It was neutral territory. Ian suspected Il Corno and Manu Rosso wanted a rematch of the last game, which had also taken place in Florence. “Have the factions nominated their players?”
“Only one we’ve confirmed is Costa. The Manu Rosso are still arguing over who will have the seat.”
“Do we know the actual game?” Diana asked.
“Baccarat,chemin-de-fer. There will be only one table and no banker, which gives no one a chance to influence the cards being dealt. Our player will have to play to win.” Sunderland paused. “And there’s also the small matter of securing your invitation.”
Diana’s wide eyes landed on Ian. “You’regoing to play for the Tarka?”
“If they’ll let me.”
“And if you lose…” She rattled her head, unable to say aloud the dread Ian had been living with for eight long years.
Win or lose, if he played for the Tarka, he’d be forever in the debt of the Maltesefamiglia.
Ian reached over and tilted her chin up so her eyes would meet his. “I won’t lose.”
“Before any of that, you must convince the Tarka leaders you can win,” Sunderland said matter-of-factly. “Your audition is tomorrow night, Holt. We’ll be hosting a private reception for thecapobastone.”
The duke rapped at the door to the shop, and attendants scurried in. “Now, let’s get you both something to wear.”
To Diana’s surprise, the Tarka criminals behaved like perfect gentlemen.
As she sat at the green felt-topped card table the servants had arranged in the townhome’s salon, she admired the elegant gray wool of thecapobastone’s frock coat. His son—the resemblance was too close for either of them to deny—wore a necktie with an intricate knot she envied and wanted to try herself. Both sipped theirbajtracordially, while they stared daggers at Ian.
Sunderland had assumed the role of the banker for the last hand of the horrible rehearsal. His affable manners hadn’t fooled Diana into overlooking the way hisstare prowled over everyone and everything. The duke had proved himself a deft player. He’d trounced thecapo’s son easily and gave Ian a run on more than one hand. But she suspected Ian had let Sunderland win, to throw off suspicion from his talent for calculating which cards were in play.
“Final bets,signori,” Sunderland called.
The game had dragged on for hours, and Diana fought against sighing with relief that it was ending.
They’d worked all day and most of the night, strategizing how to disruptIl Gioco. Every time Diana had broached the subject of what would happen after the game, one of the men drew the conversation back to some technical element of the operation.
Tonight, Diana would ferret it out of Ian. No matter how difficult the conversation. From the moment he told her aboutIl Gioco, she’d known he would have found some way to play for the emeralds. But if he thought that after everything that had happened, she’d allow him to push her away, he was sorely mistaken.
As Beatrix had said, women like them needed to fight for their happiness.
The duke drummed his fingers on the table. “Call.”
The players turned over their cards. When Ian revealed his winning hand, thecapo’s mouth twitched, and his son mumbled something unintelligible.
Ian’s blank expression didn’t falter. If she hadn’t been sitting right next to him, witness to the fact, she would never guess he’d won a victory.
“You play well,Ingliz,” the capo remarked.
“Grazzi, sinjur.” Ian tipped his head to acknowledge the compliment. “You were challenging opponents.”
The capo exchanged a brief nod with his son. “We will discuss the terms the Tarka will stake and send word to you tomorrow.”
He rose from the table and as the majordomo helped him into his overcoat, the Tarka leader looked at Ian with a gleam in his eye. “You count cards better than your parents.”
“My father,” Ian corrected, a little too quickly.
The capo gave a gruff laugh and wagged a finger. “Your mother taught him how, but she was better. You have her talent. I look forward to seeing what else you can do with it.”
It was a compliment wrapped around a subtle threat, and the possessive way thecapowatched Ian before he took his leave made Diana fight off a shiver.
“That went well,” Sunderland said cheerily.