Instead, Max would make use of another tactic—he’d drink ale and listen.

  Unfortunately, after sitting there for nearly two hours, not one person had spoken to him, nor was there mention of a sword. He took another drink and willed himself to patience. He’d sit here all night if need be. If nothing came from this endeavor, tomorrow he’d visit the next rookery on his list. Nor would he remain here much longer. It was growing late, and he did not want to be in the unfamiliar area after dark.

  He rarely had luck in pawnshops as the owners were often tight lipped on how they came by an item and charged exorbitant fees before providing information. However, Rosemary would probably gain more information with a smile than Max ever could with a pound note, and he feared that wherever she’d begun her search that she might already know more than he.

  Or perhaps not, he amended as another patron entered the tavern.

  “Bloody hell,” Max mumbled under his breath. He didn’t need to see her face to know that beneath the faded calico dress and disarray of midnight hair beneath a straw bonnet was Rosemary. He’d know her perfectly voluptuous figure no matter what disguise she wore.

  When she turned, and he finally viewed her face, Max had further confirmation, especially since slung over her shoulder and across her body was that tattered bag that she liked to call a satchel.

  Despite her appearance of a simple woman, down on her luck, men still watched Rosemary, some with lust in their eyes. He could hardly blame them, especially since her breasts had been a fascination to him since first taking note at the excavations. Wherever they happened to be located, Rosemary often adapted her clothing for comfort or the culture of her location. At an excavation, she fell back on wearing riding habits from an earlier era because she liked the freedom of the skirt and the shirt that allowed her to remove a jacket if the sun became too unbearably hot, which it often did. And in the earlier style, her breasts were emphasized more because of the fitted waist of her skirt.

  Max much preferred the styles of that clothing over what women wore today because it was bloody difficult to tell how they were shaped when the only portion of a gown that was fitted was the bodice.

  However, Rosemary’s appearance here reminded him of how careless she could be. Even though he knew that it was likely she’d find her way into the rookeries as he had, now that he knew that she was here, he’d need to watch out for her, whether she liked it or not.

  Blast! He didn’t need the distraction. Crisp shouldn’t have told her about the sword.

  Rosemary stood just inside the door and glanced about, squinting, as if her eyes needed to become used to the darkness after being out in the afternoon sun. She then took a deep breath, her breasts rising and falling before she marched to the barkeep. He paused in his washing of mugs and took in her appearance from the top of her head to whatever he could see that wasn’t blocked by the bar.

  “This ain’t no place for a miss.”

  Rosemary’s spine stiffened and Max bit back a grin.

  “I’m in need of work,” she announced.

  Bloody hell, she’d get far more than she bargained for if Rosemary hoped only to gain a position as a barmaid.

  “Is that so? There’s a nice establishment just around the corner that would happily give you a position.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’d be yer best customer.”

  A few of the patrons guffawed at the suggestion.

  “It’s not a bawdy house that I seek, sir,” Rosemary firmly informed him. “Barmaid, if such a position is available.”

  He looked her over again, pausing a little too long in admiring her breasts, before he looked to the men sitting nearby. “What say you men, a pretty barmaid to serve you drinks?”

  “If a tup or two is in the offering,” one called out.

  “There will be no tupping,” she glared at him.

  “Then what good are you for?” another asked in challenge.

  “You won’t be needed to get off your arse to fetch your own drinks,” Rosemary countered.

  At least the patrons laughed at her instead of being offended.

  “We don’t need another barmaid.”

  Max turned to note the woman standing at the foot of the stairs, a man behind her.

  “Is that your position?” Rosemary inquired.

  “Aye.”

  “Then I must disagree, as you weren’t at your post and nowhere to be seen.”

  “That’s because Missy is real good of taking care of us.” The man beside Missy slapped her behind before strutting to a table and taking a seat.

  “I’ll only consider you if yer willing to be as accommodating as Missy there,” the barkeep said. “Otherwise, I got no use for you.”

  Rosemary drew herself up. “Very well then. Good day.”

  Max watched as she crossed the tavern and exited. At least she hadn’t been accosted, but what would become of her if she applied in each tavern in Clerkenwell?

  Why couldn’t she visit pawn shops? Those at least offered a bit of safety, whereas anything was likely to happen to her in a tavern.

  Though, knowing Rosemary, she’d go anywhere that was necessary to find an antiquity, which could land her in a dangerous predicament, and it was likely she’d already visited the same pawn shops that Max had.

  Even though she’d been on her own, seeking relics for four years, and no harm had come to her, none of those places had been nearly as dangerous as a London rookery.

  Bloody hell!

  Did he stay here and keep listening in hope that he might hear something of the sword, or go after her to make certain she wasn’t harmed?

  As he sat there pondering his options, a man who had watched Rosemary a little too closely exited the establishment and Max knew his decision had been made. After tossing coins on the table, he settled his hat on his head and followed.

