“It is when you are without protection with the likes of Rylan about. He’d use any method at his disposal to relieve you of your antiquities.”

  She’d enough of this conversation. “I do not need to be protected, and certainly not coddled, Max,” Rosemary informed him. “If you don’t approve of the way I conduct myself, then I suggest we avoid encountering each other in the future, including here.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and marched away. How dare he have the audacity to tell her how to comport herself!

  Oh, if only he saw her as a capable woman, instead of a child to be watched, things might be different between them. But so long as Max continued to dictate her actions and behavior, she’d push that stupid infatuation deep down inside until it died.

  Why it wasn’t dead already, she didn’t know, but Rosemary wished she didn’t want more.

  Max tamped down the anxiousness that developed from being inactive for too long. However, he was glad that he’d come home and spent these last few weeks with his family. It was the first time he’d been in the same location with his four brothers and two sisters in years, and nobody knew when it would occur again.

  It wasn’t just family who had stayed at the manor, but also his sister’s friends, which included Rosemary. Max was still angry that she’d disappeared on him, leaving only a note.

  Yes, one of the things he admired most about Rosemary was her independence, however, she was also a woman. Her gender alone required that she be protected, even if she’d reached an age in which many gentlemen would consider her on the shelf, which was a ridiculous assessment by Society as a whole. As if a woman ceased being of value as a potential mother for heirs because she’d passed a certain age. Rosemary was only twenty-six, not sixty-two.

  Although Max was glad that she was safe, that didn’t mean he still wasn’t irritated since it had been festering for nearly seven months. So much so that after their argument they’d barely been cordial to the other during this visit.

  She shouldn’t have run out on him, and she shouldn’t have taken the scroll to Italy. What irritated him the most was that he’d never learn what was written on the papyrus and why it was so important that it had to be hidden away. It couldn’t have been a simple coincidence that the jar was left in a cave.

  They were answers he’d never have.

  “I thought you always delivered your antiquities to Rome,” Gideon, his twin, asked after Max had explained more thoroughly about the scroll and why he’d been upset with Rosemary.

  “I did in the beginning and when they were religious. No longer.” He’d learned so much since that first year.

  “That explains why you are visiting Rome once you leave here.”

  That had been the plan. He had a few contacts within the Vatican who he had delivered religious antiquities to previously and had hoped they’d be able to tell him what had been written. That was no longer his plan, though he had no intention of telling anyone. Not that Gideon would discourage him, but Max didn’t want to risk anyone accidentally mentioning his next destination where Rosemary may hear. However, he did need to confide in one person for his subterfuge to be successful. It just wasn’t his twin.

  He needed to get to London. An antiquity had made its way there and not by the way of the British Museum or a collector, and he was going after it. A message had been delivered to him in the early morning hours a few days ago, and he was confident that Rosemary knew nothing about the sword. This would be his find and he was off to London as soon as he said goodbye to his family.

  “You are pacing like a caged animal,” Gideon observed.

  Max was pacing. While his brother relaxed in the library with a brandy, Max could no longer simply sit.

  “It was good to have you home,” Gideon offered. “But you also can’t wait to be gone again.”

  “Not that I won’t miss you, but you are also aware that I’ve difficulty remaining in one place for long.”

  “The ship sails in the morning if the tide is right, which it should be,” Harrison, their younger brother announced as he joined them.

  Gideon tipped back what was left of his drink. “I’m exhausted from watching you wear a path in the rug.” He stood. “I think I’ll retire, but perhaps we could ride in the morning, before you need to leave for the ship.”

  Max turned to his twin. “I’d like that.” He and Gideon were close, being twins, but the need to travel was strong, and he’d return when he could.

  After Gideon said his goodnight and quit the room, Max turned to Harrison. “Close the door.”

  Harrison did as Max requested before he crossed to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of brandy.

  “I will not be returning to Italy, but I need for everyone to believe I have,” he announced, though his tone was low even though it was unlikely anyone outside of the library would hear him.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve received word of a relic, believed to have been lost during the French Revolution, which may have found its way to London.”

  “What do you intend to do with it, if it’s found?” Harrison asked.

  “Return it to France, where it belongs, but first, it would be a great honor to have simply had it in my possession for even a short time.”

  “Why do you want everyone to think that you are going to Italy when you are not?”

  “Miss Rosemary Fairview,” he answered.

  “Ah, you simply don’t wish to be bested,” Harrison chuckled, to which Maxwell was insulted.

  “First, she would not best me in this. I simply don’t wish to have her underfoot making the search more difficult than it needs to be.” Besides, she was a distraction. Not that he’d admit such to anyone.

  “How are you going to manage to sail to Italy but travel to London instead?”

  “That is where I’ll need your assistance,” Max answered, then laid out his plan. “We will say our goodbyes on the docks, I will board the ship, then slip over the side where no one will see. I need to have a boat waiting that can hide me and deliver me further up the coast. There, I’ll hire a carriage and be on my way.” Since Harrison captained his own ship and was familiar with the docks, he could see that Max’s plan worked.

