Lord Maxwell Trent has never remained in one place for long. His fascination for history and quest for antiquities has taken him from Pompeii to Greece to Egypt, and now the search of an ancient sword has brought him to London—and back into Miss Rosemary Fairview’s orbit.
Miss Fairview has always valued her independence. Raised by travel-mad parents and fascinated by her mother’s archaeological journals, she knew that she’d never be content to settle into the dull life of running a household. When word of the lost sword brings Rosemary to London, she finds herself in pursuit of the same relic as her nemesis, Lord Maxwell Trent.
They know it’s impossible the sword once belonged to The Maid of Orléans. But that one sliver of hope, the what-if, propels them on the quest to discover the truth.
Danger stalks them from Mayfair’s drawing rooms to the maze of London’s rookeries. Can they work together to find the sword—and to survive? And will they realize that perhaps they shouldn’t have been competitors at all, but something more?
Genre: FICTION / Romance / Regency34 ratings on Amazon - average 4.5 stars / 4.2 on Goodreads 32 ratings
Shadows shifted within the chamber as Miss Rosemary Fairview quietly moved about, careful not to block what little light that filtered into the room from the setting moon. Her maid, Bess, slumbered on a pallet against the far wall. Her gentle snores the only sound filling the silence. Rosemary didn’t dare light a lamp for fear of waking Bess, as her maid would first try to stop Rosemary, and when that was unsuccessful, insist on accompanying her, along with the two guards her parents had hired for protection.
Rosemary didn’t want them about. Further, she didn’t need them. Time was of the essence, and they’d only slow her down.
She must beat Max.
Not that Rosemary knew for certain that he was in the city, but she had a feeling he was near. She could almost sense his presence.
Whenever she was on the trail of a discovered antiquity, Max usually was not far behind or ahead of her. It had become somewhat of a competition of who would reach the desired item first, with Max winning more times than not, and she was determined that he’d not best her this time.
After locating the light brown scarf, Rosemary paused only long enough to wrap it around her head and then retrieved her satchel and slung it over her shoulder so that it crossed her body before slipping out the window and onto the flat roof. It was brighter out here, for the moon was almost gone, and the sun had broken the horizon.
Her once yellow, now stained nankeen boots whispered against the stone as she rushed to the ledge. There she grasped her dark, linen skirts, bunching them as she climbed over and dropped down to the next roof. Landing solidly, her knees still bent, Rosemary paused to make certain that she’d not alerted anyone to her presence, even though her movements had been nearly silent.
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Mariana van Boekel
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Spanish
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Alicia Cárdenes Viera
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