Costa won the hand and gave them all a cocky grin when he took over as banker for the third round.
“God, I hate this,” Diana whispered. “Ian should have won that hand.”
“That’s not what we have planned,” Sunderland reminded her. Ian couldn’t trounce them too quickly. They needed to extend the play long enough for thepoliziato arrive and break up the game.
Costa set the next round at two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. After a moment’s contemplation, Titus agreed to the raise.
Ian glanced at his cards. “I move to raise to three hundred thousand.”
Murmurs broke out across the room. Diana used all of her restraint not to flinch when Titus accepted Ian’s offer; the rules ofchemin-de-ferstipulated Ian would play both of their hands against Costa.
Costa sneered and flipped over his cards: a three of clubs, a four of hearts, and an ace, totaling eight.
Ian held a knave, a queen, and a nine of diamonds.
Applause broke out to cheer Ian’s daring and rewarding play. When her imposter stroked a hand down Ian’s arm, it took all of Diana’s strength to keep from flying down the stairs.
A gong announced a short break. When Ian rose from the table and slipped to the edge of the room to converse with the Tarkacapo,she saw her opening.
She’d only managed to turn before Sunderland caught her elbow in a firm hold. “Two identically dressed she-devilsstanding by one player will send tongues wagging,” the duke warned.
“Then send her somewhere else,” Diana hissed. Her eyes flicked to the woman in her dress, and she was unnerved to find her staring directly back at them.
“You’ll distract him if you go down there,” Sunderland threatened. “Let this play out.”
Refreshment trays circulated downstairs, and a crush of observers jostled past them to descend from the upper landing. The duke steered them to a back corner away from the fray. Below, her stand-in held Diana’s gaze.
Then she casually lifted her hand and tugged her ear.
An irrational urge to laugh overcame her. She came up with that signal, taught it to her crew.
And they dared to use it against her.
“The Stags are here.” Her voice carried an unfortunate wobble. “Your vetted operative signaled someone.”
Sunderland cursed colorfully as his hand clamped tightly around her arm. “Exit plan. Now.”
“We’re not leaving Ian.”
“This is his play. You and I made him a promise.” He started to tow her to the staircase.
Diana reached for her knives.
Neither of them got far in their efforts. Scarlet silk swirled around them and two more women wearing her dress cornered them back against the railing.
A doppelgänger thrust the end of a pistol beneath Diana’s ribs. Another imitator dressed in red held Sunderland in a similar position.
“Silence,signorina. Or you will cause a scene,” theStag warned.
Frantically, Diana searched the reception room below. Ian was still deep in conversation with the Tarkacapoat the back of the room.
“How may we be of service, ladies?” the duke asked in a frigid tone, which aristocrats typically reserved for insulting someone’s breeding.
“Walk to the stairs. There are shooters pointed at you, so don’t try anything.”
The gong chimed, warning the play would resume.
“You’re making a mistake,” Diana said. “This won’t work the way you want it to. It will only incite more violence.”
