He shook his head, his grin going even wider. “Rare is you, Frannie. Rare as a comet. Meet me by the prow at the change of watch?”

“Yes—superb.”

Asa said something waggish-sounding in French, then climbed the lines like he’d been born to it.

Ten minutes later, I stood by the prow pretending to read as I waited for him. A few of the hands working nearby glanced over, one or two staring lecherously, which set my heart racing. Even disguised as a highborn lady, I wasn’t safe.

Soon Asa strode up with a length of line on his shoulder. He glanced at me as he dropped it on the deck. For a few minutes, as he unwove a frayed line from a clew and replaced it with the new one, he spoke to a man with a grin like a bag of nails who was swabbing the deck nearby.

Last night, as we’d shared our stories, Asa had sewn the tear in his sleeve, and now I found myself remembering the wave of muscle that had peeked from beneath. With the sweat shining on his neck and the easy way he spoke with Bag of Nails, he looked like any other deckhand—no gentleman in him. Mama would have called him a true Son of Neptune. I smiled, thinking of what Mercy would’ve said about Asa Lane. Lord, Frannie. For him, I’d suffer.

Soon the crew was piped in, ending their watch. The men nearby set their tasks aside to hurry into the shade belowdecks. Finally, Asa joined me at the rail. He took a shilling from his jacket pocket and flipped it into the sea.

I shot forward with a gasp and watched it disappear into the water below.

“That’s gravity,” he said. “If it were rare, rain would not fall and we’d all be somewhere up in the cosmos. Like you, Comet.”

I smiled. Mama had called me Mi Vida, but I liked Comet, too. “Well, I understand it now,” I said. I’d never again forget gravity. “But you threw a good coin away!”

“Nay. I invested it in education. Here…” He reached into his waistcoat and took out a pamphlet. “Try this instead of Newton. But best keep it hidden. A good Tory girl like Miss Coates would never read such seditious writings.”

I reached for it, then hesitated when I saw the cover. Even in my tucked-away corner of the world, I’d heard of Common Sense. “Asa, I’m a Tory, too.” Sewel preferred calling us “Loyalists,” as he thought it got right to the point.

“Take it,” Asa said. “I dare you.”

“I dare you, Asa Lane,” I shot back.

“Do you?” His eyes narrowed and his smile hinted at mischief. “What do you dare me to do?”

My heart stumbled inside my chest. “I don’t know yet. But I will.”

Voices pulled my attention away. A few of the men on the new watch were making their way toward us. Our time for talking was over.