Widow knocked on the door to summon Birdie and another Stag enforcer. “Since the idiots you were associating with have sent too many factions searching for us, we’ll be traveling in separate convoys. Don’t do anything foolish.”
Her mother didn’t bother with any other words of farewell or care. And as the cold weight of her mother’s rejection settled on her, Diana finally allowed her thirteen-year-old self to weep openly for what she had lost.
Hot tears soaked her face, but she welcomed the relief and the release that came along with watching Widow walk away. She didn’t care if she ever saw her again.
When Birdie and the other woman approached to bind her arms, Diana’s sobs grew louder as they wrenched her sore arm.
“You know, Birdie.” She hiccupped a breath. “The thought occurred to me that since you betrayed me so easily, your loyalties might be of the constantly flexible type. What would it take to sway them back in my favor? A ship of your own?”
Birdie covered her unease at Diana’s crying with a cocky smile. It reminded Diana of the way dockside cats looked when they’d caught a fish. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, pet.”
“What did Widow promise you for your betrayal?”
“Already owe her my life for pulling me out of the workhouse. I would have died in that hellhole, had it not been for her.” Birdie’s voice dropped low. “You never asked where I came from,ma’am. Thought at first it was to keep things professional-like, out of respect for the fact I worked hard, and we shared a mission. Realized later that you didn’t care at all.”
“Do you think I’d allow anyone to man one of my ships?” Diana countered, her breath steadying. “Of course I knew where you and every one of my crew came from. And I did respect that and you. Show me I was right, Birdie. Let me go. Leave this behind and come with me. If you stay, Widow will ruin you.”
Birdie shook her head. “She said you’d say that.”
They bound her mouth with a cloth, and Birdie flashed her teeth. “No need for us to carry you, is there? You’ll follow nicely, won’t you?”
If one of them attempted it, Diana calculated a sixty percent chance she could relieve one of them of a knife or pistol, but it would be messy and awkward. A short-term gain for a potentially longer-term loss if the struggle resulted in another injury. It was better to cooperate until her odds of escape improved.
In the convent’s back garden, a wagon waited for them. Two large barrels took up half of the back. Compared to a hired carriage, the cart would blend in more easily on the rural roads.
Diana was mildly chagrined to find a team of two decent-looking horses leading the cart; Birdie was in a hurry to move them and keep up with Widow’s coach and four, which had departed ahead of them.
The enforcer seized her by her sore arm and maneuvered her into the back of the cart. They tossed a foul-smelling horse blanket over her and packed in some sacks of grain for good measure to weigh down the blanket. Her bound hands, sore arm, and blindfold wouldn’t make it an easy escape.
But it wasn’t the hardest one Diana had trained for either.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ThepoliziaheldIanfor two days before Sunderland’s bribe secured his release.
At the gates of the prison, a messenger met him with a telegram and an envelope containing the local currency equivalent of fifty pounds Hepburn had wired. It was the remainder of Ian’s cash savings. He’d have to make it last until he found Diana.
It was easier to circumnavigate the Ponte Vecchio by foot. In less than an hour, he slipped thefamiglietails and eventually found his way to a dingypensionein Gavinana.
The proprietor’s eyes lingered on his bruised cheek and cut lip for a moment before he confirmed they had a room for him. A maid delivered cans of hot water and a paper-wrapped parcel and fled quickly.
When he’d locked the door and placed a chair beneath the knob for good measure, he exhaled. Pain laced through his ribs. Over the course of his stay in jail, the other inmates had attempted to teach him the pecking order through a series of introductory assaults to his person. He finally tore his shirt off and exposed the ink on his chest, and they retreated quickly; no one had touched him afterward.
His relief at finding shelter was short-lived. The note Sunderland left with the parcel informed him the duke was still searching for Diana.
The only thing that lessened Ian’s panic was focusing on the incremental tasks that would lead him to her. He forced himself to bathe, change clothes,and appease his howling stomach by swallowing a bowl ofosso buccobefore he ventured out to San Niccolo.
In the dim alley across from the tailor shop where they’d met Sunderland days before, Ian watched the tailor close up for the evening. Before the man had finished drawing the picture window blinds, he darted across the street and slipped inside the shop.
When the tailor turned, he acknowledged Ian’s presence with a small shriek. He was graciously accommodating with information, thanks to Ian’s loaded pistol, and quickly confirmed the address of where he’d delivered the dresses designed to match Diana’s scarlet gown. Ian left him tressed and tied for Sunderland to handle while he headed back across the river.
Typically, he would have waited until full dark to scout the crumbling building tucked among the rising iron and glass of San Lorenzo’s Mercato Centrale. But his patience had long abandoned him. And without knowing where Diana was, every step he took made him feel rudderless.
He ventured into the tavern across the small lane and orderedantipastiand a bottle of chianti. He drank half a glass of it and sent the rest with his compliments to the barmaid who paid particular attention to his movements.
When the market had shuttered and the streets emptied, he returned to the address the tailor had provided and broke into the warehouse. He managed enough restraint to leave the door on its hinges and stalked the perimeter of the empty room. In the fading daylight, he tried to quiet his pounding heart by reminding himself that he’d known he’d find the place deserted, and he couldn’t behave like this at every turn, hoping Diana was there. If he did, he’d destroy himself before he found her.
The Stags had performed an exemplary job clearing the site. They’d left nothing behind. No stray biscuit tin or candle stub.
