Surrender of a Siren (42 page)

Miss Grayson sat down beside her. “I suppose it was in service of the greater good. But the look on Gray’s face when I told him you’d gone … He was—”

“Furious, I’d imagine.”

“No,” Miss Grayson said, surprised. “Not angry at all, just … disappointed, I think. His face went very grim. For all his initial resistance to the sugar cooperative, he must be attached to the idea now.” She beamed at Sophia. “That must be your good influence, Miss Turner.”

Sophia thought it best to change the subject. “This isn’t your bedchamber, is it? I couldn’t put you out, you’ve been so kind.”

Gray had not been exaggerating when he described his sister’s kind nature. Indeed, Bel seemed to Sophia some kind of saint. While Bel had visited her brothers in jail, Sophia had been offered a series of small miracles: a bath in fresh, fragrant, heated water; a feast of tropical fruits and risen bread and unsalted meat; a freshly laundered dress; a soft, clean bed in this bright, airy chamber. If Gray had only been with her, Sophia would have felt welcomed into Heaven.

“No, this isn’t my bedchamber,” Bel answered. “It was once my mother’s, but no one has used it in years.”

“Has your mother been gone so long, then?” From what Gray had told her, she’d thought Bel’s mother had died more recently.

“She died a little over a year ago. But we had to move her from this room several years earlier, when she first took ill.” Bel opened a door between the windows, and beckoned Sophia. “Come have a look.”

Sophia stepped through the door and emerged onto a stone-tiled portico framed by a Grecian colonnade. Beyond the railing, a lush, green valley fell away from the house, the hillsides blanketed with fields. In the distance, two craggy mountains framed a wedge of ocean blue. “How beautiful,” she breathed. “I can see all the way to the harbor.”

“Yes. It’s a lovely vista. Transporting house hold goods to the top of a mountain isn’t especially convenient, but one can’t complain in the face of such grandeur.”

“Why did you move your mother to a different chamber?” she asked. “I should think this vista would cure all manner of ills.”

“Perhaps, for some. Though in my mother’s case, the risk was too great.” She gave Sophia a melancholy smile. “She suffered an attack of brain fever, you see, when I was just a girl. She survived, in body—but her mind was never quite the same. For the rest of her life, she was prone to fits of … unpredictability. For her safety, we moved her to a room facing the mountainside, below-stairs.”

Sophia bent and peered down over the rail at the mossy limestone boulders below. It was a long way down. To think, Bel had grown up concerned that her mother would fling herself off this portico? If her own mother stood in the same place, she would think only of hanging draperies. Sophia felt a sudden swell of gratitude for her boring, sheltered childhood.

“The land you see below used to be my father’s plantation. Now the family owns only the house.”

“Were you angry, when Gray sold it?”

Bel turned to her. “But how would you know about—” Her eyes widened with understanding. “Ah, I can guess. My brothers are still fighting?” She shook her head. “He did the right thing, selling the plantation. Joss would have done the same. As would I have done, if these matters were ever placed in ladies’ hands.”

Below them, dusk painted the valley purple with shadow. Sophia gathered the borrowed shawl about her shoulders. “But I don’t understand. If Gray and Joss were in agreement then, why do they keep arguing now, over the sugar cooperative?”

“Why do men argue over anything?” Shrugging, Bel continued, “I wish I’d never suggested using the privateering money. My brothers have drawn such lines over the notion, and now neither will back down. It’s nothing but a source of acrimony. Now the cooperative’s coming to pass anyway, thanks to mission-minded Christians like you, and Mr. Wilson.”

Sophia chewed her lip. And when it was revealed that she was not a mission-minded Christian and the cooperative did not come to pass— would Gray and Joss keep arguing then? But she couldn’t worry about that now.

Bel asked, “Are you sure we should not tell Mr. Wilson you’ve arrived?”

“No,” Sophia blurted out. “Not if he’s advising your brothers. I must seem perfectly impartial, you see.” That was all she needed, for this poor Mr. Wilson to contradict her story—or worse, become entangled in her deceit.

