He nodded toward his ship, moored on the other side of the harbor. “Probably arrived a few days ago now, so they’ll be looking for our arrival. I wouldn’t be surprised to see Bel waiting on the dock.”
“I hope she is not there.” The words popped out. She ventured a glance at him, meeting with the expected frown.
“Why?” he asked. “I thought you looked forward to meeting her.”
“I do,” Sophia lied. “It’s just, I don’t feel ready, dressed like this. I should like to make a better first impression.”
Gray looked resplendent indeed this morning, fitted out in a crisp lawn shirt, dove-gray trousers, and a royal blue coat that barely contained his massive shoulders. He must have been saving the outfit for just this occasion, his triumphant homecoming. Sophia felt drab and common at his side, dressed in her beleaguered sprigged frock. She, too, had an item of truly splendid attire she might have worn. But the silk gown remained wrapped in tissue at the bottom of her trunk. If she was truly going to do this—tell Gray the whole truth and give him a chance to let her go—well, to look that beautiful hardly seemed fair.
“Shall I introduce you as Jane, then?” He gave her a bemused look. “I can’t even think of you as Jane. It’s the wrong name for you entirely.”
Sophia’s hands curled into fists. He was giving her the perfect opportunity. She might as well do it now. “That’s because it’s not my name.”
His jaw tightened, and his thumb ceased stroking her palm. In an instant, a wall of ice had formed between them.
Sophia forced herself to speak. “It’s my middle name. You see, I … I …” Her courage failed. “My family always used my middle name.”
His hard expression melted to a grin. “Another thing we have in common.” He slid an arm about her waist, drawing her close.
Cursing her cowardice, Sophia leaned against him. Just the thought of it … telling him everything, watching him struggle to choose between her and his dreams … She felt her bonnet ribbons constricting about her throat, cutting off her air. Desperation tugged at her, urging her to flee.
But this was not London. Tortola was so small, so un-crowded, so unfamiliar to her and known to Gray. From the boat she could see the settlement of Road Town rising up from the harbor like an amphitheater, all the largest buildings crowded near the water. People milled about the docks, nearly all of them shades of brown or ebony. How could a female, fair-skinned interloper like her possibly hope to disappear? Where would she turn, if he let her go?
The Walthams. She had this one connection. Perhaps they were still here. She could claim her acquaintance with Lucy. Better yet, she could claim to be Lucy. She still had the original letter, after all.
His confident baritone caressed her ear. “Don’t be nervous. You’re beautiful. I’m so proud of you, I think my coat will burst from it.”
“It’s lovely here,” she said, wanting to change the subject.
“I suppose it is, to a newcomer. Though it’s only home for me.”
Sophia didn’t think she could ever greet such a sight with indifference, even after de cades. The lush, verdant island rimmed with white sand, set against a backdrop of azure sky … it would take her dozens of attempts to render these brilliant colors faithfully.
“Yes, there she is,” Gray said as they neared the dock. “I think she’s grown two inches since I saw her last.” Releasing Sophia’s waist, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Bel!”
A young woman stood on the dock. She wore no bonnet, but shielded her eyes with both hands. At Gray’s salute, she dropped one to her throat and raised the other in a wave.
From this distance, Sophia couldn’t judge whether Miss Grayson had her father’s ears, but her coloring was vastly different from either of her brothers’. She had olive skin and jet-black hair, so black it reflected a bluish gloss from the sky.
Heavens, Sophia thought as they docked. Miss Grayson was a true beauty. Hers was an exotic, medieval, operatic beauty—a beauty that radiated from within. The kind of beauty that inspired men to compose odes and wage wars, and inspired ladies to make unkind comments in retiring rooms. No wonder Gray would do anything for her.
How could Sophia ever withstand comparison to this creature? Drat. She should have worn the silk after all.
The young lady ran to meet their boat at the end of the dock. Her breathless greeting preempted any introductions. “Oh, thank God.” She gulped for air. “Thank God you’ve arrived. They’re coming for you, you know. They’ve already taken Joss.” Her hand fluttered like a bird’s wing. “Dolly, there’s talk of hanging.”
Dear Lord, had she just said—
“Hanging?” Gray helped Sophia out of the boat, then bounded onto the dock. He took his sister by the shoulders. “Bel, calm down. Tell me what’s happened.”
Miss Grayson swallowed hard. “When Joss brought the Aphrodite in, that horrid man … the other captain—”
“Mallory,” Gray supplied impatiently.
“Yes, him. He went to the Vice Admiralty court and accused you of attacking him, taking his ship by force. They’ve put Joss in jail, and they’re coming for you.” She glanced over her shoulder. A trio of disconcertingly large men strode toward them. “They’re charging you both with piracy.”
At the word, Sophia went queasy. The dock lurched under her. She was on solid land now—or solid wood, at any rate—why did it still feel as though she were at sea?
Gray did not seem perturbed in the least. “I was expecting this. Mallory’s nothing but a lying bilge rat, Bel. I’ll have it straightened out in a minute, you’ll see.” He smiled at Sophia. “And then I’ve someone you’ll be glad to meet.”
Sophia and Miss Grayson barely had time to exchange befuddled looks before the men were upon them.
“Jenkins.” Gray greeted the man in front with a nod. Sophia recognized his posture of effortless authority. “Always a pleasure.”
“Welcome back, Gray. Good to see you, too.” The man’s gaze shifted to his companions, then back to Gray.
“What can I do for you, man? My sister tells me there’s been a misunderstanding about the Kestrel.”
“Seems so,” Jenkins said. “Gray, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us straightaway. We’ve orders to hold you until the judge has a chance to question you and decide on charges.”
