Dunham

Chapter 36

Man sighed, but Woman stared straight ahead as if she had nothing to apologize for. "What time will we be leaving for the event, my lady?" she asked.

The marchioness's right eyebrow rose all the way to her mobcap. "Why, Prudence," she purred. "Did you happen upon your Season's wardrobe in the quarter hour between Mélisande Gables and Rathbone House? My husband informed me you are without funds or credit."

The woman finally had the grace to show some embarrassment. "The pirate," she said tight-lipped, "took all we had, including our letters of credit."

"And that is what pirates do, dear. Well, never mind. I shall collect all the necessary invitations for your entrés as soon as you attire yourselves properly." Again Celia was tempted to confide her identity to her aunt and seek her assistance. "Fetch Birdie," the marchioness said to the attending maid.

"She has flown, Sister," Mary said.

"Flown? Flown where?"

"She was swept away into the arms of a veritable Lothario who made her great promises of romance and passion. We were shocked."

Aunt snorted. "Romance. Passion. Girls these days! If only they would listen that there is no such thing! Well, never mind that. I shall attempt to find a maid willing to attend you—"

"Never mind, Sister," Mary said. "Celia has only been able to tolerate Birdie, so I will tend her, though it pains me to pull her stays. The girl is irreplaceable."

"Ah, but stays that are too large are. We shall go order more this afternoon. Celia, please go to your rooms and rest a bit, as I would like to see you at your brightest for Lord Tavendish."

"Yes, Aunt."

Celia's mouth twitched when, after plodding through the drawing room, she heard Aunt mutter, "Not that it will matter."

• • • • • •

Long after the dreadfully boring salón (which Tavendish did not attend) (during which Celia sat between her aunt and Rafael) (suffering discreet strokes of his fingers in her palm), she lay beside her sleeping mother on the edge of the bed, her left arm caught under her body and her right hanging down. Her right foot also dangled off the bed, as she struggled to stay awake until three, when she would check for Rathbone's presence in his library. Unbidden, the disasters that had befallen her since she stepped into this house so many weeks ago began to tumble into her mind.

Each situation was a seemingly insurmountable problem.

No such thing as 'can't be done,' Lass. You just have to be prepared to take the consequences.

Each path of escape was blocked by something.

When you can't go 'round, gun your way through. You just have to let God sort it out.

Each debt she had incurred conflicted in such a manner as to render the other impossible.

Some debts cannot be repaid. You just have to learn to live with the regret and hope for forgiveness.

Her most trusted ally had threatened to turn on her if he didn't get what he wanted—her as his wife.

Alliances are tricky to manage. You just have to be happy sailing alone.

But the privateers had needed her and Maarten to clear their path. Maarten needed her help to take bigger ships and avenge himself on Britain. They had all needed Judas to cover their escape out of Chesapeake. And Judas had needed them to put down the mutiny he'd so feared and to transport his gold. Without alliance, they would all be dead.