Chapter Four
Present Day
In the carriage, Diana waited an interminable length of time for Ian to capitulate to her plan.
She hadn’t calculated on him hesitating, and she chided herself for it. One of the few things she’d been able to rely on in her life was his wariness of surprises.
Her hands itched to release the nervous energy that had been building in her muscles since he’d led her through the tunnel. She reached for the throwing knife sheathed in the pocket of the cloak Amelia had placed in the coach. Its twin was strapped to the satin blue garter around her thigh.
The message she’d received with the dubious flowers had warned Diana to be cautious. The flagrant reminder made her bristle; she’d no need for it. She’d spent the last eight years carefully concealing the White Stags and their work to protect the women they served.
She forced herself to push her troubling thoughts aside to focus on the journey ahead. Ian hadn’t mentioned the address, but she knew where they were going. And where their trail would ultimately end.
But she didn’t know the route that would lead them there. For that, she’d have to depend on Ian.
The possibility terrified her.
And thrilled her.
The coach traversed Mayfair at the promised fast clip. Ian should have been relieved that Diana didn’t pepper him with questions about Jared that he didn’t want to answer. But her sudden reticence made him nervous.
She must have known he wouldn’t let her get far without asking questions of his own. Like whether she was truly concerned about Jared’s welfare, as she claimed, or if she was using the search as her excuse to escape.
Her serene expression gave no hint of the truth as she peered out the window, with the most dangerous set of gems in the world curled around her neck.
For twenty years, they’d occupied a safe deposit box in Westminster Bank.
When Ian’s father first fell ill, and he’d told Ian about his legacy, he’d promised Ian the necklace.
But after his father’s death, the ownership of the box had transferred to Jared, and his brother had refused to surrender it.
Ian feared Jared would foolishly try to sell the emeralds.
Until he learned his father had left Diana the key.
Ian had contrived a hundred different ways of breaking into the bank itself and blackmailing one of the bank’s employees to get him access to the vault, so he could make off with the necklace. There was no scenario where he’d escape.
So he’d waited for the day of the wedding, knowing he’d eventually find an opportunity to swipe the gems with little fanfare or notice.
Now, that plan was in danger of being irretrievably compromised.
He cleared his throat and reached for the lace scarf on the seat next to her. “You should put this on.” He gestured to her throat.
She darted a look at the necklace, and the corner of her mouth tipped up. “There are so many stories about these emeralds. Are any of them true?”
“What did Jared tell you?” He had no intention of revealing what she didn’t already know.
When she flapped a dismissive hand, he issued a long exhale. “The two of you never spoke about it?”
“We’ve never had a conversation that didn’t involve at least half a dozen other people, and you know it. You were often one of them.”
She said it breezily, as though she’d asked a gentleman to walk across a ballroom and fetch her a glass of lemonade. He admired she’d mastered the art of detachment without sounding frigid.
Ian leaned forward and braced his arms over his knees. “Tell me what you’ve heard.”
While he was only a few inches closer to her than before, the incremental invasion of her space made her lean as far back as the plush leather seat would allow. It stoked his confidence.
“It was part of a pirate’s treasure,” she ventured.
“Possibly.” He’d spread that rumor himself, to raise the perceived value of the gems. “Couldn’t say if it’s true or not.”
“Then the bit about the curse is also factitious.”
“Probably.”
“Did your father stake half of his business so he could give it to your mother as a wedding gift?”
A creative interpretation of the truth. His mother had possessed the necklace years before his father returned to Italy and discovered that he’d fathered a child with his mother. “That is a great exaggeration of what happened.”
“The one I’m most curious about is that the necklace can never be bought or sold, it must be won.”
When he didn’t reply, her lips curved. “I didn’t realize your father was such a talented card sharp.”
Another false assumption. His father had possessed little talent for cards. But his mother’s prowess had bordered on genius.
Jared was the heir to everything their father had built, but the emeralds were Ian’s legacy.
His father had won them in a competition so furtive and treacherous, the few who knew about it rarely dared to breathe its name.
No one in London understood the danger of Ian’s inheritance.
And Diana couldn’t comprehend what he was prepared to do to possess it.
