Chapter Seventeen
Diana sat in a hired coach parked in front of the Grand Casino, contemplating the possibility that she was the biggest coward alive.
Uncertainty had never plagued her before.
She’d always excelled at compartmentalizing powerful emotions, like fear.
Her fencing instructor had taught her that in the moment of an attack, she couldn’t afford to be afraid.
He told her to build a vault inside of herself to hide it away.
So she could stay in the moment to assess and destroy her assailant.
After that lesson, her blood high from the enthusiasm and the power she’d experienced, Diana had recited the words to her mother verbatim.
Her mother had regarded her contemplatively.
Then, in a rare display of affection, she’d taken Diana’s face by the chin and said, “I could not give you any better advice for your life.”
They were the last words she’d spoken to Diana before vanishing from her life.
As she waited in the carriage, she brushed aside those memories, and the others that would corrode her resolve.
She searched the street again for some sign of Ian.
When Birdie had reported Ian had lost their tails during his foray into town, Diana knew he must have signaled his co-conspirators about his plans for the emeralds.
If she’d waited for his return to the townhouse and demanded an explanation, the confrontation would have stoked his anger.
She couldn’t afford to alienate him; she needed him at the meet to exchange the necklace.
Rather than risk his fury, she’d left him a note instructing him to meet her at the Grand Casino. And she’d fled the house.
The cathedral bells chimed eight. Diana reluctantly abandoned her surveillance and strode into the casino alone. When she passed under the gilded ceiling of the main entrance, something pricked at the back of her neck and drew her attention to the gallery hallway.
Ian locked eyes with her.
If she was another woman, her body would have sagged with relief at finding him there, and she would have flashed her brightest smile solely at him.
But Diana was her mother’s daughter. And it took a long moment to decipher which feelings had to go into the box in the trunk in the vault in the cavern, buried deep below her heart.
Because Ian Holt was devastating in his dress blacks.
As he strolled toward her, the flare in his eyes was mesmerizing.
It was, in fact, more of a glare than she cared to admit, and reminiscent of the way he used to stare at her when she believed in his resentment.
Now, she saw it for the echo of what she suffered: frustration at their circumstances.
Smothering an underlying need to be near him.
Her heart pounded as he drew up beside her and dragged her into an alcove behind a trio of potted palms.
“I don’t expect you to have any regard for me. But you must have no care for your own life if you want to walk into this situation blindly.” The fire in his dark eyes was a striking contrast to the coldness in his tone. “Once you knew the meet, we should have spent the afternoon strategizing.”
“So you could return to the telegraph office?”
He blew out a breath. “We agreed to be partners on this. I understand that trust has to be won, but this won’t work if you withhold information. It puts us both in danger.”
She couldn’t argue with him. “I know. I want to trust you. It may not seem like it, but I’m trying.”
“Tell me what you know about the meet. Everything.”
She caught herself smoothing back her hair with her hand and quickly dropped it. “There will be an approach in the main ballroom. An invitation to one of the private table salons on the other side of the gallery.”
“Birdie and her sparrows?”
“The sparrows are at the front and side entrances. Birdie is standing by with transport if things do not go according to plan.”
“And they probably won’t.” He scoffed. “You trusted them with the meet details, but not me, even though you know they could be betraying you.”
“That was purely timing. And my need to convince them I’m keeping you at a healthy distance.”
Their eyes dipped to where Ian’s hand gripped her waist.
Diana glanced at the gilded clock on the wall. “If we don’t walk into the ballroom soon, they’re going to get spooked.”
“Talk fast.”
He pulled her arm through his and steered her through the crowd, into the ballroom. Ian guided them through the maze of tables covered with crisp white linens and hothouse flowers, past the sumptuous buffet of savory dishes, to the parquet dance floor.
“What are we doing?” She swiveled her head at the couples dancing around them.
His arm came around her waist. “Dancing and plotting.”
“This is going to make an approach a thousand times more difficult.”
“Then you’re not as good as you think you are.”
Her foot stumbled. She would have tripped if Ian had not caught her, which drew her indignant anger; she refused to appear anything less than graceful in public. And she knew they were being watched.
“Who are you supposed to deliver the emeralds to?” Ian pressed.
“You truly are a devil if you’re doing all of this solely to interrogate me.”
He didn’t deny it. “Who are we meeting?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bollocks. You know every other important detail of your operation, down to the fabric of this suit and the menus on your ships.”
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
“But you suspect it’s your handler.”
The music shifted into a slow waltz. More couples gathered onto the dance floor.
Ian drew her closer. “Why won’t you tell me who is behind all this?”
She was terrified of Widow or another Stag observing them entwined around each other like lovers. Diana pressed her hand on his chest to carve out some distance. “You won’t understand.”
“Did someone hurt you?” He relaxed his hold on her. “Did they threaten to hurt you? I’d end them for it.”
To her horror, she gasped.
“Why does that surprise you?” His voice softened. “You killed for me once.”
She was prepared to do it again if circumstances demanded it.
“Everything changes when we walk into the room for the meet,” Diana rasped. “I’m not afraid of who will be there, or what might happen. I’m afraid of what comes next.”
A couple brushed against them before Ian deftly twirled them to the edge of the dance floor. She seized on the movement to pull away from him. His embrace was too intoxicating; she needed the separation to rally her strength.
Ian shoved his hands in his pockets. A frown pulled at his brow as he withdrew a silver token.
“That chip is for the private gaming room.” Diana plucked it from his open hand. “It must be the drop point.”
