A Chance of a Lifetime (The Chances #14)

Chapter One

And the very worst thing about negotiations, Phylis Seaton thought darkly, is that most men do not know when they are beat.

That, or they stubbornly refused to accept it.

“I just don’t understand why traveling to the Cape is so difficult,” the stringy man in a cravat that appeared to be garroting him whined. “Why, Captain Pelham—”

“Captain Pelham is a liar, Mr. Todd, and I am afraid he has taken in more than one esteemed client with his stories of reaching the Cape with ease,” Phylis said smoothly, doing her absolute best not to roll her eyes.

“You are not the first to fall for his lies, and I am sorry to say that you will not be the last.”

Despite her best efforts, the man’s cheeks flushed a dark red. “You presume much, miss!”

“Captain,” Phylis said calmly, as though she were not mortally wounded by the man’s rudeness. “Captain of the ship you need.”

There were murmurs in the room, but she did not allow her head to drop, nor an apologetic smile to creep over her face, nor her gaze to falter.

No, she knew better than that. She knew what it was to stand in a room and be discounted merely because of what was between her legs.

Or not, as the case may have been.

She was well practiced in the art of standing up for herself because there was absolutely no one else who would. She was adept at withstanding a great deal of rudeness, and she knew how to smile through the ignorance of others.

And she had met a thousand Mr. Todds all over the world, and none of them frightened her.

Not anymore.

A Mr. Calthorpe was now blinking rapidly, emphasizing the crow’s feet in his ruddy complexion and shuffling the papers in front of him on the table they were all gathered around. “Now, then, it’s not just the Cape, Miss Sea—”

“Captain,” Phylis corrected automatically, shifting back in her chair with an air of nonchalance absolutely unrepresentative of the fury boiling within her.

Mr. Calthorpe smiled weakly, as though he were gifting her a favor by addressing her by her long-earned title. “Captain. It is not only your planned journey that I—that my clients have difficulty with. It’s these prices of yours.”

Phylis did her best not to roll her eyes. “The prices.”

She knew full well that she offered the best terms—she always had. One had to, to gain business as a woman captain.

But the man was truly going to quibble over a few shillings, when her ship was due to leave dock at any moment?

“They’re just too good,” Mr. Calthorpe said, a whine entering his voice now as he continued to shuffle his papers. “It’s not possible, I tell you, and that suggests to me that… Well. That a little piracy might be involved here, if you will excuse me speaking so boldly in the presence…ahem. A lady.”

It was all Phylis could do to stifle her giggles. “Piracy, Mr. Calthorpe.”

The man stood tall and jutted out his pointed chin. “Well? Can you explain how you are at least ten percent cheaper than any other cargo ship?”

Phylis sighed.

Yes, she wanted to say. Just live through my life, experience it through my eyes, suffer as I have, and you’ll understand how I’ve learned to survive.

But they wouldn’t. It had been her mistake, perhaps, to meet the five accountants representing their clients in person. The offices of Todd, Todd, and Todd had seemed a suitable place to meet; solicitors at least had to be neutral, did they not?

But none of these men in this stuffy, little room with its tiny windows and tall bookcases had actually been interested in what she had to say.

She could strip off naked, Phylis considered dreamily, and declare herself Queen of England, and they would still wish to refer back to the apparently impossible pricing tables she’d given them in advance.

It was foolish to believe she could actually persuade any of them that she was worth trusting to fetch and carry for them. She’d sailed five of the seven seas and had survived storms, actual pirates, and worse: the British Navy.

And never before had she come across such fools.

“My prices are cheaper because I don’t overcharge my customers,” Phylis said instead, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table.

The five accountants leaned back. “My prices are cheaper because I have good contacts, and I don’t have to bribe people to get work done.

My prices are cheaper because the men on my crew aren’t always up and leaving, so I’m not always trying to tempt new hands on board a new ship.

In short, gentlemen”—and she relished the opportunity to say this—“I am a good captain. A good captain can offer good prices.”

It was a shame that that moment, which should have ended with her words ringing around the room impressively, was broken by the door opening to a loud hubbub in the office beyond, and a slip of a boy entering with a tea tray which he promptly dropped onto the table, spilling the milk jug.

“Idiot boy!”

Phylis sighed.

I didn’t really even want to have this meeting.