  “What if you encounter Miss Fairview?”

  “She plans to leave for Dover and sail from there. I will take roads less traveled on my journey to London, and by the time she’s settled in Greece, which is her destination, I’ll likely have already found the antiquity without her being the wiser.”

  Chapter 2

  Rosemary waited not so patiently for Max to wave farewell to his family and disappear from the deck as the ship prepared to sail. The last person she needed in England, most especially London, was Max.

  A few days ago, she’d received a message that an antiquity had found its way to London, most likely ill-gotten, and she was determined to find the sword, enjoy having it in her possession if only for a short time, and then return it to the rightful owner. However, she couldn’t afford to have Max dogging her steps. Or worse, finding it first.

  It had been difficult to contain her excitement and restlessness when she’d wanted to leave for London immediately. While others might not think it odd for Rosmary to bring an end to her visit earlier than planned, Max would question the abrupt departure and most likely follow. Instead, she continued to talk of her excitement to return to Greece and announced that passage had been booked for her departure from Dover in a fortnight. Which was not dishonest. She was excited to return to Greece, and passage had already been booked before she had learned of the antiquity. Her trip would simply be delayed. And now that Max’s ship was soon to sail, with him safely aboard, Rosemary was free to travel to London unhindered.

  “We must hurry if we are to arrive in Dover in time,” Eliza Weston announced once they were seated inside the carriage along with the Westbrook twins.

  Eliza, Victoria, and Olivia were dear friends, and had been since they had attended the Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies, along with Sophia. Even though time and distance had separated them this past nine years, the friendships were still strong and close. It was Sophia who had called them together recently with her return to England, and why they’d been in Cornwall in the first place. Now that Sophia was returning to her home in Italy, Eliza, Victoria, and Olivia decided to accompany Rosemary to Dover before they returned to London.

  “We aren’t going to Dover,” she finally confessed now that it was safe to do so.

  “Where are we off to then?” Olivia inquired.

  “London!” Rosemary grinned.

  “Why didn’t you say so before?” Victoria asked in confusion. “Or did you just abruptly change your plans?”

  “You never had any intention of going to Dover or Greece, did you?” Eliza, who knew her better than anyone, studied Rosemary. “What are you hiding from Lord Maxwell?” she pressed.

  “I had every intention of going to Greece until three days ago.” Rosemary couldn’t help but grin. “I just couldn’t let Lord Maxwell know that I’d changed my mind.”

  “What’s in London?” Eliza eagerly asked.

  “The missing sword of Joan of Arc.”

  Stunned silence greeted her.

  “There is a missing sword?” Olivia blinked in surprise.

  “Yes, and if it’s real, it might just be one of the greatest finds of the century.”

  “That’s a rather bold statement for it only being 1815.”

  Rosemary dismissed Victoria. “This decade, then.”

  “Weren’t all her belongings destroyed when she was burned at the stake?” Olivia asked. “At least, I had assumed they’d been, though I honestly don’t know.”

  “It is believed that letters, her standard, a ring and a sword were in possession of her brothers, then kept in the family through the generations. During the Revolution, the standard was destroyed, and her ring and sword disappeared. Only her letters survived.”

  “Truly?” Eliza asked cynically. “Here, I thought you were going to share with us an ancient myth with no proof.”

  “The Revolution wasn’t so very long ago,” Victoria reminded her.

  “Joan had three swords,” Rosemary continued. “One, she’d captured from a Burgundian during a battle, one given to her in Vaucouleurs by Sir Robert de Baudricourt, and the third,” Rosemary paused for added suspense, “found buried behind the altar in the chapel of Saint Catherine.”

  “Buried in a chapel?” Olivia frowned.

  “Where the voices told her that it would be.” Rosemary nodded.

  Eliza blew out a beleaguered sigh and rolled her eyes. “I was right the first time.”

  Rosemary ignored her. “The story is that after she received her armor and horse, Joan was offered a sword, which she refused. It is said that voices instructed Joan where her sword would be found. After it was unearthed, the priest set to clean it, but the rust fell away.”

  “Voices!” Eliza snorted. “Magical rust.”

  “For one who used to believe in vampires, ghosts, and witches, I find it difficult to understand why you’d so easily dismiss voices,” Rosemary argued.

  “Those were beliefs of a child, which I am no longer,” Eliza dismissed.

  “Like mummy curses,” Olivia laughed.

  “The mummy was real. The curse was not.” Eliza frowned. “The very real mummy was stolen, and it still baffles me that nobody knows where it disappeared to.”

  “Maybe you could ask Lord Maxwell to locate it. After all, Rosemary was of no assistance.” Olivia laughed.

  “If I didn’t want him as far away from England as possible, I might agree,” Rosemary grumbled. The missing mummy would likely always remain a mystery.

  “You are still searching for it, aren’t you?” Victoria asked Eliza.

  “Only if information comes my way, but I haven’t devoted my life to the pursuit.”

  “We know enough about the mummy,” Olivia complained. “I want to know more about this sword.”

