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

Fitzhugh cocked an eyebrow. “And all this with no provocation.”


“None whatsover.”

Gray tightened his fist until his knuckles cracked. Behind him, the crewmen of the Aphrodite and Kestrel grumbled loudly in protest. With a sharp look over his shoulder, he quelled the dissent.

Next to him, Joss nudged Mr. Wilson. “Lying bastard. Ask him about the storm,” he whispered. “The fire. The rum.”

“Don’t.” Gray cleared his throat. “He’ll only spin more lies. And this court isn’t interested in the truth. No more than it was when we brought in ships we’d seized. Judges in this court care only for the prize.”

“But there’s no prize at stake here,” Joss argued.

“Oh, there is. It’s just not a ship.”

The judge finished his questioning of Mallory, then turned to Gray. “Mr. Grayson, please stand.”

“Joss,” Gray murmured. “I shouldn’t have forced you into taking the Aphrodite. It’s my fault you’re here, and I’m going to fix it. Take the money, do what ever makes you happy. Sell the ships, plant sugarcane—”

“What are you on about?” Joss whispered. “Don’t do something stupid, Gray.”

“Mr. Grayson,” Fitzhugh called out, impatient. “You will stand.”

Gray whispered to his brother, “I’m not doing anything stupid. For once, I’m doing something right.” He pushed back his chair and stood, bringing himself to eye level with the judge seated at the elevated bench. Fitzhugh couldn’t have been much older than Joss. Sallow, thin, and sweating profusely from under his wig, he appeared ill-adjusted to the tropical climate. He had the look of a boy in a man’s attire—a boy who’d been on the losing end of many a schoolboy brawl. Presumably in an attempt to appear older, or perhaps wiser, he affected an overly stern mien that belonged to a caricature. But it was the look in Fitzhugh’s eyes that amused Gray. Anticipation, laced with awe. No doubt the judge had heard tales about him; Gray’s privateering success had been a matter of local pride.

Gray didn’t expect the measure of reverence in Fitzhugh’s gaze would work to his advantage, however. Rather, he suspected it would make the judge all the more eager to see Gray brought low. He was the seafaring equivalent of the school bully, and this was Fitzhugh’s chance to finally beat one down.

Just to provoke him further, Gray spoke first. “This is an informal hearing, I understand. This court has no power to convict on charges of piracy.”

Fitzhugh’s eyes narrowed within their round wire frames. “Not alone, Mr. Grayson. It does, in concert with the governor.”

“Who would be most displeased to be summoned from Antigua without sufficient cause.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Fitzhugh replied, “That is the purpose of this hearing today, Mr. Grayson. To establish sufficient cause.” The judge scowled at him, and Gray nearly laughed. For all his facial acrobatics, Fitzhugh had already ceded control of their conversation. The courtroom was Gray’s to command.

He relaxed his posture and allowed himself a grin. “You look familiar to me, Mr. Fitzhugh. I believe we must have met at Oxford?”

The judge harrumphed. “I sincerely doubt it.”

“Ah. Not an Oxford man, then. Cambridge?”

“Edinburgh.”

“Oh. Edinburgh. I suppose now the war’s over, the Admiralty’s relaxing its standards?” Gray studied him. “Still, your face is so familiar to me. Did we meet in Town? At White’s, perhaps.”

“No.” Fitzhugh’s mouth thinned to a line. “Not that it’s of any relevance, but I am certain we have never been introduced, Mr. Grayson.”

“Not a member of White’s then? Pity. Well, I must be mistaking you for someone else.” He watched a flush seep out from beneath Fitzhugh’s wig.

“At any rate, I’ve been friendly with every judge to pass through this post in recent years, and I see no reason you should be different. I trust we may speak as gentlemen, seeing as how this is an informal proceeding.”

“Actually, this—”

“I do understand your predicament, Mr. Fitzhugh. A great deal of wealth changed hands in this courtroom once. Plenty of excitement, during the war. A judge could build a reputation on it, not to mention a fortune. But now… what sort of matters come before you? Insurance claims? Difficult to distinguish yourself with those cases. Your superiors are likely to forget about you completely. You may find yourself in this post for the remainder of your days.” He chuckled at Fitzhugh’s chagrined expression. “Oh, don’t despair. With luck, a fever will take you before you die of boredom.”