She hurried along. He threw open a door on the southern side of the passage. She stepped into a huge room with a mahogany sleigh bed and Persian carpets on the polished wood floor. Huge grand windows opened to a river view, and there was a massive fireplace to warm one, a fine carved table with two elegant French brocade chairs to face the windows. It was a room fit for a princess, finer than the governor’s room at the palace.
“Will this suffice?” he asked her.
She nodded, then lowered her head. He had turned to speak with Danielle. “Mam’selle, you are just down the hall, there.”
The open door awaited her and Danielle smiled, thanked him, and hurried forward with delight. Amanda still had her head down but she could feel him near her, the very crisp clean fabric of his clothing, the pleasant scent of good tobacco and brandy and leather, and something subtle, something with which he apparently bathed. And there was his own scent, vibrantly masculine. She moistened her lips and turned to him. He was watching her, his hands folded behind his back, his eyes unreadable.
“Where is your room, Lord Cameron?” she asked him.
He arched a brow politely, then smiled. “Through the wardrobe, Lady Sterling.” He watched with amusement as she paled, then added, “You have a key, of course.”
“Of—course.”
“But then, one wonders why you are so interested. Are you concerned about my whereabouts, or my belongings?”
“I’m not concerned—”
“You are, so please, spare us both, and quit lying. Search to your heart’s content, but take care. If I find you too close to my bed, I might be tempted to believe that you wish to lie upon it. Pride, my love, dies hard.”
“I imagine, for yours is monstrously large.”
“Perhaps with just cause.”
“You do flatter yourself.”
“Do I? I think not. I do believe that I know you better than you know yourself, and therefore I am at an advantage.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her no chance. He bowed and turned away, then paused at the door.
“Richard will come to escort you to tea. You’ll need to meet Cassidy, my valet, and let’s see, Margaret will furnish you and Danielle with anything you need. From then on, milady, you shall be on your own. And, my lovely little spy, it will be quite fascinating to see where your—delicate—steps do lead you.”
“Never too close!” she called after him. “Never so close as to be…”
“Caught?” he inquired pleasantly. His eyes leisurely drifted to her, and he smiled. “You are in check already.”
“I do not concede the game!”
“Ah, trust me. You will.”
He turned then and was gone.
VIII
Amanda did not take long to inspect her room, though a high excitement had risen in her, just being there. She loved the gracious manor, the view of the river beyond her windows, the exquisite sense of freedom. She didn’t understand it. She was there under false pretenses, playing a dangerous game with a dangerous man. But she was far away from Nigel Sterling, and at the moment that seemed enough.
A pitcher had been filled with clean fresh water and a bowl and towel and sponge had been left for her arrival. She washed quickly, smoothed her hair with the silver-handled brush upon the dressing table, and quickly turned for the door. She hesitated just a moment. There was a door at the far rear of the room. She couldn’t resist it.
A key was set within the lock. She had the ability to lock him out of the room. She smiled and then twisted the key. Then she pushed open the door and entered his room.
Here, too, long windows looked out on the sloping lawn and down to the river and the docks and warehouses. The sun streamed in beautifully, the river breeze lifted the light curtains under their heavier velvet backers. His bed seemed huge; it was four-postered, and hewn of a wood as dark as the man. But the room was not at all dark. It was exceptionally large and, though masculine by nature, it also had a sweeping elegance, as if it would welcome the partnership of a woman. The mantel was large also, with fine molded woodwork. Candles in elegant silver holders awaited the fall of night as did beautiful glass lamps. A small cherrywood table sat before the windows, catching the fall of the sun. A large braided rug added warmth to the polished wood floor, and the armoires and dressing tables that rimmed the walls were even finer than the furnishings she had seen in his Williamsburg town house. There also seemed to be a scent on the air. A scent of fine Virginia tobacco, rich leather, and a touch of men’s cologne. It was a haunting scent, arresting.
Like the man.
Amanda felt color rise to her cheeks and she quickly exited the room, forgetting that she was supposed to be a spy of sorts and that spies do not flush and retreat when they fall upon the very core of their search. Still, she hurried into her own room and closed the connecting door between the rooms, breathing deeply. Irritation rose high within her. Her father was such a fool! Damn his fascination with Cameron. What man these days did not wonder what the next years would bring? But, of course, it was true, she knew. Cameron was in sympathy with the rogues, saving the fellow in Boston, meeting with the burgesses in the Apollo Room at the Raleigh Tavern. But she had heard that Colonel Washington himself had been dismayed at the events in Boston, saying that the destruction of property could not be justified. But even with the House dissolved Washington was still engaged in meetings, and he had been elected to attend the Continental Congress. And Lord Fairfax, loyalist to the core, called Washington a great man, a pride of the Crown. Life was in a whirlwind. Nothing was as simple as black and white anymore.
She pushed away from the door, wondering if she was trying to excuse Eric Cameron within her own mind. She told herself that it could not be true, yet she was suddenly running away from herself and toward her next meeting with the man.
She did literally run, past the pictures in the wide gallery and to the sweeping stairway. Once she reached the upper bannister she paused, for a man was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. He was as tall as Cameron and so black as to be ebony. He stood as straight as an arrow, and he was dressed in a handsome uniform that enhanced his startling color. He was regal, she thought, and wondered that such a word could come to her in reference to a slave.