  “There are many legends about the sword,” Rosemary continued with enthusiasm as it was a favorite topic of the moment. “Some say that it belonged to Charles Martel, grandfather of Charlemagne, and it was secretly buried for the next person whom God would choose to find it and save France.”

  “This sword then, it’s what she carried into battle?” Olivia asked.

  “She did wear it, but only for ceremony, until they left St. Denis after the attack on Paris.”

  Olivia and Victoria frowned. Rosemary had also found it odd that The Maid of Orléans ceased wearing it, unless it was true that it had been destroyed. Something Rosemary hoped was not true. “She may not have used the sword to kill, but she did chase prostitutes down with it, the camp followers, and would whack them with it. It is said that the sword was broken in half after she used it for swatting two trollops. The destruction upset everyone, and some considered it a bad omen. Joan claimed that the broken sword was not the one found in the chapel, though some didn’t believe her.”

  “Then which sword was broken?” Victoria asked.

  Rosemary shrugged. “Nobody knows what came of the St. Catherine sword, and during her trial, the Inquisitors pressed her about that particular sword, demanding to know where it was. Her response was ‘to tell what became of my other sword does not concern this case, and I will not answer about it now. My brothers have all my goods – my horses, my sword, so far as I know, and the rest, which are worth more than twelve thousand crowns’.”

  “Then her brothers didn’t have the St. Catherine sword,” Olivia decided.

  “It’s possible,” Rosemary agreed. “But, they had at least one of them at the time of her Inquisition. Even though she would not say where the St. Catherine sword was, why would she give it to someone else that was not family?” She’d always wondered at Joan of Arc’s words in her testimony when she’d first read it. “She also said my brothers have all my goods.”

  “So, this sword that was taken in France can be any of the three,” Victoria stated. “How can you even tell if it belonged to her.”

  Rosemary sighed. “I cannot. There is no description of the Saint Catherine sword other than it had five crosses upon it, which could have also been fleurs-de-lis, but that was not unusual for swords of that era.”

  “Do you truly believe it might be the sword of Joan of Arc?” Eliza asked.

  “To be honest, it is unlikely that it is any of her swords, which I’ve already accepted. The sword in London is probably just an old sword of little value,” Rosemary admitted. “However, I cannot dismiss the possibility either, no matter how slight. Therefore, I must find it for myself if only to appease my curiosity and so that I’m not wondering for the rest of my life if I missed out on a grand opportunity.”

  Chapter 3

  London, England, Late Summer, 1815

  * * *

  Max paused on Bolton Street in Mayfair and looked up at the townhome now owned by Lord Crispin Tilson. Max and Crisp, both being second sons, and thus spares, had set out to make their fortunes and had both been successful.

  Crisp and Max had first met in Greece and traveled together for nearly a year before Crisp returned to London. Crisp didn’t possess the same wandering spirit as Max, however he never hesitated to go into Seven Dials in search of a stolen jewel or Covent Garden to track down a missing daughter before she could be ruined. Crisp had earned a reputation as a finder—of people and things—and he always found what was being sought. It had been Crisp who had written to Max about the sword.

  One question remained—why didn’t Crisp go after the sword himself?

  Max took the two steps up to the door and used the brass knocker and waited, but not for long before a footman in deep burgundy livery promptly opened the door.

  “Lord Maxwell Trent to see Lord Crispin Tilson.”

  The footman nodded and stepped back so that Max could enter the pristine, marble entry.

  “One moment.”

  The footman then disappeared up the stairs as Max glimpsed into the open library surprised at the lack of books on the dark shelves. They weren’t completely empty, but they certainly weren’t filled either. Further, there were only two chairs, a settee and table, and what few decorations that there were within were of no value.

  Crisp was a collector of items that caught his eye and he enjoyed, no matter how old, or how new, yet none were on display.

  “Max?” A voice called from above and he stepped back to the entry only to find Crisp grinning at him from the landing.

  “Come up and join me for tea,” Crisp called in his normal good humor.

  Max ascended the stairs, also wondering what he might find above, given the starkness of the library. Perhaps Crisp wasn’t as well off as he’d led Max to believe. Or it had taken all Crisp owned to purchase this townhouse and he had been forced to sell the items he’d collected in his travels.

  His Hessians echoed on the wooden floors as he followed Crisp along the empty corridor until they stepped into a large drawing room. Max stopped, sucking in his breath. This room was filled with the oddities Crisp was known to possess. Some beneath glass coverings, others mounted on the walls, and busts purchased in Greece on pedestals. The deep blue of the upholstered furniture stood out against the white walls, and five ancient swords, each different in their design and era, were mounted above the fireplace, which had Max once again wondering why Crisp wasn’t searching for the legendary sword of Joan of Arc himself.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to respond to my missive.” Crisp settled onto the settee.

  “I was unable to leave immediately without raising suspicion.” Max settled into a chair.

  Crisp arched an eyebrow.

  “Suspicion? From whom?”

  “Miss Fairview, if you must know. We were both visiting at my brother’s home.”

  “Yes, I’m aware.” He chuckled.

  His gut tightened. “Exactly how are you aware?” Max asked slowly.