Camille was seated in the shade of a giant spreading oak, looking lovelier than any woman ought to in a sky-blue frock and matching straw hat, while sitting on the bench next to her, standing behind her, and kneeling on the ground at her feet were well over a dozen young men, planters' sons every one. The only redeeming factor in the picture that so frustrated Adam was that several women were there, too, clutching tightly to their sweethearts' arms and appearing none too happy about the sudden appearance of this new rival in the Tidewater. Too bad he couldn't tell those nervous belles that their fears were misplaced, Adam thought, and tell Camille's fawning entourage that their hopes were for naught. He certainly had been tempted to do just that many times already, and there was still the long evening ahead of him. She had been surrounded like this since the carriages had first begun arriving at Briarwood shortly before noon, starting first in the main hall where she had greeted her guests, then in the drawing room and adjoining dining room where light refreshments had been served while a sumptuous picnic dinner was being set up outside.
