“Two days.”
“The guards give you that?” Gray gestured toward his own eye.
Joss shrugged.
Gray released a string of oaths. “Which one was it? He’ll pay for it with his life, I swear to you.”
“Settle down, Gray. And for God’s sake, don’t go punching yourself in the eye just to even the score.”
Gray shot him a look. “Not amusing, Joss.”
“Oh yes, it is. Give me credit for a joke when I make one. It’s nothing, Gray. I’ve had worse. You’ve given me worse. And it’s no more than a man can expect, I suppose, when he’s an alleged pirate.”
“Piracy charges.” Gray cracked his neck. “What a joke.” This was the voyage he’d finally gone respectable, and what had it gotten him? Jilted and jailed. No good deed went unpunished.
A few hours later, the guard sauntered back down the corridor. “You’ve a visitor, gentlemen. A lovely miss.”
An irrational surge of hope rose up in Gray’s breast. She came back, some fool voice whispered. She wouldn’t leave you.
Light footfalls sounded on the stone floor, and a figure emerged from the darkness. Of course. It was Bel.
“Joss. Dolly.”
She clung to the bars, and the two of them joined her from the other side.
“How’s Jacob?” Joss’s voice was tight. “How’s my son?”
“He’s fine, Joss. A bit taller than he was when you saw him last, and twice as mischievous. A Grayson man, through and through. He’s been asking for his papa.” She sniffed back tears.
“I’ve spoken with my friend, Mr. Wilson,” Bel continued. “You’ll remember him, Joss. He’s the one who used to be a solicitor in London, before he devoted his life to charity.” Her gaze flitted toward the guard and she lowered her voice. “He’s made some inquiries. He says … He says your situation doesn’t look good.”
“What does that mean?” Joss asked. “Surely once the judge has the story from Gray, he’ll not press any charges.”
“That’s just the problem,” Bel said. “It’s Mallory’s word against Gray’s.”
“And mine,” Joss said. “And every crewman’s aboard the Aphrodite and the Kestrel.”
“Not every crewman. There’s someone … an officer who just arrived today, who’s taking Mallory’s side.”
“Brackett.” Gray released a groan. “The bastard.”
“And the other crewmen, Mr. Wilson says their testimony could be too easily disregarded, since they might face charges themselves.”
“What sort of charges could they face?” Joss asked.
“Piracy, for the crew of the Aphrodite. Mutiny, for the Kestrel’s men.”
Gray swore under his breath. No, their situation did not look good. “So we bribe the judge. Every man has his price.”
“We can’t.” Bel shook her head.
“Bel, this is no time for scruples. This is hanging we’re discussing.”
“I mean it won’t work,” she continued. “Mr. Wilson knows something of this Mr. Fitzhugh. He’s ambitious, Mr. Wilson says, eager to make a name for himself and obtain a better post. That’s why he’ll press charges on such slender evidence. He means to make an example of Gray.”
Joss turned to Gray. “Why would he make an example of you?”
Gray clenched his jaw. He knew precisely why. “Not all privateers stopped seizing ships with the end of the war. Some of them kept right on plundering, even without letters of marque. They’re pirates now, with no allegiance to the Crown. It’s a problem for honest merchants. Like me,” he added ironically.
Understanding lit his brother’s eyes. “And the best way to discourage privateers from turning pirate …”
“Is to capture the most successful privateer of them all. And hang him.” Gray turned and paced away from the door. “This Fitzhugh plans to make his career on my neck. Goddamn it.”
“Dolly, please don’t curse.” Bel’s voice cracked as she spoke. “We need God on our side now.”
“Seems no one else is,” Joss added.
“There’s to be a sort of hearing tomorrow,” Bel said. “The judge will hear testimony and decide whether he has sufficient evidence to convene a court of piracy.”
“A court of piracy?” Joss repeated.
“Yes,” Gray said, “in order to charge us, he has to summon representatives of the governor, all the way from Antigua. It’s no small undertaking. He won’t go to the trouble if he’s not certain we’ll hang.”