  Rosemary was willing to do almost anything to find the sword. What the barkeep suggested was not one of them. Not that she was surprised, and had anticipated such a response, but she still needed to ask. She’d already visited each of the pawn shops and learned nothing, and had hoped that perhaps by serving drinks in a tavern that she might learn something. In retrospect, she didn’t have the time for such as she needed to search a different rookery. Except, it was too late to start someplace new. She thought perhaps that after she had spent a bit of time in a tavern talking to the patrons that she might have learned something, even if she would have had to come out and ask directly, but she wasn’t given the opportunity.

  She was also very much aware that she’d been watched very closely by the male patrons of the tavern. Max being one of them. It irritated her that because of the simple fact that he was a male, he could go anywhere he wished, whereas she was limited unless she was willing to lift her skirts, which she most certainly was not.

  Since stepping back out into the waning sunshine, Rosemary remained aware of not only her surroundings, but anyone who might follow. There were a few men inside that made her uncomfortable, so she stayed alert, her hand on her blade as she paused beside a street vendor and glanced back to make certain she’d not been followed. When the man with the cold, hard eyes emerged from the Rickety Cross, Rosemary ducked out of sight and watched, hoping he turned in the opposite direction.

  Unfortunately, he walked toward her, and just as she was about to slip into a shop, Max also stepped onto the walk. The cold-eyed man slipped into an alley, but Max continued toward her. Frowning, she watched to avoid being seen by Max when he was grabbed and dragged into the alley. Alarmed, Rosemary straightened. It never occurred to her that she might need to fear for Max. She hurried toward the alley in case he needed assistance, which was unlikely, but Max would come to hers in the same predicament.

  As she neared the entry, Rosemary slowed her steps and paused at the edge before peeking into around the corner. The cold-eyed man had Max up against the brick wall, one arm braced across Max’s chest, while he held a knife to Max’s throat.

  “What are you wanting around here?”

  Max’s arms came up, hands out, as if surrendering. “Down on my luck. Needing work. That’s all.”

  “Don’t think so. I know a nob when I see one.”

  “I’m not a nob,” Max defended. “I’ve been put out of my position.”

  “What position was that?”

  “Footman.”

  Rosemary nearly snorted. Nobody would ever believe that Lord Maxwell Trent had once been a footman. If that was what he wanted people to believe then he’d better not dress so nicely next time.

  The man pushed the knife against Max’s skin.

  “What do you really want?”

  “Nothing?” he defended.

  “What about the woman?”

  “What woman?”

  “The one looking to be a barmaid. You were watching her like you know her.”

  “I was only watching her,” Max said.

  “I got eyes and you two are playing at something.”

  How had he even guessed that they knew one another…Blast! She’d seen Max and reacted before she remembered herself. He’d scowled at her.

  This was her fault that he was in this predicament.

  “I swear to you that we aren’t.”

  “Makes no difference to me. I’m gonna kill ya anyway then find and enjoy the tart.”

  Rosemary rushed forward, her blade drawn. Just as the man pressed his into Max’s throat drawing blood, she placed hers against the man’s. “You won’t be enjoying anything,” she hissed in his ear.

  It startled the man just enough that he loosened his hold and Max was able to knock the blade away before he brought a fist to the man’s stomach. Rosemary barely had enough time to move her knife away before she cut his throat as the man doubled over. Max then thrust his knee into the man’s chin, sending him backwards to land on his back in the dirt and muck. Served him right.

  Max leaned back against the building and rubbed his hand.

  Rosemary was relieved that the cut to his neck was only a nick and that there wasn’t much blood, thank goodness. “Explain to me again how I’m the one who needs to be protected?”

  Her question earned a glare from Max.

  “I had it well in hand.”

  “Clearly.” She slipped her kaiken back into the pocket just inside the satchel where she could easily grasp it when needed. “Did you at least gather any information on the sword?”

  He snorted. “Do you honestly think that I’d tell you?”

  “The answer then is no,” she answered with confidence.

  “Why do you assume so?” he asked as they walked back to the street, the man still out cold behind them.

  “You’d gloat,” she answered. “You’d not be able to help yourself.”

  “How do you know that I wasn’t leaving the Rickety Cross in pursuit of the sword. I may have stopped in to simply enjoy an ale in celebration of my find.”

  This time Rosemary snorted. “First, you’d not stop to have an ale if you had information. Second, you left the tavern because that man had followed me, and you thought to save me.”

  He could deny it with his dying breath, and she’d never believe him.

  “It could have been both,” he argued.

  Oh, she didn’t wish to bicker with him any longer. It had already been a long day. The last rays of sunlight were soon to disappear, and the shadows were starting to lengthen along the narrow street. Therefore, it was best to find supper, a room for the night, and visit the next rookery on her list tomorrow.

  “If you are so certain that I’ve not learned anything, then I can only assume you have not either.”

  She’d like to deny the claim, but he’d know better. Why else would she have been seeking employment as a barmaid. “Nothing.” She sighed.