Oh, it was always good to get a few more clients, and Lord knew the Dreamer needed as many contracts as she could get.

But honestly. These men looked as though they’d never seen a ship in their lives, let alone traveled on one. They didn’t seem to understand the treachery of the waters and the unknowable tides, the wisdom of the stars and the way the gulls whispered secrets.

No, all they know is numbers, thought Phylis bitterly.

“Tea, Mr. Calthorpe?” offered one of the Mr. Todds, who had taken the liberty of helping himself first.

“Don’t mind if I do—tea, Mr. Acton?” the accountant offered after pouring his own cup.

“Why, thank you. Tea, Mr. Thurlow?”

“I would greatly appreciate tea—tea, Mr. Murray?”

“Why, yes,” said Mr. Murray, patting his large belly, which had a waistcoat either stretched over it, Phylis could not help but think, or painted on.

Mr. Murray poured himself a large cup of tea, managed to drop four lumps of sugar into it, and smiled beneficently.

“Have you ever sailed the tea route, Miss Sea—”

“Captain,” intoned Phylis, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

So, they were not even going to offer her a cup of tea.

She should have expected it. She should have known these men would look down on her. That was what men did everywhere, and she had been a fool to hope she would discover anything different here.

It was infuriating. It was maddening. It was irritating beyond belief.

But it was life.

And if she did not get a move on, she was going to risk both missing out on new contracts and her own ship.

If Drummond followed her orders directly, he’d be leaving in…

Phylis’s gaze flickered to the longcase clock, its slow yet steady tick moving time forward. Time she could not afford to waste.

It was half past two. Blast it all. And here she was, stuck in this stifling office, more than twenty minutes’ walk from the docks.

“Gentlemen,” she said loudly, halting a small debate about the correct number of sugar lumps for a cup of tea and gaining the attention of all five accountants, along with the scowls of two of them.

“Gentlemen, I well understand your concern.” Phylis flashed them a smile.

“You wish to be certain that you are operating within the law. The prices—my prices, they concern you. You are worried they are too low, that they will cause your clients to endure… Well. Let us say, awkward questions.”

“Legally consequential problems,” snapped Mr. Calthorpe, who appeared to have taken a disliking to her.

Which was unfortunate. Phylis had worn her very best skirt for this appointment, and she’d even managed to find a mostly clean shirt, which was remarkable.

Her coat, perhaps, was a tad masculine for their liking, but she’d removed her captain’s hat the moment she had entered the offices of Todd, Todd, and Todd and her boots were almost new.

What more could they ask of her?

Ah, well. Time to force the conversation to a crunch point.

“Indeed,” Phylis said smoothly, allowing a small smile to creep across her face as she spoke. “Well, I have an elegant solution to that problem that will help both of us.”

She did not mistake the hope that sprung in each of the men’s faces…or was it greed?

She’d seen enough of both over the years that Phylis would have thought she’d have been able to tell the difference, but that was perhaps one of hew few weaknesses. She always wanted to believe the best of people.

Even accountants.

“A solution?” Mr. Calthorpe leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, Miss—Captain, that would be wonderful. How will you do it?”

Phylis smiled sweetly. “Why, I’m going to increase my prices, that’s how.”

The smiles all suddenly disappeared.

“Oh, well now, hang on,” began Mr. Calthorpe.

“You can’t do that! We know you can offer—”

“Oh, but I can. You see, the Dreamer is my ship,” said Phylis with ease, rising to her feet and dusting off the imaginary dirt that had somehow attached itself to her cuff.

“It’s my ship, and I decide whom I carry for and whom I don’t.

And I don’t want to carry for gentlemen who don’t believe in me, or my prices, or my ability to deliver the goods on time and in perfect order fully above the law. ”

“That’s a mite hasty, now. Surely, we can—”

“My clients would happily accept your lower—”

“And so I am happy to raise my prices to what you consider to be more suitable,” Phylis continued cheerfully, making sure to beam at the tea boy who slunk out of the room with red cheeks. “If you are concerned that my prices are low, gentlemen, I shall raise them.”

“Now, then, no need to—”

“Did I say ‘too low’? I meant just right!”

“And as you can see from the documents I supplied, as requested, in advance,” continued Phylis, trying not to grin as the flustered accountants spoke over one another in their haste, “it is not that I always offer lower pricing, but that I can. At my discretion. At the captain’s discretion.”