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

“An example …” Fitzhugh spoke in a slow tone of discovery. “Of honor?”


“She’s a liar!” Mr. Brackett pushed to the front of the room, carving his way through the assembly with his blade-thin nose and sharp elbows. “She’s a liar and a whore. They’re lovers, she and Grayson. Her whole story is a falsehood, fabricated to save his miserable neck.”

Sophia’s heart seized. The crowd held its breath. Please don’t ask it, she silently implored the judge. It felt so good to finally stand before Gray, these men, the world, and tell the truth. Could she bring herself to deny him now, even to save his life? Please, just don’t ask.

“Miss Hathaway?” The judge adjusted his spectacles and peered at her.

“What, precisely, is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Grayson?”

“My … relationship?” Turning away, Sophia closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. I’m sorry, she mouthed to Gray. He gave her a barely perceptible nod, his expression hard. He was wiping all emotion from his face, expecting her denial.

She had to say it; she had no choice. “I love him.”

Surprise melted the ice in his gaze. Soon his eyes were shining with approval. Approval, and love.

Her heart soared. For this one moment, they loved each other, and the rest of the world could go hang. “I love him,” she repeated, simply because she could. Because it was the truth.

Now the truth was out, suspended in the humid silence—a sketch of it, at least. It still remained within Sophia’s ability to shade it. Collecting herself, she took advantage of the stunned pause. “As is my Christian duty, your honor. To say I felt anything less for him would be not only a falsehood, but a sacrilege.”

The judge scratched his wig.

“No,” Brackett protested. “She’s a liar, I tell you!”

“I assure you, I speak only the truth. What motive do I have to lie?”

Sophia tugged on her glove, working her fingers into the slender tips.

“Indeed, I have come to care deeply for many of the men in this courtroom. But anyone who would insinuate that I give this truthful testimony in hopes of resuming some relationship with Mr. Grayson, friendly or otherwise, would be mistaken. I esteem the man, your honor. I admire him greatly, and his example of honesty and courage has altered the course of my life. But beyond today, I do not expect to ever meet with him again.”

Gray took a step forward. “You can’t mean—”

Sophia froze him with a look. “Yes, Mr. Grayson, I mean that my mission here has already been completed.”

He stared at her, clearly baffled. Adorably so.

“Since leaving England, I have resolved to never marry,” she said, directing her statement at the judge, “but to devote my fortune to charity. I have twenty thousand pounds, you see—or I shall have in a matter of days, when I reach my majority. It was to have been my dowry, but this very morning I have pledged it toward the purchase of Eleanora plantation from Mr. George Waltham, to establish a sugar cooperative for freedmen.”

“A sugar cooperative?” Gray and Fitzhugh spoke as one.

There. Now Gray and Joss had nothing further to argue over, no years-old dispute to drive them apart. They could start over, sit down and discuss their future with open minds and open hearts. It was likely too late for Sophia’s own family, but she could not pass up this chance to heal theirs.

“Mr. Wilson and Miss Grayson can provide you with any evidence you may require on that matter.” She folded her handkerchief. “As for me, I fear I must be going.”

“Going?” Again, Gray and Fitzhugh spoke in unison, and each glared at the other, clearly annoyed.

“Now that my mission has been completed, I must return to England. I have given only earnest money, you see, some six hundred pounds. The rest of the transaction must be completed in London. And I … I must return to my family, though I do not know how they will receive me. After this adventure, I doubt I shall be received by even my closest friends. Most certainly not by the likes of Mr. Grayson’s family.” He had to understand this, the reason she must leave.

“Mr. Grayson’s family?” the judge asked.

“Didn’t you know? Your honor, he is the nephew of a duke. I played cards with his aunt, the Duchess of Aldonbury, every third Wednesday.” She gave Gray a cautious look. “Her granddaughter, Lady Clementina Morton, was at school with me. I was even so fortunate as to be a guest in their home, your honor, but that is not a plea sure I shall ever have again. Her Grace is a lady of elevated rank and limited forgiveness. Were I the ambitious sort, Mr. Fitzhugh, I should not wish to cross her.”

The judge blanched to the color of parchment.

Sophia busied herself with the cord of her reticule. “No, I shall be ruined in society’s eyes, though my conscience is clear. I must go home and throw myself on the mercy of my family. If they spurn me …” She shrugged.