Daphne nodded. “Gabriel’s the man who tortured you?”
“Yes,” Rafe said through obviously clenched teeth. Then his voice relaxed. “At any rate, the quality of the goods won’t be a problem. They’re coming directly from the English government.”
“What exactly are you giving them?” Daphne asked.
“The usual things. Spices, tea, fabrics, pottery. Anything they can sell for more in France. Which right now is nearly anything. What else did they say?”
“Viktor said he didn’t trust you and Anton explained that they’d keep an eye on you all week.”
“I like that,” Rafe said with another laugh. “They’re about to get our goods. We should keep an eye onthemall week. And speaking of being untrustworthy…”
Daphne pulled her oar in time with Rafe’s. “Why does it take a week to check them out? What are they checking for?”
“They’re making certain the goods aren’t stolen from anyone who’s going to trace them. They want to ensure the government’s not involved. That we’re not spies.”
Daphne snorted. “But we are spies.”
“Yes, but the War Office knows how to make the goods untraceable. They’ll never know. Did they say anything else?”
“Viktor said he didn’t remember me. He was suspicious. Anton said he did. He said I was a, ahem, pretty boy.”
Rafe growled under his breath. “Was that all he said?”
“For the most part.”
Rafe’s voice turned lighter. “Well, that’s two admirers in one day, Grey. Not bad for a lad of sixteen, I’d say. Not bad at all.”
Rafe’s laughter was drowned out by the rowboat clunking against the side of the ship. Daphne didn’t wait to hear more of it. Scowling, she jumped up, grabbed the ladder, and climbed as fast as she could. “I’ll see you in the cabin.”
***
The rest of the day stretched out interminably. Daphne had straightened up every possible thing that needed straightening. Which, in a very tidy captain’s quarters, wasn’t much. Rafe had taught her how to pull the bedsheets so tight she could bounce a coin on them. Wearing gloves, she scoured the wooden floor on her hands and knees with water and lye. Rafe hadn’t come into the cabin since they’d returned to the ship. No doubt he’d been making arrangements to get the goods to the smugglers.
“I didn’t think a lady would know how to clean a floor.”
Daphne jumped. Rafe had entered the cabin silently like a wraith. Unsettling that. Spies were exceedingly quiet when they wanted to be.
“Shows how much ye know, Cap’n,” she drawled in the voice that she’d been practicing so that she’d sound more like a cabin boy and less like an aristocratic lady should she be required to speak in front of Anton and Viktor.
Rafe laughed out loud at her accent.
“Me mum always said idle hands are the work o’ the devil,” Daphne continued.
“How are you so easily able to speak in that accent?” Rafe asked softly.
“I’m not certain. Somehow I’ve always been good at voices,” she replied in her normal tone. “I used to have Julian and Donald in stitches by imitating Father’s voice. We have a stable boy at our country estate who speaks this way. I spent a bit of time talking to him. He’s a nice boy. His mother died when he was just a lad. I taught him how to read.”
Rafe narrowed his eyes on her. “You did?”
Daphne scrubbed the brush against the floor with all the strength in her right arm. “Yes. I was speaking to him one day and he said he didn’t know how. I asked him if he wanted to learn. After that I’d go to the stables every afternoon for an hour or two and teach him in between his chores.”
“The stable master didn’t mind?”
“Mr. Griggs? Oh, no. He didn’t mind at all. He said the boy would be much better off in life if he knew how to read.”
“That was kind of him.” Rafe paused. “And of you.”
“It wasn’t kind. I’d do that for anyone who wanted to know how to read. Why should I know and he not know simply because he wasn’t born to privilege the way I was? Reading is one of life’s greatest pleasures. After I taught him, I asked Donald if the boy could come in and borrow books from the library from time to time. Of course Donald agreed.”