“I see,” Joss said. “It would seem much hinges on tomorrow.”
“Everything hinges on tomorrow.” If he didn’t walk free tomorrow, she’d be too far away. He might truly lose her. Damn.
Bel reached for his hand through the bars. Gray accepted the comfort of her small, chilled fingers wrapped around his own.
“Mr. Wilson will try to intercede for you,” she said. “The rest of us will pray.”
Gray squeezed her fingers. “You do that.” If Bel prayed, God might actually listen. “What of Miss Turner?” The question was out before Gray could stop it.
“Who?” A strange look crossed Bel’s face. “I don’t know any Miss Turner.”
“The lady from the dock, Bel. What happened to her?”
Bel frowned. “I don’t know,” she whispered, eyes downcast. “She said someone would be meeting her, and then Mr. Wilson found me, and …”
“And she left.” Gray pressed his forehead to the bars. Christ. She’d truly left. She’d truly left him. Until that moment, he hadn’t believed she could do it.
He must have done something wrong. Perhaps he ought to have demanded her secrets. Perhaps he should have held back some of his. Or maybe … God, maybe she’d been playing him for a fool all along.
“I’m sorry,” Bel said. “I suppose she just slipped away.”
“I can’t believe I lied to him,” Miss Grayson said, opening the green plantation shutters to admit a sultry breeze. “I’ve never lied to my brother in my life.”
Cringing, Sophia sat on the edge of the bed. As if all her own lies to him weren’t bad enough, now she’d gone and corrupted Gray’s sister. “I’m sorry to ask it of you,” she said. “But it was for his benefit. If my name reached the judge’s ears today, he might not believe my story tomorrow.”
“But how could the judge not believe the truth?”
How, indeed. Sophia’s lies were growing so numerous, even she couldn’t keep them straight. But when she’d assumed Sophia to be a missionary, Miss Grayson had handed her the perfect way to help Gray, as well as the perfect escape. One more day of deceit—in this, her most challenging role yet—and she would be done.
Miss Grayson sat down beside her. “I suppose it was in service of the greater good. But the look on Gray’s face when I told him you’d gone … He was—”
“Furious, I’d imagine.”
“No,” Miss Grayson said, surprised. “Not angry at all, just … disappointed, I think. His face went very grim. For all his initial resistance to the sugar cooperative, he must be attached to the idea now.” She beamed at Sophia. “That must be your good influence, Miss Turner.”
Sophia thought it best to change the subject. “This isn’t your bedchamber, is it? I couldn’t put you out, you’ve been so kind.”
Gray had not been exaggerating when he described his sister’s kind nature. Indeed, Bel seemed to Sophia some kind of saint. While Bel had visited her brothers in jail, Sophia had been offered a series of small miracles: a bath in fresh, fragrant, heated water; a feast of tropical fruits and risen bread and unsalted meat; a freshly laundered dress; a soft, clean bed in this bright, airy chamber. If Gray had only been with her, Sophia would have felt welcomed into Heaven.
“No, this isn’t my bedchamber,” Bel answered. “It was once my mother’s, but no one has used it in years.”
“Has your mother been gone so long, then?” From what Gray had told her, she’d thought Bel’s mother had died more recently.
“She
died a little over a year ago. But we had to move her from this room several years earlier, when she first took ill.” Bel opened a door between the windows, and beckoned Sophia. “Come have a look.”
Sophia stepped through the door and emerged onto a stone-tiled portico framed by a Grecian colonnade. Beyond the railing, a lush, green valley fell away from the house, the hillsides blanketed with fields. In the distance, two craggy mountains framed a wedge of ocean blue. “How beautiful,” she breathed. “I can see all the way to the harbor.”
“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 breasts 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.
“Miss Grayson, please promise me one thing. After tomorrow, promise me you will sit down with Gray and tell him …” Sophia stopped. She had meant to say, tell him honestly what you’ve told me, tell him all your hopes and dreams. And then listen to him, allow him to explain his dreams for you, for the family.
