“Come and have some breakfast, Ian.”
Diana stood before the dining room buffet in a narrow patch of morning sunlight. She wore a walking suit of navy wool trimmed with cerulean silk, and he couldn’t help staring purely to watch the way she moved.
“Stop frowning,” she commanded as she sat down to her plate of preserved apricots, cured ham, andcornettopastries. “It’s too early for you to be cross with anyone.”
“Can I be cross with Giotto for erecting that bloody bell tower?”
“Yes. That bastard deserves it for disturbing the peace of generations of innocent people.”
When she arched her brow, Ian had to shove his hands in his pockets for fear of grabbing her and latching onto her pert mouth.
The servants bustled in with coffee thick as tar. Ian added hot milk to the cup and gulped it all in one go before pouring a second.
“I daresay sipping it would be more enjoyable,” Diana murmured.
“That would imply you like the taste.”
“I enjoy bitter things.”
He wrenched his attention from buttering hiscornetto, and the hint of color on her cheeks gave him hope that she’d missed having him in her bed last night. The servants had shown them to separate rooms. The aftereffects of the poison and his weariness from traveling sent him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
“Has Sunderland surfaced?” he asked.
“No, but he sent a note asking us to meet at a tailor shop.” Her tone turned markedly cooler at the mention of the duke’s involvement.
Ian knew enough about her and women that it was an invitation for an argument, but he wouldn’t squander a breath or his energy provoking her. These were his last moments with her. Possibly forever. He wouldn’t ruin them.
After squabbling over their walking route, he begrudgingly agreed to Diana’s suggestion to take the longer path along the river, which was too exposed for someone to attack them and escape easily.
The sun came and went beneath the clouds, and a cool breeze stirred the ruffle of her cape as it brushed against him. She’d taken his arm, but kept a loose hold, in case she needed to move in defense. He wistfully longed for a day when they could walk arm in arm with each other without such a care.
Diana glanced over her shoulder casually to check for tails. “When was the last time you visited Florence?”
“Before my father died. After…I couldn’t risk one of thefamigliespotting me.” They would have demanded he turn over the emeralds.
“Are you at home here?”
“Not anymore.” He pulled her closer to avoid a collision with some fool on one of those absurd pedal-bicycles. “Florence has changed. Or maybe I have. Whenever I’m here, I’m searching for something that no longer exists.”
“That’s how I feel when I’m in Bristol. Why I love to travel. It’s like I’m searching for home too.” In an unusually tentative voice, she asked, “Will you show me where you and your mother lived?”
He ached to take her there, despite knowing it would unravel him to experience the physical reminder of what he’d lost. Things Ian couldn’t put into words lived there, and he wanted to show her. He wanted to spend time in a place with Diana wrapped in the familiar warmth of family.
But doing so would sever him in half. It would fool him into wanting something they could never have together.
Today, they needed to complete their plans to gain access toIl Gioco, and he’d have to manage some way to minimize Diana’s part in it.
“We can’t risk a visit,” he said. “Thefamiglieknow it. Someone will be watching.”
She gave a small sigh. “I am disappointed. I was looking forward to stopping at the bakery for one of thosepastizzi.”
They found the tailor shop. It boasted a respectable inventory, although it was a far cry from Savile Row. Ian could imagine the deprecating digs Sunderland was compiling when he waved them into the back room of the shop. With the flick of his fingers, the staff scattered like birds after a gunshot.
Diana buried her prejudice beneath her elusive mask and bobbed a curtsy.
“No need for such formality with me, Miss Rives,” Sunderland drawled. “I’m happy to have you fighting on our side of this. You’re not a woman I’d want as an opponent.”
He abruptly turned to Ian. “Il Giocois set. Two days from today, somewhere here in fair Firenze. What a happy coincidence you led us here, Holt.”
