“Yes, how about vingt-et-un?”
“Perfect.” She gave him a shaky smile. “That’s Delilah’s favorite.”
“Delilah plays cards?”
“Only when she can sneak away from her governess, which is essentially always. She should be the spy in the family. The girl is a master at evading capture.”
Rafe laughed. “Yes, I witnessed that particular skill of hers myself.”
He made his way back over to the bunk and plopped down on it, then he patted the space across from him. “It’s tight quarters but there are few other places to sit.”
Daphne looked down at the wet floor. She tossed a towel over it and scrubbed so it wouldn’t stay wet and warp. She supposed she was responsible for the tight quarters. She could sit in the bunk with him. They were already far beyond inappropriate, they might as well play cards in a bunk. She stood and dusted off her backside with both hands. Then she climbed up onto the bunk next to him, allowing her booted feet to dangle off the front.
Daphne watched with wide eyes as the cards sprang to life in Rafe’s hands. He shuffled them, snapped them, and began to deal two at a time.
“Let’s make this more interesting, shall we?” he said.
Daphne wiggled backward on the bunk so that her back rested against the wall. “What do you suggest?”
“Whoever wins each hand gets to ask the other a question. And get an honest answer.”
“We’re not allowed to fib? How disappointing.” Daphne smiled at him.
He returned her smile with a knee-weakening grin. “Well?”
Daphne tapped a finger against her cheek as if she were thinking about it but there was little to consider. “Very well. I have nothing to hide. You’re the one who should be worried. You’re a spy with, I’m certain, a great many secrets.”
His grin widened. “Yes, but I’m quite good at vingt-et-un.”
Daphne shook her head at him. “And modest, too, I see.”
The first round was over quickly and Daphne lost soundly. “Very well. Ask your question.”
“You never answered me earlier. Were you disappointed about Lord Fitzwell leaving?”
Daphne pressed her cap to her head and scrubbed her hand over her face. She had to answer honestly. She’d promised. She thought for several seconds. “No,” she finally said softly. “It would be a lie to say I was. I think I was more disappointed by the idea of losing an engagement than the reality of actually losing Lord Fitzwell.”
“I have to say that I think you were magnificent when you were telling him how judgmental he was.”
“Well, he was.”
“True, though I must admit I found your diatribe a bit ironic given how judgmental you’ve been about me.”
Daphne’s gaze snapped to his face. “When have I been judgmental about you?”
“Not believing me about the blond who just happened to crawl in my bed.”
Daphne sucked in her breath, prepared to unleash a steady stream of rebuttals at his head.
“Or whenever I’ve had a drink, for example,” he continued, without letting her speak.
That stopped her. “Why do you drink so often?”
“Ah, ah, ah. You didn’t win the hand. No questions for you.”
He dealt again and won again. Daphne sighed. “What’s your next question?”
“Delilah told me she had a trick up her sleeve.”
