Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)(103)

“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 br**sts 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 yourhopes and dreams. And then listen to him, allow him to explain hisdreams 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.”