But really, there was only one thing Gray needed to hear—and then the rest would fall into place. The same words that could have changed everything for her.
“Tell him you love him,” she said. “He needs to hear it.”
“Of course I will.”
“You must promise me.”
Bel smiled. “I promise you.”
“Good.” Sophia squeezed Bel’s arm before releasing it. Good. A sense of relief descended on her as evening turned tonight. With that promise, she felt a certainty that tomorrow everything would be set right. So long as Gray knew he had his sister’s unconditional love.
Now, Sophia just needed to do her part: making sure he lived to hear it.
By the break of dawn, Gray knew he was a dead man. One way or another.
He’d paced the cell’s perimeter all night, his thoughts circling like his feet. She was gone, he knew it. He felt it. It was still within his power to trace her, with ships and men and gold at his disposal. But dead men typically didn’t have those resources.
What was he going to do? He could argue his case, make a defense. Morally and legally, Gray knew he was in the right. But if Fitzhugh was truly determined to make him an example, the facts mattered little. His fate would already be sealed. And Gray’s fate was not just his, but Bel’s, and Jacob’s, and Joss’s. Could he gamble his entire family’s future on an attempt at freedom, on this slim hope of finding her?
Crouching to the floor, he nudged his brother awake. “Joss. Joss.”
Joss stirred and rubbed his eyes. “What do you want, Gray?”
“I want you to listen to me. I’ve been thinking about this all night. When we’re in this hearing today, I want you to let me do the talking.”
“Do I ever have a choice?” Joss stretched. “I don’t expect either one of us will be offered much opportunity for speech-making. Don’t count on charming your way out of this one.”
“I’m not planning to charm my way out of anything. It’s your skin I’m trying to save. I mean it Joss, not a word. There are papers, already drawn up in England. The business, the ships—if I die, my will leaves it all to you. There are trusts for Bel and Jacob.” Gray let his head fall back against the stone wall and rubbed his temples. “Had it drawn up the same time as the partnership papers. I was hoping you’d sign them this year.”
“Now I’m awake.” Joss’s eyebrows lifted. “What are you on about? Don’t turn martyr on me, Gray.”
“I can’t risk both of us dying, Joss. Don’t you understand? W
here would that leave Bel and Jacob?” Gray rose and began to pace the cell with agitation. “One of us needs to walk out of here alive, for them. I’ve decided to plead guilty in exchange for your freedom, and that of the crew. I’ll say you objected, but I coerced you into engaging the ship. Beyond that … you never boarded the Kestrel, Joss. They’ve got no evidence against you. So just keep quiet and play along.”
“You mean play dumb. You mean play the ignorant Negro incapable of thinking for himself.” He drew his knees to his chest and stacked his arms atop them. “Is that what you mean, Gray?”
“No.” Gray stopped pacing. He looked his brother in the eye. “Yes, Joss. That’s exactly what I mean.”
Joss stared at the floor for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? You can’t possibly say no.”
“I assure you, I can. And I believe I just did.” Joss stood, brushing his trousers clean as he rose to his feet. “Here, let me demonstrate the possibility again. No.”
“You’d rather hang?” Gray crossed the small cell in two paces, coming toe-to-toe with his brother. “Joss, you have a child who needs you. A sister who needs you. Hell, I’m your brother—and I need you, too. I need you to take care of them for me.”
“I won’t do it, Gray.”
“Damn it. I’d never have dreamed you could be this selfish, to sacrifice your own son’s security for the sake of your pride.”
“It’s not just my pride you’re asking me to sacrifice. It’s my dignity. My humanity, for God’s sake. I’d rather Jacob grow up a pirate’s orphan than the son of a slave.”
“You were never a slave.”
“You know what I mean. I want my son to make his own way in the world, with his own wits and courage. What example do I give him if I swear before God and England that I can’t be held responsible for my own actions?”
Gray turned on his heel and strode to the far corner of the cell. He braced one arm against the wall and covered his face with the other hand, trying to concentrate.
Tessa Dare Page 31
