Surrender of a Siren
A Novel
Chapter One
Gravesend, December 1817
In fleeing the society wedding of the year, Sophia Hathaway knew she would be embracing infamy.
She’d neglected to consider how infamy smelled. She paused in the doorway of the fetid dockside tavern. Even from here, the stench of soured ale accosted her, forcing bile into her throat.
A burly man elbowed her aside as he went out the door. “Watch yerself, luv.”
She pasted herself against the doorjamb, wondering at the singular form of address implied in “luv.” The man’s comment had clearly been directed toward both of her breasts.
With a shiver, she wrapped her cloak tight across her chest.
Taking one last deep breath, she sidled her way into the dank, drunken confusion, forbidding her gray serge skirts to brush against anything. Much less anyone. From every murky corner– and for a squared- off tea caddy of a building, this tavern abounded in murky corners& ...
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