Bel stared at her hands, loosely linked on the railing. “He wants to marry me. Mr. Wilson, I mean.”

Sophia felt a pang of disappointment on Gray’s behalf. “Of course he does,” she said, forcing a playful tone, wondering how this young woman could be unaware of her beauty and its power over men. Didn’t she know she might marry whomever she pleased? “What man would not wish to marry you?”

“Perhaps men desire me, but desire is not a foundation for marriage.” Bel crossed her arms over her breasts in a self-conscious gesture.

Ah. She was not so unaware after all.

Sophia asked, “Do you wish to marry Mr. Wilson?”

“I don’t know. He is a kind, decent man, and we share a dedication to charity. We would make a good life together. I don’t love him, if that’s what you’re asking. But then, I don’t wish to marry for love.”

Sophia laid a hand on Bel’s wrist. “You deserve to be loved. And that is all Gray wishes to give you. You needn’t marry the first man to offer you companionship and a home. Your brother would gladly provide for all your needs. He wants so desperately to make you happy.”

Bel sighed. “He wants to take me to London, dress me up in silks and jewels, and parade me before the aristocracy—the very people who profit from every instance of human misery on this island. How could that make me happy?”

Sophia fell silent for a moment, watching the clouds turn vibrant shades of pink and orange in the glow of the setting sun. “I do sympathize with you. More than you know.”

Of course, she had fled England for much the same reason that Bel resisted leaving her home. Neither of them wanted to be put on display, forced into marriage at their guardians’ behest. But now Sophia understood that Gray’s plans had nothing to do with currying society’s favor and everything to do with his deep love for his sister, and his desire to give her the best life he could. It was impossible not to wonder—had her parents wanted the same for her? Had their misguided, social-climbing machinations truly been born of love?

Perhaps. But now she would never know.

“Miss Grayson, please promise me one thing. After tomorrow, promise me you will sit down with Gray and tell him …” Sophia stopped. She had meant to say,
tell him honestly what you’ve told me, tell him all your hopes and dreams. And then listen to him, allow him to explain his dreams for you, for the family
.

But really, there was only one thing Gray needed to hear—and then the rest would fall into place. The same words that could have changed everything for her.

“Tell him you love him,” she said. “He needs to hear it.”

“Of course I will.”

“You must promise me.”

Bel smiled. “I promise you.”

“Good.” Sophia squeezed Bel’s arm before releasing it.
Good
. A sense of relief descended on her as evening turned tonight. With that promise, she felt a certainty that tomorrow everything would be set right. So long as Gray knew he had his sister’s unconditional love.

Now, Sophia just needed to do her part: making sure he lived to hear it.

By the break of dawn, Gray knew he was a dead man. One way or another.

He’d paced the cell’s perimeter all night, his thoughts circling like his feet. She was gone, he knew it. He felt it. It was still within his power to trace her, with ships and men and gold at his disposal. But dead men typically didn’t have those resources.

What was he going to do? He could argue his case, make a defense.

Morally and legally, Gray knew he was in the right. But if Fitzhugh was truly determined to make him an example, the facts mattered little. His fate would already be sealed. And Gray’s fate was not just his, but Bel’s, and Jacob’s, and Joss’s. Could he gamble his entire family’s future on an attempt at freedom, on this slim hope of finding her?

Crouching to the floor, he nudged his brother awake. “Joss.
Joss
.”

Joss stirred and rubbed his eyes. “What do you want, Gray?”

“I want you to listen to me. I’ve been thinking about this all night. When we ’re in this hearing today, I want you to let me do the talking.”

“Do I ever have a choice?” Joss stretched. “I don’t expect either one of us will be offered much opportunity for speech-making. Don’t count on charming your way out of this one.”

“I’m not planning to charm
my
way out of anything. It’s your skin I’m trying to save. I mean it Joss, not a word. There are papers, already drawn up in England. The business, the ships—if I die, my will leaves it all to you. There are trusts for Bel and Jacob.” Gray let his head fall back against the stone wall and rubbed his temples. “Had it drawn up the same time as the partnership papers. I was hoping you’d sign them this year.”

