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.”