Dunham

Chapter 13

13

Celia ate her Friday nuncheon of shark steak without participating in the rousing discussion her mother and Judas were having concerning the Americans' grievances with England. Celia had nothing to add, for she knew little of politics. She had a long history with and trusted the men she worked for, and, unlike the other privateers, her real reasons for participating in this little war had nothing to do with profit.

However, her mother was eminently studied in the intricacies of the American concerns, and Judas was equally studied concerning the British ones.

"What do you think, Ce—Jack?"

That was the third time Mary had nearly called her by her name. Fortunately, "see" and "Ce—" sounded exactly alike, and might not be taken as a slip of the tongue.

"Mama, you know I have no thought for it at all," she said calmly, sitting back and sipping at her coffee.

"Come now, Fury," Judas rumbled with a teasing smile. "Surely you have some thought else you'd not be spending your energies in this manner."

She took a deep breath and looked at Judas. "Tell me, Sir. Do you know of any other woman who has the freedom I do?"

"Well, certainly, though it manifests differently."

"Name one."

She watched as he thought, his long finger tapping at his lips, lips that had awakened her in the most pleasurable of ways this morn. "A modiste," he finally said. "A ... certain countess I know but will not name." He raised his eyebrows. "An actress. A courtesan."

Mary choked on her coffee.

"A modiste," Celia began, "is subject to the whimsies of her clientele, which is female, whose husbands control their pursestrings. One offense to one client or her husband, and she is suddenly without business. That assumes she also has no other investors in her business, no husband, no children, and all her suppliers are willing to sell her goods directly regardless of the fact that she is a woman."

"You have the same problems."

She smiled. "No. I do not. I do not have to sail. I choose to."

"Ah, but wealth is a different matter. Wealthy women have more choices."

Celia raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So a young heiress could marry for love? Any woman of wealth could travel the world alone?"

Judas's smile dipped a bit. "I take your point, but then we come upon the courtesan."

"Why do I doubt you know anything about the finances and independence of a courtesan, Captain?" Mary asked sweetly.

"Ma'am!" he protested with faux affront, his fingers splayed across his chest. "I am a man of the world!"

"Which is why you were in the Bloody Hound and not the Friars' Club three blocks inland," Celia said dryly, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup.

He flashed her a grin. "I take it the Friars' Club is a bit more exclusive."

"Aye."

"And how would you know of it, Madam?"

Her eyebrow rose. "Why, I am a woman of the world, Captain. That is where I go for my amusements." His mouth dropped open and she grinned. "And when I am finished with my ... amusements ... I return to a ship I command. And I do not have to masquerade as a man to do so, unlike most women in history, including my bo'sun."

"You—" He blinked. "Madam, if you have a taste for women, I pray you allow me to watch the next time you go for your amusements."

She burst out laughing. "It happens that the Friars' Club—as do several establishments of pleasure—are able to cater to my tastes, which do not include women."