Chapter Thirty-six

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Rafe glanced around the tavern. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something seemed off tonight. Wrong. Daphne had assured him that all Anton and Viktor had said in their native tongue while they’d been on the True Love was that they had their suspicions. They’d further indicated that everything seemed legitimate before they left. The War Office team had done their research as far as the ship went. The two Russians might have believed that an unannounced visit to the ship would have revealed something, but other than nearly revealing him and Daphne in a state of undress, there was nothing suspicious about the contents of the sloop.

Daphne. Rafe didn’t have time to think about the mistake they’d nearly made last night.

The Russians were nowhere to be seen. Rafe made his way across the large space to the same table where he’d sat the last time they were here. Daphne followed on his heels. The same barmaid approached and Rafe ordered two mugs of ale as usual.

“It’s good ta see ya again, guv,” the barmaid said, laughing, causing Daphne to pull her cap down and cross her arms tightly over her chest. The barmaid soon left to get their drinks and Daphne took her same place at the next table. She didn’t lean back on the chair legs tonight. She seemed tense, alert. Just like Rafe was.

“There,” Rafe breathed, as soon as the two men entered the tavern.

Daphne glanced up and her eyes flared. She quickly looked off into the crowd as if she hadn’t even noticed.

Anton and Viktor came ambling toward them. They sat backward in their seats again.

“Good to see you again so soon,” Viktor said with a laugh. He spat tobacco juice on the dirt floor. Rafe could only imagine Daphne’s internal reaction to that nastiness. But she was doing a fair job of keeping her face blank. She was on the far side of the men, so Rafe could see her. She was glancing around the bar, nonchalant, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, seemingly quaffing her ale. But Rafe knew better.

“You said the goods checked out.” Rafe wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. No good could come of this meeting being protracted. But most of all he wanted what he’d come for. The letters, the whereabouts of the men whom he would stop at nothing to find.

“They did,” Viktor said. He turned to stare at Daphne. Daphne pretended she didn’t even notice. Well done.

“And do you have the agreed-upon payment?” Rafe asked.

“Da,” Anton said.

Rafe arched a brow. “Where is it?”

“We left them in a bundle, in a cart, in the alley. We didn’t want to bring attention to ourselves hauling them in here. Too many eyes watching, you know?” Viktor said, still eyeing Daphne on occasion. He spat another wad of tobacco juice in a wide arc onto the ground.

Rafe narrowed his eyes on Viktor. In a cart in the alley? What was his game? “You wish me to accompany you to the alley?” Rafe asked. He made a move to stand but Anton stopped him with a hand in the air. “No.”

“No?” Rafe’s eyes narrowed further.

“We’ll go get them. We wanted to make sure we weren’t being watched first.”

Rafe clenched his fist. They were up to something. “Being watched? That’s preposterous. Go get them.”

The barmaid walked past just then, holding a large tray full of ale tankards high in the air. She tripped near Grey’s table, sending the tankards toppling and their contents spilling all over Daphne.

Daphne jumped up and pulled her shirt from her chest, clearly desperate to keep the fabric from becoming transparent.

“Oh me God. I’m so sorry, guv,” the barmaid cried. “I’ve ruined yer clothes. Let me take ye in the back and fetch ye a new shirt. One of the boys will have one.”

Daphne’s gaze snapped to Rafe’s. He touched the corner of his left eye. The signal for no.

“I’ll be all right,” Daphne said in her best Grey accent. “No need ta worry. It’s not the first mug o’ ale I’ve ’ad dumped on me and won’t be the last, I’m certain.”

Pride swelled in Rafe’s chest. Daphne was playing her part perfectly. Though he could tell she was rattled.

The Russians laughed. “I think the maid likes your little friend,” Anton said to Rafe, poking Viktor in the chest with his elbow.

Daphne tried to sit back down but the barmaid wouldn’t let her. The woman kept trying to usher Daphne to the back. “Just come with me. I’ll have ye fixed up in a trice. If ye don’t want a new shirt at least let me get ye a towel.”

Rafe touched his eye again. This was hardly the time to allow a tavern barmaid’s flirtation to compromise their plans.

“Come on. Just a towel, guv. It’s the least I can do after me mistake,” the barmaid insisted.

Anton and Viktor both guffawed.

“Go on, boy. You’re not afraid of a woman, are you?” Anton said.

“Or perhaps it’s your master who keeps you here? Afraid to leave him, are you?” Viktor smirked at Rafe. “I think you’re bit too close with the lad, English.”

Rafe cursed under his breath. He had no choice but to let Daphne go. If he pressed it too far, they would no doubt turn suspicious and then the entire mission would be in danger of being aborted. They’d worked too hard and come too far. Rafe rubbed his right eye this time, the signal for yes. He could only hope Daphne returned quickly. Daphne’s eyes met Rafe’s and he saw the fear and hesitation in their gray depths. But he also saw her determination. She lifted her chin and gave him a barely perceptible nod. He knew from her face what her mouth could not say. She could handle this.

“Go on, Grey,” he prompted, before turning his attention back to the Russians. “While he’s gone, I’ll wait for you to get the letters.”

Anton and Viktor nodded and stood, heading for the door. “We’ll be right back, Captain.”

“No,” Rafe said, pulling back his coat to reveal one of his pistols. “One of you will be right back. The other is staying with me.”