“’Ave you got a penny for me, guv?” A boy stood at the doorway. As he leaned closer, Ian maneuvered Diana away; he didn’t want either of them bringing back chits.
“Where can we find Polly Wren?” Diana asked.
The boy eyed them suspiciously.
“There’s sixpence in it for you if you tell us,” Ian offered. “But it better be the right door. Or I’ll return to claim my money back.”
The boy swallowed visibly at the threat. He pointed upstairs. “Blue door.”
Ian tossed up the coin, which the lad caught neatly before he ran off to spend it.
Diana’s bright laugh echoed in the narrow lane. He’d forgotten how infectious it was, how often the sound had filled the summer days they’d spent together by the shore.
It was a lifetime and a world away from where they stood.
He took a moment to reflect on what he was actually doing, allowing things to progress this far. There was too much at stake for him to be anything less than serious in his investigation. Daylight was fading, Jared could have worsened, and there was still the small matter of needing to steal the emeralds.
He admitted to himself that he was conflicted about taking Diana to meet Polly. Only a scoundrel of the lowest order would escort a woman to meet her fiancé’s lover.
Even if the woman had insisted on it.
They walked into the building and up the narrow staircase. When Ian knocked on the door, a surprised shout arose from inside the flat.
He pushed at the door, prepared to throw his full weight at it to get through, but the thing flew open, and he tripped inside.
“Get out, you blackguard, or I’ll whistle for the police!”
In the manner of a toy poodle guarding a Great Dane, a petite woman stood protectively in front of a taller, curvaceous woman.
“Lady Cora?”
The shorter woman turned to Diana. “Miss Rives?”
She took in Diana’s wedding gown, and her eyes widened before they narrowed on Ian. “Has this fiend abducted you?”
Ian’s reputation preceded him, but so did Cora Longworth’s. She was one of the fiercest bluestockings in London and known to have a low regard for the male species.
So what in God’s name was she doing in St. Giles?
“I assure you I’m quite well and here of my volition,” Diana said quickly, as she smoothed her hand over her hair. It was a small tic, the closest she came to fidgeting; Lady Cora’s presence unsettled her.
This unsettled Ian.
The woman standing behind Lady Cora—presumably Polly Wren—clutched her hands while she stared at Diana’s gown. Her lip trembled. There was more than a fifty percent chance she would break into hysterics at any moment.
Ian half hoped she would just to get it over with, and they could move swiftly on to his questions.
He ventured a step closer.
Lady Cora stopped him with a glare that would have torn a lesser man to pieces.
Diana chided him with a slanted look. “Allow me to introduce you. Mr. Ian Holt, may I present Lady Cora Longworth.”
Lady Cora sniffed her disapproval. “And this is Miss Polly Wren.”
“Holt,” Polly whispered. “You’re Jared’s kin?”
“His brother,” Ian acknowledged with a tilt of his head, which he hoped would assure the woman he wasn’t a brute.