Lord Maxwell’s Quest, page 13
“What?” Max came to stand by here.
“The sword,” she answered and didn’t wait for his agreement before she entered the establishment.
The proprietor came forward when they stopped at the counter.
“How may I help you.”
“We are inquiring about a sword” Max stated.
“I’ve many swords.” The man gestured to a wall of mounted swords.
“This particular sword would have come to you within the last sennight, or possibly fortnight, but not longer. Old,” Rosemary explained.
“Many items are brought to me,” he said.
“It would have come from a young man named Billy,” Max offered. “He would want to get rid of it. For a good price.”
“Everyone wants a good price.”
Max turned to Rosemary. “Obviously he does not have it.” He offered his arm.
“Good day, Sir,” Rosemary offered, even though she knew to her bones that this man had purchased the sword. They’d visited many shops, but this one with the knives, daggers, swords, and guns would have been interested in the sword.
“Wait,” he called.
Max and Rosemary turned.
“What is your interest in the sword?”
“It was taken from a home, and we’ve been tasked with getting it back,” Max explained.
“How old?” the man asked.
“Centuries,” Max answered as neither one of them knew for certain how old it was or if it even dated back to Joan of Arc. “Though we’ve been told it is in poor condition. The owner simply wants it back.”
“I have it,” the man finally said.
Her pulse skipped, but Rosemary willed herself to be calm.
“May we inspect it to make certain that it is the one we seek?”
“No.”
Rosemary blinked at him. The man was in the business of selling items, and they’d purchase it if necessary.
“It’s not with me,” the owner continued.
“Where is it?” Max demanded.
“It’s being cleaned so that it can be put on display. Come back tomorrow morning, and I will show it to you.”
“We don’t care how filthy it is,” Rosemary argued. “We’ll view it as it is.”
“My wife is seeing to the cleaning. Return to the shop tomorrow,” the man insisted.
Rosemary pursed her lips. “What time?”
“Eight. Before I open.”
Max nodded. “We will be here.”
“What is so important about this sword?” he asked.
“We told you. It was taken from a home, and the owner wishes it back,” Rosemary said.
“If this sword is so important, it will cost you.”
“We are well aware, and so is the owner.” Max nodded and then escorted Rosemary from the premises.
“Do not smile, be disappointed,” he whispered in her ear. “If Rylan or his men are in the area, and if they’re watching us…”
“I know,” she whispered back. He didn’t need to warn her not to reveal anything. They couldn’t see him, or his men, but no doubt one of them was close. “I’m beginning to think it doesn’t even exist,” she said a little louder as Max led her down the street.
“We’ve more shops to visit.”
Chapter 17
They’d found it. Or they found what could possibly be the stolen sword. Which could also possibly be one of the swords of Joan of Arc. It was all Max could do to contain his excitement and remain serious and disappointed for whoever was watching. And, because Rylan’s men were in the area, not that Max had seen them yet, he and Rosemary continued to visit pawn shops until mid-afternoon.
“Look, a coffee house,” Rosemary pointed.
“And, hotel,” Max added. If they could find lodgings for the night, they’d not need to travel away from the area.
Taking her arm, he led Rosemary across the lane to Peele’s Coffee-House and first inquired after a room.
“Why not two?” Rosemary asked quietly as the woman turned away from the registry.
Max drew her away from anyone that might overhear. “We are too close,” he whispered. “Rylan is too close. I don’t think it wise that we are separated.” They’d have the sword tomorrow so tomorrow night he could sleep in separate chambers, and his sleep would not be disrupted because Rosemary was near.
“You think he would try to harm one of us before we are in possession? He doesn’t even realize it’s been located.”
“I don’t trust him, and I think we are both safer together.” He did fear more for Rosemary than himself, but Max also wouldn’t put it past Rylan or one of his thugs to slit his throat while he slept so Max decided it was best that they remain together, and they’d make certain the door to their chamber was secure.
After they’d enjoyed a small meal, which they had both been in need of, Max led Rosemary once again out onto Fleet Street, where they wandered the streets.
They passed a flower girl, many of her blooms now wilting, and feeling sorry for her, or perhaps generous since their luck had finally turned, Max purchased one of her last bouquets and handed it to Rosemary.
He wondered if anyone had ever given Rosemary flowers before. Had her lover?
Max didn’t want to think of Rosemary having lovers. It didn’t matter that it had only been one. What mattered was that it hadn’t been him.
He suffered from jealousy, which he fully acknowledged. He had wanted her for years. The sooner they had the sword and delivered it to the rightful owners, which was probably the French Government, they’d part ways, and he’d finally be able to get a full night of sleep.
Rosemary put the small bouquet close to her nose and inhaled. “Thank you, Max. These are lovely.”
“And likely to be dead by morning,” he added, not wishing to analyze why he had purchased them, nor wanting Rosemary to read too much into the gesture. It meant nothing. He was simply helping the poor flower girl out. The sooner she was rid of her flowers, the sooner she could return home for the day.
