This explanation was preferable to the possibility that one of Diana’s own crew was acting off script, for reasons she didn’t want to contemplate.
“Now, ’ere ya go, luvies.” The barmaid finally returned with their drinks and made a special show of reaching over the bar to wipe off Ian’s glass before handing it to him.
When he paid her, he placed an extra shilling in her palm. “My lady friend here lost one of her earbobs here last night. We’re trying to track it down. Were you working?”
“Sorry, pet. Had a night out wiv me fella. Took us down to the penny gaff, and we had such a row after, I don’t fink I’m in a mind to forgive ’im.” She batted her lashes at Ian.
“Was your colleague here?” Diana gestured toward the brawny barman at the other end of the bar.
“Aye, believe ’e was. You want a word?”
“That would be most gracious,” Ian replied. He squeezed Diana’s shoulder to root her to the floor while he leveled a charming smile at the barmaid. “You’ll keep an eye on my hen, won’t you?”
The maid winked. “’Course, luv.”
Diana forced a lethal smile. “I’m afraid—”
“Mind our drinks,” Ian interrupted. He tossed a parting grin at thebarmaid.
Diana would have wiped it off his face, had the woman not clamped a hand on her arm.
“Oh, let ’im go see to ’is business, pet. ’E’s a fine specimen. You want to ’old on to ’im. Men like that need to feel needed.”
How Diana’s mother would havelaughedat that.
Before absolutely eviscerating the woman for even thinking it.
“Stay and finish your drink, luv,” the maid insisted. “Let your man help a damsel in distress.”
Diana regarded her with the kind of stare that often made grown men cower. “I’m not that kind of a damsel.”
The maid released her arm as if it were a hot coal.
As she wove her way through the mob, Diana clutched her cloak to cover her skirts. She kept a careful eye on the silver-haired man. His attention was fixed on the sacks of hops in the corner.
Curious, that.
She risked a peek at Birdie, who scratched her nose and pointed a finger at the sacks, before slowly pulling on her right ear. It was a signal their crew used to convey an important transaction. Or a payment.
Curiouser and curiouser.
The sound of Ian’s rising voice pulled Diana’s focus back to the end of the bar. She firmly pushed her way in and found the barman leaning toward Ian in a much less friendly way than the serving maid.
“Fought I told ya to leave, before I make ya.”
“I just want to know what you saw,” Ian demanded.
“Is there a problem?” Diana asked insipidly, hoping to distract them, but both men continued staring daggers at each other until she reached for Ian’s jaw and pointed it toward her.
“Calm down,” she murmured as her hand dove into his coat in search of his coin purse.
He jerked at her touch and stepped neatly out of her reach. “What are you doing?”
“Buying us another drink to smooth the waters.”
“I ain’t taking no blunt fromyou,” the barman bellowed. “It’s a bloody shakedown.”
“Eh, Shep, this bloke boverin’ ya?” a muscled sailor asked.