“Now I’m awake.” Joss’s eyebrows lifted. “What are you on about? Don’t turn martyr on me, Gray.”

“I can’t risk both of us dying, Joss. Don’t you understand? Where would that leave Bel and Jacob?” Gray rose and began to pace the cell with agitation. “One of us needs to walk out of here alive, for them. I’ve decided to plead guilty in exchange for your freedom, and that of the crew. I’ll say you objected, but I coerced you into engaging the ship. Beyond that … you never boarded the
Kestrel
, Joss. They’ve got no evidence against you. So just keep quiet and play along.”

“You mean play dumb. You mean play the ignorant Negro incapable of thinking for himself.” He drew his knees to his chest and stacked his arms atop them. “Is that what you mean, Gray?”

“No.” Gray stopped pacing. He looked his brother in the eye. “Yes, Joss. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Joss stared at the floor for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? You can’t possibly say no.”

“I assure you, I can. And I believe I just did.” Joss stood, brushing his trousers clean as he rose to his feet. “Here, let me demonstrate the possibility again.
No
.”

“You’d rather hang?” Gray crossed the small cell in two paces, coming toe-to-toe with his brother. “Joss, you have a child who needs you. A sister who needs you. Hell, I’m your brother—and I need you, too. I need you to take care of them for me.”

“I won’t do it, Gray.”

“Damn it. I’d never have dreamed you could be this selfish, to sacrifice your own son’s security for the sake of your pride.”

“It’s not just my pride you’re asking me to sacrifice. It’s my dignity. My humanity, for God’s sake. I’d rather Jacob grow up a pirate’s orphan than the son of a slave.”

“You were never a slave.”

“You know what I mean. I want my son to make his own way in the world, with his own wits and courage. What example do I give him if I swear before God and England that I can’t be held responsible for my own actions?”

Gray turned on his heel and strode to the far corner of the cell. He braced one arm against the wall and covered his face with the other hand, trying to concentrate.

Damn it all to hell
. Joss and his stubborn, foolish pride. Gray had to convince him—someway, somehow. They couldn’t both die. He simply couldn’t allow it to happen. The very idea of Bel and Jacob left alone in the world made his limbs go numb.

Joss cleared his throat. “You’ve been trying to manage my life for years now, Gray. If you’re suddenly in the mood to make a grand sacrifice, do me this favor: For once, let me be my own man.”

The anger in his brother’s voice stiffened Gray’s spine. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve given me no choice in any of this. You sold my home out from under me and forced me out on the sea the first time. You knew I wanted to settle here after … after Jacob was born, but you dragged me back out again. If I’m going to die, at least let me go to my grave with a shred of autonomy.”

Now Gray was angry, too. “You love the sea, Joss. I know you do. At least you did, before Mara died and took the best half of you with her.” He saw his brother wince at the mention of his wife. Good. It was long past time they stopped mincing around it. “We had plans. We were supposed to be partners. You’re the one who went back on his word, decided he’d rather dig in the dirt and indulge this ridiculous scheme of Bel’s.”

“It isn’t a ridiculous scheme.”

“Come now, a sugar cooperative?” Gray scoffed. “One season, and you’ d be bankrupt. And then how is your son supposed to respect his father, the sharecropper? How is anyone going to respect you?”

“Here’s a better question. Why doesn’t my own brother respect me? You’ ve never once trusted me to make my own decisions.”

“That’s because you make stupid decisions!”

Joss glared at him. He took a slow breath before continuing. “No, it’s not. It’s because you’re forcing me into a life I don’t want, just to assuage your own guilt. It’s because you’re legitimate, and I’m a bastard. It’s because you ’re white, and I’m black.”

“Damn you, Joss. It’s because we’re brothers. Stop trying to make every argument about our disparities. You’re my little brother, and I’ve a God-given right to care about you.” Gray ran both hands through his hair. “We had fun all those years, chasing down packet ships. Things were good between us, until Mara died. We had plans. You reneged on them and made me the villain. Is it really so terrible, that I want something better for you, for our family?”