“They are still lovely.” Rosemary smelled them once again.
She was more relaxed since they’d eaten, but Max suspected it was more due to the fact that they’d located the sword. However, they should still put forth the pretense that they were still looking.
“According to the clerk at the hotel, there are only two other pawn shops in the area.”
“Then, I suppose we should visit, but I’m tired of pawn shops.”
So was he, but if Rylan or one of his men were watching, they needed to continue the charade.
“If we are done early enough, perhaps we could visit The Wax Work,” she offered with a grin.
Max frowned. They weren’t out for a stroll to enjoy the fine weather. “I can’t imagine those are any better, or possibly even different from Madame Marie Tussaud.”
“I’ve not seen her work either, but I’ve heard it is magnificent and very lifelike.”
“Some more deathlike,” he grumbled.
She frowned. “How so?”
“You do realize that during the French Revolution, Madame Tussaud was employed to make death masks of the victims, including Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, Marat, and Robespierre.” At least that was what he’d been told, though Max had no proof.
“That is rather macabre.” Rosemary gave a shudder. “Perhaps I’d rather not view them today.”
“I’m not saying there are any death masks in The Wax Work we saw earlier.”
Rosemary shook her head. “We should not be visiting anyway. We are still on the quest for a sword.”
“Let’s visit the last two shops. Then we will plan where we shall go tomorrow, if it is not found.”
“Or, if it is,” she offered hopefully.
“If it’s found and it’s the true sword of Joan, then we’ll be booking passage to France,” he muttered. The man who took it from the French soldier lost the right to own it when he allowed it to be taken. It didn’t matter that it had been found on a battlefield. That sword belonged to France.
Rosemary could hardly wait to finally view the sword tomorrow morning. She kept reminding herself that it was likely just an old sword, and possibly of some value, but not likely to be any of the swords Joan of Arc had possessed. In fact, she reminded herself over and over so that she was not too terribly disappointed. She’d gotten excited about an antiquity in the past only to be disappointed when it turned out to be a forgery, or something entirely different, and learned not to make such a mistake again. Yet, another part of her hoped that it was one of Joan’s swords. It would be a miraculous find and being able to hold it would be something she’d always remember. In fact, Rosemary could think of no other antiquity that she’d like to possess, even for a short time. Well, other than the cup used by Christ, or a portion of the cross, but she had even less chance of encountering those items than she did a famous sword.
Max stopped and she looked to the sign of yet another pawn shop. After tomorrow, they’d never need to visit one again. Or that was her hope.
He held the door for Rosemary to enter, and she crossed to the counter where the proprietor waited.
“Can I help you?”
“We are seeking a sword. A very old sword,” Max began and then explained how it had been taken, just as he had dozens of times since they began this quest.
“Nobody has tried to sell me a sword,” he answered. Rosemary would have been surprised if he’d claimed to have had one.
“Thank you for your time.”
“I wish you and your wife luck in finding the sword.”
That wasn’t the first time that Rosemary had been referred to as the wife, and they’d long quit correcting the assumptions.
“Come along, wife,” Max chuckled when they were back on the walk.
Rosemary glanced up at him. “Tell me, Max, why haven’t you ever married?”
He seemed to still then glanced down at her. “Why does it matter?”
She shrugged. “A curiosity, I suppose. She suspected she knew the answer, which was probably not much different than her reasons for not having a husband—hindrance in pursuing a passion.
“I don’t wish to be tied to a home, wife, and possibly children. I wish to continue my exploration and quest for rare antiquities. A wife would not appreciate me being gone from home so long, or she could be a hindrance if she accompanied me. I can think of no woman who would want to traipse around Egypt, Greece, and the like, visiting archaeological sites, or in pursuit of an item someone else may have discovered.”
Rosemary frowned at him, though he wasn’t looking at her, but at their surroundings, most likely keeping an eye out for their nemesis.
Was he so blinded to what was before him?
She wanted to kick him for being so obtuse, but wouldn’t, though if they were alone, she’d be hard pressed not to give into her impulse.
She should have never told him of her lover.
Men did not become involved with ruined women unless they were in need of a mistress, and even though Rosemary may no longer be innocent, she’d never be kept by another.
Deflated in being reminded once again that Max was with her only because they were on the same quest and for no other reason, she lost interest in visiting yet another pawn shop. In fact, she wished to just be on her own. It’s not like Rylan or his men would do anything to her. They’d keep their distance until either she or Max was in possession of the sword, then they’d try to take it, thus, she need not really worry about their interference until tomorrow.
Rosemary brought the bouquet of pale lavender asters to her nose. There wasn’t much of a smell, yet she sniffed anyway. They were the first flowers anyone had ever given her, and she wanted to enjoy them while she could. It didn’t matter the reason Max had purchased them, Rosemary was simply happy that he had then gifted them to her.
