Still hugging her, Swifdon said, “I love you, too, Daphne.”
She let go of her brother, cleared her throat, and turned to Rafe, obviously shaking off the tears that had threatened to spill from her eyes. “Shall we?” The tears had been quickly replaced by a glint of steel that told him she’d completely shut him out of her emotions. Good. It was better this way. They needed to treat each other like nothing more than two spies on a mission working for the greater good of the country.
He nodded once. “Let’s go.”
“Be safe, both of you,” Swifdon said.
Rafe and Daphne nodded.
Rafe held open the door and Daphne made her way through it, not acknowledging him. He followed her down the corridor, the steps, and toward the back door.
“Cousin Daphne!”
Daphne turned at the childlike female voice that came from behind them. “Delilah? What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn’t be down here.”
“I couldn’t allow you to leave without saying good-bye.” Delilah shook her head. “I mean, good luck. You’ll be a hero, Daphne. I know it.”
Daphne smiled at that. She squeezed the child’s shoulder. “Take care of Mother for me, Dee. And Cass and Julian.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Just don’t let Julianknowyou’re taking care of him.”
Delilah nodded and her dark curls bounced. “Consider it done. And please come back with many harrowing stories.J’adorea harrowing story.”
Daphne shook her head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh, Captain Cavendish,” came Delilah’s sweet voice.
Rafe turned back to look at the girl. “Yes?”
“I do hope you’ll be a gentleman while in the company of my cousin.”
Rafe struggled to keep the smile from his face. “Of course, Miss Montbank. I give you my word.”
“But nottoomuch of a gentleman.” And with that, Delilah was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Daphne marched out of the back door of her brother’s town house. Rafe followed her, but as soon as they entered the alley, she felt the shift in him. She was no longer Lady Daphne Swift to him. She was Thomas Grey, the cabin boy.
Rafe didn’t wait for her to precede him to where his mount was tied to a post near the mews. Instead, his long strides devoured the pebbled ground while she raced to keep up with him, pressing her cap onto her head to keep it from flying off.
Rafe had untied the horse by the time Daphne joined him. He swung up onto the animal, turned to her, and gave her a quick, unfeeling boost up, pulling her up behind him. Daphne quickly wrapped her hands around his hips as Rafe wasted no time sending the horse into a gallop. Daphne clung to him, praying her hat didn’t wing off into the night sky. She clenched her hands around his middle, and desperately tried to ignore the outline of Rafe’s flat muscled stomach beneath his coat and how good he smelled. Oh, fiddle. She was sniffing at his back.Idiot.
She needed to control herself. After all, she was going to be stuck with him in close quarters for up to a sennight. She needed to put a stop to these ludicrous thoughts. Julian had been right. There was no time for anger or pettiness. There was also no time for unwanted lust. They had a mission to accomplish and accomplish it, they would. This wasn’t about her. It was for Donald. And the Crown.
Rafe spoke to the horse and kicked at its flanks as they rode through the streets, headed for the docks at a brisk clip.
The ride was not long and Daphne soon noticed the change in not only the inhabitants of the streets, but also the sights and smells. The docks were full of sailors on leave, whores, mongers, and a general riffraff of folk she would never have been exposed to in her life as Lady Daphne. It smelled like brackish water and alcohol and what Daphne feared was urine. She remembered all of this from the last time she’d been here. Despite the unpleasant smells, a thrill shot through her. Being here again was an adventure. It was entirely different from her staid, laced-up life in Mayfair. Anything could happen here. Anything. Her blood sang through her veins with excitement.
Rafe maneuvered the mount down the narrow wooden planks of the docks. Daphne remembered the drill. They would tie the mount to a post at the dock where Salty, Rafe’s first mate, would see to it. Rafe quickly dismounted and Daphne tried to ignore the warm feel of Rafe’s hands on her sides as he helped her down from the horse. He had only touched her momentarily, the way he would a cabin boy, certainly not in a way that could be described as sensual, but still, the feel of his skin against hers made her suck in her breath.
She shook her head. She must concentrate on the mission. Nothing but the mission.
“There’s the rowboat.” Rafe pointed to a tiny craft barely bobbing above the waterline.
“And the ship?” Daphne turned and looked out into the darkened waters. Several hulking vessels rested hunched in the brackish water.
“There.” Rafe pointed to the farthest one.
Daphne looked at it. There she was. TheTrue Love. Not a particularly fine vessel or a large one with its crew of only seven, but one that made sense for a small-time captain dealing in a few bits and goods here and there and dabbling in smuggling—the role Rafe was playing for the sake of the Russians and the French spies. The lopsided sloop had seen better days, but she remained sturdy and shipshape. Staring out at the vessel, Daphne swallowed the lump in her throat. The last time she’d left that ship, all her dreams had been dashed against the side of the dock. This time she was no longer the naïve young girl who’d been here before. She was older, more experienced. And had already had her heart broken. It could never hurt more than the first time.