“There won’t be any charges,” Gray said, chuckling. “But I’ll be glad to come, just as soon as I’ve seen to my passengers and crew.”
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.
“Gray,” she whispered, clutching his bound wrist.
“Don’t be anxious, sweet,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. “I know these men. I’ve lined their pockets for years. They’re not going to hang me. I’ll have it all sorted out soon enough.”
“I’m certain you will.” She swallowed back a wave of nausea. “But … I won’t be here when you do.” He deserved this much, to hear it from her. Just as Toby had deserved the same. Gray was right. She didn’t regret the things she’d done, but what she’d left undone.
He tensed. “What do you mean?”
“I have to leave.”
He stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“My courses came,” she whispered. “There’ll be no child.”
“You know that’s not the reason—”
“No, it’s not the reason. It’s not why I’m leaving.”
His expression hardened to anger. “What the devil are you saying?”
Be strong, she told herself. Cut the line cleanly; don’t dangle false hope. “I just have to leave. Gray, please don’t make this harder than it is. You don’t understand.”
His hand encircled her wrist, like a cuff. “You’re damned right I don’t understand. And I’ll be damned if I’ll make it easy. Were you lying to me when you agreed to marry me? When you told me you …” He lowered his voice. “When you told me you loved me?”
“It doesn’t matter if I love you.”
He swore violently. “It matters to me.”
Surreptitiously, she wrestled against his grip. She kept her voice low. “Gray, we can’t be together. We just can’t.” She finally wrenched her arm from his grasp and turned away, her gaze dropping to her feet. He made a motion toward her, but the chains cut it short.
“Look at me, damn it,” he growled.
She did. “Gray, I—”
“If you leave me, I will follow you. And I will find you. I’ve the fastest ship on the sea, and boundless determination. I don’t lose what’s mine.” His eyes burned into hers. “I will find you.”
She shook her head. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t try. You won’t find me. You don’t even know my name.”
He flinched. Good. She’d struck a blow.
Soldiers took him by either arm. Gray tried to shake them off. “I’m not done here, damn it.”
“Sorry, Gray,” Jenkins said. “It’s time we took you in. Your sister can visit you at the jail.” He gave Sophia a cautious look. “Don’t know about your sweetheart.”
“I won’t be visiting,” Sophia said. “And I’m not his sweetheart.”
He winced this time, as if she’d dashed saltwater in an open wound.
Tears stung her eyes. She whispered, “Go with them. Don’t let them drag you by the chains. You wouldn’t want Bel to see you that way.”
“Listen to the lady, Gray.”
The men pulled him back a step, and Gray’s feet moved under him. He hesitated, still staring cold fury into her eyes. “We’re not finished. I will find you.” Then he turned and let them lead him away.
Oh, Gray. We were finished before we began.
Miss Grayson came to her side, crying into her brother’s handkerchief. Together they watched him disappear down the dock. The crowd parted around him as the soldiers marched him into a narrow street and out of view.
There, it was done. She’d never hold him again. The pain of it threatened to split her in two.
“Will you be coming with me, Miss … ?” Miss Grayson asked. “I’m so sorry, I never did learn your name.”
Sophia turned to the young woman. The irony twisted in her heart. Hathaway, Turner, Waltham … She might assume any identity she wished, claim any name for her own.
Any name, that is, save the one she truly wanted.
Mrs. Sophia Grayson.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
“Joss. What the devil is going on?” Gray shuffled into the dank cell. The guard released him from his shackles and left, clanging the door shut and securing the formidable lock.
His brother rose to greet him. “Evidently, we’re pirates.”
“Says Mallory, I gather.”
“Yes.” Joss sank back to a crouch and leaned against the wall. “Swine went for the officers the instant we made port. I should have kept him in the brig until you arrived.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Joss
shrugged. “He kept shouting and spitting. It was damn annoying.” He swiped his cuff across his face. “Besides, I didn’t think they’d pay him any mind. Your reputation is worth gold here, quite literally.”
“It was. Not any longer, I gather.”
“Once the judge hears your side of things, he’ll set us free.”
“Damn right, he will.” And he’d better do it soon. She thought to leave him, did she? There wasn’t anywhere she could go, on this island or from this island, that he couldn’t follow her. A few hours’ delay, even a few days—he’d track her down. And when he did, this time he would demand some answers.
Gray looped an arm through the bars of the door. “What’s Mallory told him? Do you know?”
“That we attacked the Kestrel without provocation, destroyed her cargo.” Joss lifted an eyebrow. “Shot down her mast with our cannon.”
“The blackguard.” Gray made a fist around the bar. “Why didn’t I let him go down with his miserable ship?”
“Ah, I expect you were enjoying playing the hero too much. Bent on impressing the ladies, you know. How is the lovely Miss Turner, by the way?”
Gray’s chest deflated. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Good God, man, what did you do?”
“I asked her to marry me.”
Joss gave a low whistle. “And?”
“And—” Gray grabbed the bars with both hands and pushed back. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He didn’t want to think about it, either, but he could hardly keep from doing so. What had frightened her? For all her brave talk, Gray was certain he’d seen fear in her eyes. Was it watching him put in chains that had spurred her to flee? Perhaps she had her own reasons to avoid arrest.
“Her name isn’t even Jane Turner,” he said bitterly. “She’s not even a governess. She’s some sort of conniving little thief with six hundred pounds beneath her stays.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”
Gray shot his brother a look. It was then that he noticed the haggard shadows on Joss’s face, and the bruise purpling beneath his left eye. “No, let’s talk of other things. How long have you been here?”
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