“Aye, she can get us costumes, but staff may be an issue. Two of her men were pinched last week.”
“That’s ominous timing,” Amelia said.
“We shouldn’t be tryin’ to pull this off now. We’re too close to the cargo handover.”
Diana shared Birdie’s concern. Widow never justified her directions to them, but they’d never had cause to question their previous orders. Their handler had always given them ample time to plan, especially when taking on something as dangerous as infiltrating a nest of criminals at Costa’s auction.
“None of us are comfortable with this, but there are two women depending on us,” Diana argued. “If we stick to our protocols, we can pull it off.”
“We should ensure all parts of the operation have a backup,” Amelia said diplomatically. “Perhaps Virgil can play the role of Diana’s escort?”
“He has to meet the Australian cargo lighter at eleven hundred hours. It’s too close.” Diana rubbed her chin. “We’ll have to use Mr. Holt.”
“No,” Birdie protested. “Widow would never allow it.”
“There’s no one else,” Diana countered. “And we won’t forgo the mission.”
“Wecan’t trust Holt.”
“No,” Diana conceded. “But he’s the option that carries the least risk. I will mitigate it.”
Two days later, when they ported in Pasaia, Ian took an abbreviated shore leave to bathe at a nearbymesónand inquire about the quickest routes in and out of San Sebastian. He gave Diana some credit for docking the ship away from the city.Ever Hartwould have stood out conspicuously in Donastia’s small harbor.
Upon returning to his quarters, he found a note in Amelia’s hand, instructing Ian to dress in dinner attire. He was still fastening his necktie when Birdie summoned him with a loud knock.
She led him down the narrow corridor of the ship to a door near the entrance to the bridge. After giving Ian a once-over, taking in his suit and a rumpled shirt that would have made Hepburn break out in hives, she rapped at the door and fled the moment Diana’s voice beckoned them to enter.
Ian strode inside and leaned back against the door to ensure it was closed.
The setting sun filtered through the windows of generous quarters twice the size of his cabin. The scent of violets permeated the room.
“I suppose that suit will have to do.”
Diana moved smoothly around the large bed covered in snowy linens and approached the mirror that hung on the far wall. She gave her reflection a small frown and adjusted the sleeve of her sapphire silk gown.
“It’s the best I have with me. I didn’t expect I’d need dress blacks in the boiler room.”
Ian studied the movement of her hand so he wouldn’t gawk at the exquisite way the dress gathered at her breasts and waist.
Carefully, she threaded a jewel earring through each earlobe. “I’m glad you trimmed your whiskers at least.”
Ian’s skin grew uncomfortably hot as he realized she’d invited him into her chamber while she was still completing her toilette. Evidently, she thought she could distract him from asking too many probing questions.
It was working; he was having a hard time focusing on anything but what her skin might feel like. Or what she’d do if he placed his lips at the crook of her neck, where it met her shoulder.
“How was your trip to the telegraph office?” Diana asked.
The feigned mildness in her tone made him stifle a laugh. With Birdie’s crew on his tail, he’d only risked a terse signal to Sunderland.
“Diana, what am I doing here?”
“Deploying the special talents you pledged to my service. Now, put those on.” She nodded to the freshly starched shirt, blue silk waistcoat, and tie lying on the bed.
Ian braced both hands on his hips and made no move to follow her convoluted command.
In the mirror, she regarded his stiff posture and gave a terse sigh. “Two women are being kept against their will. They are lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you examine it—to have a very wealthy father who will pay us handsomely to extract them. As part of the operation, we need you to help put on a performance, and possibly improvise.”
“These are orders you received from the people you work for, or the traitor who wants me dead?”