Everythingwasmoredifficultthan Diana had planned.
From the time the White Stags had recruited her, she’d expected orders about her betrothal to Jared. When the signal finally arrived, she spent months preparing her crew for the operation.
In her well-plotted scheme, Jared would have drunk himself into a stupor the night before the wedding. Someone would have found him the next morning at Polly’s flat, providing aton-approved reason to call off their engagement. Diana would have escaped London for seclusion in Bristol and met up with the ship and cargo departing as scheduled, two days hence.
But plans were only perfect on paper. In execution, they were vulnerable to a traitor’s sabotage.
They also couldn’t account for the onslaught of emotions Diana had encountered in the space of a day. They couldn’t specify how her heart would twist when she met Jared’s son. Or the way it had fluttered when she’d grazed Ian’s cheek as she’d stolen his umbrella.
He was going to be livid when he found her.
That was, after all, her intent. She needed to determine how far he’d chase her.
The thrill of their future confrontation gave her a renewed strength as she stepped through the door of the Swan’s Nest.
It was larger than Diana’s sources had described. And more crowded. The dockworkers had ended their shift, and many were cashing in their coin for pints at the wood-topped bar that ran the length of the room.
The scent of hops and tobacco clung to the warm air, along with a salty aroma she associated with the water and ships, and men working. They were impossible to separate from her memories of her father.
In the years before his death, Harry Rives relentlessly indoctrinated her in the running of Rives Shipping. The days in their dockside offices in Bristol and London were often grueling. Many of the men overtly resented her presence in meetings. They called her a distraction. One fool had possessed the gall to suggest she was a pretty little lapdog.
Diana had planned to make his life misery, but her father had repeated the comment in passing to Ian, and within a week, the pig was indentured on a long and unforgiving passage to Hong Kong, without a return ticket, courtesy of Holt & Company.
Ian was the only person who could have arranged it. Diana cherished that malicious act as a gift more precious than the emeralds she wore at her throat. It gave her hope that he’d been lying to himself, as well as to her, when he’d sworn she could never be his.
As a burly sailor brushed past her in his eagerness to reach the bar, a hand tightened around her arm.
Ian’s expression was ferocious.
She gave a small sigh. “If you drag me out of here, it will cause more of a scene.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he retorted. “Poking around, asking questions here is beyond unwise. It’s dangerous.”
“Then act like we’re here for something else.” She wound her arm through his. “Play pretend with me. Like we used to. Or did you forget how?”
To her surprise, he drew her closer. But the way he scowled at her would convince anyone watching that his intentions weren’t affectionate.
It was a prodigious effort to keep from confessing everything to him. Diana wasn’t above admitting to herself that she was in a precarious position, and Ian’s shrewd mind and devilish talents would be excellent assets for the next phase of her operation.
She ached to find out how he’d react if she told him she’d done everything in service of a bigger mission. And he was among the lives she was working to protect.
“There’s a bit of room there at the bar.” She withdrew her arm. “Let’s catch our breath.”
Ian trudged forward and paused for her to walk through ahead of him in the path he’d cleared. She pulled her cloak and scarf tighter around her throat to conceal the emeralds. As she scanned the crowd, her eyes snagged on a woman in the corner in breeches and an oilskin coat. A woolen flat cap covered her short, dark curls.
Diana glanced away quickly, irked that Birdie had disregarded the orders to stay clear of the Swan’s Nest. Her nerves pricked at the possibility that one of her crew carried a note with yet another change to their mission. Any more alterations would compromise Diana’s own plans, which her handler didn’t know about and absolutely wouldn’t approve of.
At the bar, Ian found a small opening, and a serving maid sauntered over to them.“What can I get ya, luv?”
“A pint of porter and a lemon shandy,” Diana answered.
Under his breath, Ian grumbled, “We don’t need to prolong our stay.”
“And they likely won’t part with information without compensation. It’s less conspicuous than paying them directly.”
“We’re already conspicuous here. Which is why we shouldn’t stay longer than necessary.” As he regarded the room, he casually tucked one hand into his pocket. He had a weapon hidden there.
A small thrill coursed through her before she pondered what would have made him reach for it.