“The last pawn shop is on the corner, I believe.” Max pointed ahead of them.
Her flowers were wilting, yet she’d not toss them. Instead, she decided to secretly press them into a book so that they could be saved, a fond memory to keep once they were done with this quest.
Until Cornwall, they’d not seen each other in months so it was impossible to determine when they might be in the same place again after they parted ways. Except, she didn’t have a book in her possession. At least not one that she’d wish to ruin the pages with when she pressed the flowers. Too often the paper would be stained by the coloration of the petals. What she needed was an old book that she was unlikely to read. But where could she find such an item?
Max stopped before the shop and opened the door. Rosemary paused on the street and did a turn, then smiled. Further away, on the other side of the street and near the corner stood a book shop. Today certainly seemed to provide everything that Rosemary needed. They had located the sword. They had close lodgings for the night. Now, a bookshop. The only thing it hadn’t delivered that she also wanted was Max.
“Rosemary?” he questioned when she didn’t enter the shop.
“I’m going across the street.” She pointed to the book shop.
“We need to question the proprietor here.”
“You can do that without me.” She stepped away. “I’m in need of a book.”
“A book?” He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, which was a familiar expression and one she expected of Max when she did something he thought unusual, unnecessary, or unexpected.
“Max, it’s the last pawn shop. I doubt you will find it within, and you don’t need me.”
“If it is here?” He arched an eyebrow when they both knew that it wasn’t.
“Then I trust that you will not run off with it without me.”
“You do?”
Why was he being so difficult? “It’s only across the street. I won’t be but a moment.”
“We shouldn’t be separated,” Max warned.
“You are far too overprotective,” Rosemary dismissed.
“I’ll go with you after we’ve made inquiries in the pawn shop.”
She didn’t want him to go, or he might ask what kind of book she was looking for, then offer to help. The type of book didn’t matter, only the size and whether it was sturdy enough to press flowers. She certainly couldn’t explain the purpose because then he’d think she was being sentimental or assume there was more behind her actions. No, he’d assume the truth, and she couldn’t allow Max to know she had any emotions tied to him.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll only be a moment.”
He narrowed he eyes on her, looked to the shop, then back to Rosemary. “If you don’t return shortly, I will come find you.”
“You’ll barely note my absence because I’ll be back before you miss me,” she promised. Not that Max would actually miss her. He simply took to protecting her when in his presence.
Really, Max was worse than her father had ever been.
“Very well, but don’t be long.”
And even though he gave permission, as if he were her guardian or parent and she was a child, Max stood on the walk and watched her cross the street and enter the shop. When she glanced back after reaching her destination, he’d finally gone into the pawn shop.”
“How may I help ya miss?”
“I’m simply in need of something to read,” she dismissed as she reviewed the titles while gauging which book was of the right size for pressing flowers. Then she found the perfect book of sonnets. It would not be too heavy to carry, and she could tie a ribbon to keep it shut while pressing the flowers.
“I’ll take this one.” Then she retrieved the funds after he named the price and carried it back out with her. Rosemary glanced across the street but did not see Max and assumed he was still within the pawn shop.
She glanced one way and then the other, but couldn’t cross because of horses, wagons, and hackneys. Why was the street suddenly full of conveyances and people?
Just as the last hackney was about to pass so that she could cross, a hand covered her mouth while an arm wrapped about her middle and lifted her off the ground to be carried away.
Chapter 18
Why did Rosemary want a book? He’d not seen her read the entire time they’d been together, nor did he recall books being in her possession whenever he encountered her outside of England. She traveled light, as did he. They only carried their clothing and essentials and neither traveled with trunks, as he’d seen so many in Society do, even when going on a short holiday.
He understood that she didn’t feel the need to be present to ask about a sword when they both knew that there wouldn’t be one, but why hadn’t she waited until they were finished at the pawn shop? He would have escorted her across the street.
It was likely nothing would happen to either of them, and she was right that Rylan wouldn’t bother with them until the sword was in their possession, but he didn’t like being too far away in case she needed his assistance or protection.
Max stood back and waited to speak to the owner of the shop, who was wrapping an item for another customer, and glanced out the window. She was safe and he was being overly cautious.
They’d had an enjoyable day and once they were finished here, they could return to the hotel, sit for a bit, possibly drink an ale and enjoy supper before they retired for the night.
Another customer entered, a woman with a certain air about her. She offered him a sly smile as she appraised his person from his boots to his hair.
Invitation was in her brown eyes, as she drew near.
Max simply nodded but did not encourage.
Perhaps what he needed was a tumble with a stranger. A beautiful stranger. Then perhaps he’d be able to push any desire for Rosemary from his mind and loins. He hadn’t been with a woman in nearly two years. Not since Athens, where he’d found an enjoyable mistress who was quite adventurous in the bedchamber. It also ended when Rosemary arrived in pursuit of an artifact.