Ian curled his hand around hers. “We go in together, or not at all.”
“Of course,” she said softly. “I can’t do this without you.”
“And when they try to disarm us?”
“They will. As a precaution. But it won’t matter.” She held his eyes. “They won’t leave with the emeralds.”
When he spoke again, his voice was like gravel. “Not everything will change.”
In her entire life, Diana never wanted to believe a lie more.
They darted out of the ballroom to the gallery, where they came close to colliding with a waiter carrying a tray of champagne coupes. Diana lithely ducked out of the way but caught the edge of her dress on the nearby settee.
“Damn,” she muttered as she lifted the fallen hem.
“Leave it,” Ian said.
“I can’t, I’ll trip. Bloody ready-made gowns.”
She glanced up and saw the ladies’ retiring room was a few doors down. “There should be some pins there. It will take half a minute. I’ll hurry.”
Usually, public retiring rooms were well-lit, so ladies could examine their wardrobes with attention. But when Diana walked inside, the room was exceptionally dim and exceptionally quiet. Only one other woman stood in a shadowed corner, at the far end of the room.
Even in the darkness, she recognized Widow’s silhouette.
“You can’t be surprised I’m here, Diana.”
“Of course not,” she agreed smoothly.
“Then you know why I had to come myself.”
Diana kept her voice low so Widow wouldn’t detect the threat of it trembling. “For the necklace.”
“It’s about more than that now. You raised too much interest in San Sebastian.”
As Widow took a step closer and half of her face emerged from the shadows, Diana swallowed the knot rising in her throat. From the beginning, she’d known that in all of her plotting, this would be the hardest part of the operation.
If it killed her, she would keep her composure as she confronted the hate and vitriol in her mother’s gaze.
Ian pressed himself up against the wall behind the door of the retiring room.
He hoped to hell Diana realized he’d followed her. There was no chance he’d let her go off by herself when they were this close to a handoff, and she’d left the door open behind her, which was too careless not to be intentional.
“We were compromised,” Diana said in a deferential tone he detested. The low lighting in the room obscured the murky figure she spoke to.
“You went off script,” came their biting reply. “Because of Ian Holt.”
“That’s not why we had problems.”
“Don’t sass me.” The shadow stepped forward into the small pool of light from the sole lamp.
Ian choked back a breath.
He was grateful for his years of stealth along the docks, and the self-possession beaten into him at Harrow. Without it, he would have cried out at the woman who looked and sounded exactly like Diana’s deceased mother.
“How many times have I told you?” Mrs. Rives reprimanded her daughter. “Men are a trap.”
“Ian’s not. He doesn’t want me that way.”
The conviction in her voice made pain slice through his chest. Could she truly believe that, after the last few days? After what had happened between them in San Sebastian?
Her mother gave a harsh laugh. “No, Ian wants the emeralds. It was a mistake to tempt him with them. You miscalculated, and now we must deal with the fallout.”
He understood now why Diana had concealed her handler’s identity, and why she was so frightened about her mission to uncover the traitor within the White Stags. If she had to unravel the network to rebuild it, she might have to destroy her own mother.
“I can manage it. Ian proved himself in San Sebastian,” Diana countered. “Without him, we wouldn’t have saved those women.”
“Debatable.”
“Please.” Diana’s voice caught. “Reconsider.”
“Pleading is beneath you,” her mother chided. “Don’t degrade yourself for him.”
Ian frantically searched the dark room for any trace of others hidden in the shadows who’d pounce if he made a deliberate move to silence the poison words Mrs. Rives spewed. It seemed impossibly lucky she’d come alone.
“My patience is growing thin.” Mrs. Rives approached her daughter. “Give me the necklace, and I shall forgive this little revolt of yours.”
The shrew’s tone was colder than stone, and Ian had had quite enough of it. He withdrew his pistol and checked the deck of cards he’d slid into his pocket. From his angle, he had a partial shot of Diana’s mother, but not one that would clear Diana.
“Why did you have me take it?” Diana gripped the necklace as if she would break it apart herself. “It has nothing to do with our mission.”
Mrs. Rives scoffed. “There are dangerous men who would do dangerous things to claim the emeralds. They play for more than the necklace, Diana. And we must stop all of them. Including young Mr. Holt.”
“Please—”
“Ian is an unnecessary liability. We serve a greater mission. You must remind yourself that none of us are essential.”
“He’s essential to me!”
The startled expression on her mother’s face gave Ian an opportunity to fling the deck of cards to open the door all the way, which illuminated the dark room with the light from the hall.
Diana spun around. Her mother jerked her head up.
“Mrs. Rives.” He cocked the pistol. “A pleasure to see you after so many years.”
A whistle shrieked. Diana’s mother darted away as Ian shouted at Diana to duck. Glass shattered, and something doused the outside corridor light and the lone lamp in the room.
Darkness engulfed them.
Ian shouted Diana’s name while he hurled furniture aside to cross the room.
The dim light of a wall sconce flickered, and as the hazy light spread through the broken glass shade, he saw Diana’s hand quiver as she gripped the gas valve.
He paused with one eye on the door, the other on the room, until he confirmed they were once again alone.
A horrible sense of foreboding rose within him as he remembered the fear Diana had voiced about what would happen next. The tenor of her voice as she’d shouted at her mother was still reverberating in his ears.
He’s essential to ME.
“Diana.”
At the soft call of her name, she blinked, registered his face, and sprinted across the room.
Ian opened his arms to receive her, but halfway there, her legs folded beneath her.
Before she hit the ground, he caught her in his embrace.