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

The man looked uneasy. “It’ll have to be now, Gray.” He made a motion to the two men in back, and they stepped forward, holding a pair of shackles between them.

Gray took a step back. “Surely there’s no need for chains.” He looked from one soldier to another. “I’m a patriot. I brought more than sixty prizes into this harbor and surrendered them all to the Crown. Burton knows that.”

“Burton’s been gone eight months. The new judge—he’s called Fitzhugh —well, he wants you brought in wearing chains, public-like. Fond of display, this one.” Jenkins shuffled his feet. “We’ll leave the shackles loose. Just come willingly, Gray. Let’s not make it an ugly display.”

Gray swore with exasperation, but he didn’t resist. Stepping a few yards back, he held out his hands. Jenkins directed the two younger soldiers as they fitted metal bands around his wrists.

Sophia touched Miss Grayson’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” she whispered, as much to herself as to her companion. “He’s done nothing wrong.”

“I know.” The young lady sniffed. “Dolly always finds a way out of these things.”

“Who’s Dolly?”

“Why, my brother.”

Sophia blinked. Was there a third Grayson brother with square-tipped ears?

“You probably call him Gray,” the young lady continued, giving her a cautious smile. “Most people do.”

Dolly was Gray? Oh dear. No wonder his sister was the sole lady on earth permitted to address him by his Christian name.

The soldiers began shackling his legs now, working awkwardly to fit the bands around Gray’s ankles.

“I thought his name was Benedict,” Sophia murmured.

“Oh it is, but that was our father’s name. He’s always gone by his middle name, Adolphus. Dolly.” Miss Grayson turned to her. “You know my brother quite well, then. Forgive me the lapse in etiquette, we haven’t even been introduced.” She dropped a little curtsy. “I’m Isabel Grayson. Were you a passenger on the Kestrel?”

“No, I left England on the Aphrodite. Didn’t Joss mention me?”

Miss Grayson shook her head. “We didn’t have much time to speak. But if Dolly says I’ll be glad to meet you, I have a fair guess …” Suddenly she grasped Sophia’s hand. “You must be one of Mr. Wilson’s friends, with the West Indian Missions League. I’m so glad you’ve come. We’ve so many plans for the sugar cooperative. And we can take you to the judge. Even if he won’t believe Dolly, surely he cannot discount the testimony of a missionary.”

A missionary? Sophia’s mind whirled. Of all the preposterous assumptions … oh, but if only it were true. Then she might have been some help to Gray. But she, a fallen woman, a liar and a thief, walking into a courtroom to speak on his behalf? She could do his cause nothing but harm.

Oh God. He was better off without her.

Finally, the soldiers finished their task. At the sight of her brother in chains, Miss Grayson began to weep.

“All right, Jenkins,” Gray muttered, his voice seething. “I’m wearing your shackles. I’ll come willingly. Surely you can spare me a minute first.” At the command in his eyes, the men fell back a few paces.

Gray turned to his sister. “Bel,” he said quietly, “there’s a handkerchief in my breast pocket. Take it.” She obeyed, and wiped her eyes. He smiled down at her. “Now is this any way to greet your prodigal brother? I’d planned to come home a respectable tradesman.” He glanced toward Sophia. “Not just that, but a family man. Instead, I stand before you as a pirate in chains.”

He laughed, but Sophia wanted to cry. Once again, his best efforts at brotherhood had been twisted and distorted by fate. She could see in his expression how it wounded him. The thought of tainting Miss Grayson’s prospects, being the cause of that pain …

“Just the same,” he teased his sister, “I’d rather hoped for a kiss.”

Miss Grayson gave him a tremulous smile and went up on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s better. Now don’t worry. I’ll have this straightened out directly.” His eyes went back and forth between Sophia and his sister. “In the meantime, the two of you can become acquainted.” He rattled his chains, adding a self-deprecating roll of his eyes. Then he walked a few paces back, toward the men.

Sophia’s dizziness increased, and the dock seemed to roll beneath her again. She felt as though she would become ill, or fall. And with Gray chained like a criminal, who would catch her?

She closed her eyes. If she ran now … he couldn’t catch her. She had to go. If she were a better person, a good person, she might have gathered the courage to tell the truth and accept her fate. She might have even been able to help him. But if she were a good person, she would not have been here in the first place. She didn’t know how to change her colors, any more than a dolphin-fish knew how to change its iridescent scales.

She knew how to lie. She knew how to run.

There was only one way she could set Gray free.

She rushed after him as he ambled down the dock, joking with his captors.