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

“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 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.