  “Neither have I,” he admitted and then took her arm. “It was reckless for you to visit a tavern,”

  “I was not being reckless,” Rosemary argued. “Besides, you were the one who needed rescuing, not I.” And she’d never let him forget it either.

  “Come on,” he tugged on her arm. “It’s growing dark, and neither one of us need to be out and about in this area after the sun goes down.”

  “I need to find a room.” The girls at the foundling home had warned her of the dangers. Thugs, ruffians, prostitutes, thieves, and murderers haunted these allies after dark, and she had no intention of becoming a victim, but Rosemary wasn’t so certain she now had time to be gone from the area before it grew too dark, so she’d decided on finding a room nearby.

  “As do I, and I am in need of a meal as well.”

  Her stomach grumbled at the thought of food, as she hadn’t eaten since she’d broken her fast. “Supper and lodgings,” she agreed.

  Max escorted her a few streets away and stopped before a public house. Even if it didn’t have the safety as one would enjoy in an area such as Piccadilly, it didn’t seem as worrisome as the Rickety Cross, or the area they’d just left.

  At least there were women inside, and though their morality might be in question, it gave Rosemary comfort that she’d not be surrounded by men alone.

  Max led her to a back-corner table but took the chair so that his back was against the wall so he could watch the patrons. Rosemary hated having her back to the room but knew that it would be a waste of time to argue with him. Instead, she smiled up at the servant while Max ordered supper and tankards of ale.

  Chapter 5

  Nothing was more humiliating or irritating than Rosemary coming to his rescue. Not that Max needed rescuing, as he’d had the situation in hand, yet she’d never believe him.

  He didn’t even know the name of the man who had dragged him into the alley, but he’d been dangerous. Max had never seen such cold, hard eyes in his life, but he hadn’t been in fear for his life either. He simply needed an opening. Rosemary arrived before he’d gotten the opportunity, and she’d likely never let him forget.

  “Do you truly need lodgings?” he asked. Max had assumed Rosemary would retreat to the safety of the foundling home.

  “I’d not considered the possibility until it grew later than I’d realized.” She leaned in. “I know you consider me careless, but given where we are, I don’t think it wise to walk until I find a hackney to return me to the foundling home.”

  That offered some comfort. “I’ll escort you.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “How can I trust that you won’t see me to the foundling home and then return here to hunt for the sword?”

  He grinned. “You can’t.”

  “Did you learn nothing from your adventure in the alley?” she returned. “That man nearly slit your throat.”

  “Aye, but he didn’t,” Max reminded her. “Where did your search take you so that I don’t waste my time inquiring?”

  “Why should I tell you?” she countered. “You’ve the advantage of taverns and other places I cannot go, so I won’t make it even easier for you.”

  “I can assume you visited pawn shops and the like?”

  She simply smiled at him, and Max couldn’t blame her. They rarely shared information when on the same quest, so he shouldn’t expect her to tell him anything now.

  However, as much as he wished to beat Rosemary to the sword, the fact that he had an advantage of being able to go more places because he was a male didn’t seem very fair. “If I promise not to search when you cannot, will you tell me?”

  Besides, it was too late to visit another rookery tonight. They became more dangerous the darker the night, and he’d already had one knife at his throat today. Instead, he’d make certain that Rosemary found a safe place to sleep, or even escort her back to the foundling home, as he’d not be able to relax or even rest until he knew she was in a secure place.

  It was odd that he’d never had these same concerns in any other city. Well, other than when Rylan was on their trail, but Max hadn’t really feared for Rosemary’s safety before. Yet here, in the rookeries of London, it wasn’t safe for her, and probably not him.

  She narrowed her brown eyes. “Why should I trust you?”

  “I’m an honorable man,” Max defended.

  “You have your advantages and I have mine.” She smiled.

  What advantage did she have that he did not? Max could think of nothing, but by her secret smile, he’d need to give more serious thought to her options so that he didn’t overlook them.

  “You should send for Cronus and Crius.” Then he wouldn’t have to worry about her not having protection from criminals.

  “This is London, not a foreign country,” she dismissed.

  She was correct, however parts of London could still be dangerous, as they’d both realized today.

  “I’d feel better if you sent for them,” he finally said.

  “I’m perfectly fine, Max,” she countered. “Besides, I’ll have the sword before they’d probably arrive and then their travel would be for naught.”

  “You’ll have the sword,” he snorted.

  “Of course,” she offered with confidence, and Max was beginning to wonder if she did learn something today, not that she’d tell him.

  “It’s odd, hunting for an antiquity in London.”

  “It is,” she agreed.

  “Do you find the city to be just as strange as any other, even though we are English?”

  She quietly laughed. “I know Jerusalem, Baghdad, and Athens better than I know London.”

  “Perhaps we’ve been too long from home.”

  “We are strangers here as much as we’ve been anywhere else,” she agreed.

  At least Rosemary understood, and Max wasn’t certain anyone else would. “You began your travels with your parents not long after you left school. Did you even have a Season?”

  “Not in the sense that others enjoy a Season.”

  She frowned and Max wasn’t certain what she meant.