for a trip.”
“What?” she said. “I don’t wish to leave—”
“I care nothing for your wishes. I am going to Williamsburg. The governor has asked that I come. And he has especially asked that you come too. You will do so.”
Her heart took flight. He was not attempting to send her out of the country. She just wished that they would not be traveling together.
“Fine. When do we leave?”
“This afternoon. Be ready by three.”
That was it. He turned his attention back to his ledger. Amanda turned around and left his office. Danielle was out in the hall, her deep, beautiful dark eyes full of anxiety again.
“It’s all right,” Amanda told her. “We are leaving this afternoon. For Williamsburg.”
“Am I going with you?”
“I didn’t think to ask. Yes, you must come. It’s the only way I shall be able to—”
“To what?” Danielle prompted her.
“To bear being near him,” Amanda said quietly, then she turned around and hurried for the stairs.
At three she was waiting in the hallway. Timothy and Remy, two of the house slaves, had carried down her trunks. She was dressed in white muslin with a tiny print of maroon flowers and an overcoat of the same color in velvet. The overcoat fell in fashionable loops over her wide-hipped petticoats, then fell gracefully in a short train down the back of her skirt. She wore her delicate pearled pumps and a wide-brimmed straw hat decorated with sweeping plumes. Danielle, behind her, wore a smaller hat and a soft gray cotton dress, but even she had given way to fashion in her choice of petticoat. She was still very beautiful, Amanda thought of Danielle. After all these years.
Her father appeared, looked her over curtly, gave the servants last-minute instructions, and then ordered her into the carriage. He looked at Danielle for a long moment and then shrugged. “No French,” he told her as she climbed up into the carriage. “I won’t hear any of that gibberish, do you hear me?”
“Yes, milord,” Danielle said simply. Her eyes were lowered as they entered the carriage, and a chill shot through the Amanda as she watched the exchange. She was suddenly certain that her father had used Danielle, just as he had used his mistress in Williamsburg, and just as he used the mulatto slave girl. She felt hot and ill, and wished desperately that she would not have to face him for the next several hours as they traveled.
It was a miserable journey, the whole of it passing in near silence. Her father read his paper, scowling constantly. Danielle stared out the window. There had been rain, and the road was pockmarked and heavily grooved. Like the others, Amanda sat in silence. She stared out the window, eager to arrive, eager to be rid of her father’s presence. Not until they neared Williamsburg and passed the College of William and Mary to come down Duke of Gloucester Street and turn onto Market Green did she begin to feel the least bit pleased to have come. Then she leaned back, thinking that her father would be completely occupied, she would be free to shop, to visit friends, to forget some of what happened, and to plan for her own future.
They halted before the governor’s palace. Servants were quick to help them from the carriage and to attend to their luggage. Amanda and her father were ushered into the entrance hallway while Danielle was taken to the servants’ quarters on the third floor. Amanda did not look at her father while they waited, but stared at the impressive weaponry displayed with artistic grandeur upon the walls.
“Ah, Lord Sterling!”
She turned around as John Murray, Earl of Dunmore and the governor of Virginia, came toward them. Lord Dunmore was a tall, striking man with red hair and amber brown eyes and a fiery temperament to match his coloring. Amanda had always liked him. He was imperious but vivid and energetic, and generally kind and most often wise in his dealings with his elected government officials. It was only recently that he seemed to have completely lost his temper with the officials.
He was impeccably dressed in yellow breeches, fawn hose, and a mustard frock coat. His hair was powdered and queued, and his hand, when he took Amanda’s, was as soft as pigskin. He smiled at her as he kissed her hand. “Lady Amanda, but you have grown to be a true beauty! You grace our very presence. The countess will be so sorry that she missed you!”
“Thank you, milord,” she murmured, retrieving her hand. “Is your wife not here?”
“She is not feeling well this afternoon.” He smiled with pleasure. “We are expecting a child, as you might have heard.”
“I had not, milord, but I am delighted, of course.”