“Is the other thing true?” she asked.
The forced lightness in her tone made him immediately suspicious. “Are we still talking about the necklace?”
“India. You’re not really moving to Bombay.”
“Did you honestly think I’d stay after the wedding?”
Her breath caught in an audible rasp.
The sound made his chest burn. He was behaving spitefully, but he couldn’t help himself. He was desperate for some sign that his absence would affect her half as much as hers impacted him.
The carriage came to a halt, and Diana impatiently moved toward the door. She’d fled the house with no gloves, only a dark cloak and the shawl Miss Hunter had left for her in the coach. Both would do little to conceal her wedding costume.
Ian blocked her exit by gripping the door handle.
“You don’t have to act like a mastiff.” She sighed. “I know where we are.”
This did not alleviate his unease. “It would be wiser for you to remain in the carriage. They may not respond candidly to questions with you there.”
She gave a low laugh and shoved aside his arm.
“Wait.”
He clasped her shoulders with enough force to stop her momentum.
The scorching glare she threw him would have shredded another man’s dignity, but Ian couldn’t let her out onto the streets of Soho so exposed.
He pulled the dark cloak roughly over her shoulders and fastened the clasp.
Her low grumble made him apply more caution as he wound the lace shawl around her throat until it obscured the necklace.
When he tied it closed, his gloves brushed her neck.
She trembled faintly, before she caught herself.
Small as her reaction was, his touch affected her; it was as fortifying as a good night’s sleep.
“I have never been here before, but I have a fair idea of what and who we will find,” he said cautiously. “They are unlikely to be forthcoming with information. And I don’t need to remind you that every minute we delay could impact Jared’s recovery.”
“Then we must be swift about it,” she insisted.
“Leave the questioning to me. If they resist, I’ll have to resort to ungentlemanly tactics. There’s an excellent chance that my behavior will disappoint you.”
She evaluated this for a moment before concluding, “Only if you don’t succeed.”
He alighted from the coach first so he could hand her out, which she managed smoothly considering the morass of her skirts. Without a word, she threaded her arm through his so he could lead her across the cobblestoned lane to a faded green door.
The burly doorman allowed them in without a protracted negotiation and nodded to a set of ungodly steep stairs, which opened into an elegant receiving room.
Ian didn’t make a habit of visiting Soho brothels, and he was relieved to find themselves in one of the more discerning establishments, judging from the sumptuous parlor furnishings.
A generous fire burned away in the small grate to accommodate the sparse wardrobes of the working women.
The one who greeted them wore little more than a negligee.
He didn’t know where to point his eyes. Staring at the floor wasn’t an option; there was no telling who might walk through the door, and while Diana could handle herself against many threats, rich punters behaved badly when their blood was high with lust. And if he looked at Diana, he’d risk betraying the inappropriate thoughts their surroundings roused in him.
A woman wearing a more modest silk dress with a plunging neckline approached them. “What can we do for you, my dears?”
“You’re the proprietress?” Ian asked.
“I am. Don’t tell me you’re the tax man, come ta collect,” she teased.
“My brother was here last evening. You may recall him as the man who could not remove himself this morning.”
The madam gave a short, throaty laugh. “That was your brover?”
“It’s true, although they don’t resemble each other at all. Different mothers,” Diana offered from behind her cloak.
This did not appease the proprietress. She retreated to the fireplace and laid a casual hand on the iron poker.
“We’re not here to stir up trouble,” Ian said evenly.
“And we’re not with the police,” Diana added. “They’re the last people we want involved with this.”
Ian nodded. “My brother is ill, and we are trying to trace his movements so we may understand what would help him. We’d like to speak to whoever was with him last night.”
“How do I know you won’t send the bobbies chasing after us?” the proprietress asked.
“Because the scandal would be too costly for my family.”
The madam was unmoved by this.
“We will, of course, compensate you and your staff for their time away from their duties,” Diana offered.
Ian clenched his teeth. It set a terrible precedent to offer payment so quickly. He could be exceedingly convincing without resorting to such expenses.
Begrudgingly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a shilling.
The proprietress lifted it from him with the ease of a veteran pickpocket. “The gentleman was wiv Patrice last night. This way.”