“But there must be someone,” Colleen said. “A sailor you know about, someone who needed a bit more blunt. We just want to talk to him. We’re not here to get anyone in trouble.” She peeked at Max from the corner of her eye. She hoped he wouldn’t make a liar out of her.
Max dug into his pocket and came up with a leather pouch. He tossed it on the desk, and it landed with a solid clink. “We’d be most appreciative.”
Seagrumn’s fingers twitched, but he only touched the bag with his gaze. A hot, greedy gaze that almost matched the way Max had looked at her body last night.
“If I did know of someone, what guarantees do I have that you won’t tell him how you got his name?” Seagrumn dropped his face closer to the pouch. Colleen wouldn’t have been surprised if the man could count each guinea simply by the bulge they made against the leather. “I can’t have this coming back to me.”
“I will have forgotten your name before I make it back to my carriage,” Max assured him. “And, if your information leads somewhere, there will be more where that came from.” He nodded at the pouch. “A lot more.”
Seagrumn’s pink tongue darted out, moistening his lips. He looked at the pouch, at Max, at Colleen, and back to the pouch. “Dancer.”
“Pardon me?” Max looked as confused as Colleen felt.
“The sailor’s name is Dancer. Harvey Dancer.” Seagrumn scooped the pouch into a waiting hand. “And if you want any information from him, I’d suggest you don’t joke about his name. He’s right touchy about it.”
“And this Mr. Dancer worked for Zed?” Colleen straightened. Perhaps Max could wrap up this investigation within the week. Pay her what she was due. That flower shop could be hers come Monday.
“I’m not certain, but the yahoo does a lot of odd jobs for a lot of unsavory people when he’s not out at sea.” Pushing to his feet, Seagrumn rounded his desk. “If anyone knows something about who you’re looking for, it would be him.”
Colleen stood. “And where do we find this Dancer?”
“Any time after five, you can find him at The Boar’s Head. He drinks his earnings away just as soon as he makes them.” Seagrumn opened the office door and waved them through. “And, that, my dear Mrs. Bonner, concludes our business, wouldn’t you say?”
Never one to push her luck, Colleen thanked the man and strode from the office. Max padded softly behind her. One of the clerks glanced at them curiously before delving back into his work.
Outside the building, Colleen slid on her gloves. “Well, there you go.” She strode for the carriage. “I can’t understand why it’s taken you and your friends so long to catch this Zed. Finding him seems like a fairly simple undertaking.” She shouted instructions up to the driver.
“Let’s wait to see what this Dancer has to tell us,” Max said dryly, handing her up the steps. “It won’t be so easy, I guarantee you.”
She fluffed her skirts about her. “I don’t know. I think I have a talent for this spy business.”
Max stilled. “Spy business?”
“Oh, was that supposed to be a secret?” Colleen nibbled on her bottom lip. Men could be prickly about being outwitted by a woman. She blew out a breath and shrugged. She didn’t have time for artifice. Max would have to come to terms with her knowledge. “A baron hunting a blackmailer only makes sense if you’re personally being drained or if you’re an agent for the government. You’re not the type of man to do something that could be blackmailed over. Not something truly bad. That only leaves the latter option.”
They sat in silence for a moment. “I don’t deserve your praise,” he said, voice low. “But I thank you for it.”
He laid his hand on the seat between them, his finger brushing hers, and Colleen felt her heartbeat quicken. No matter how fast she tried to brick up the wall between her and Max, he found a way to knock it back down.
Clearing her throat, she brought the conversation back to business. “Like I said before, I think I’m good at this. When we talk with Dancer later, I’ll bet you that I’ll have him spilling everything he knows in five minutes.”
Max snorted. “That is a theory we’ll never know to be true or false. You’re not going to The Boar’s Head.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Tugging his waistcoat down, Max kicked a boot up on the bench across from them. “For one who’s such a stickler for proprieties, you seem most unwilling to follow the most basic tenets of decorum. Women don’t go to taverns. It would be unseemly.”
“Unseemly?” Colleen narrowed her eyes. “That’s rich coming from a man who owns a Venus club and goes about as unshaven as a goat.”
But damn him, he was right. A woman couldn’t just walk into a tavern without attracting notice. Not unless she was disguised, somehow. As a serving girl? She tossed aside that idea. Acting wasn’t one of her greater skills. She sighed. There was nothing for it but to let him go it alone.
Max ran his fingers through his whiskers, looking nonplussed. “You don’t like my beard?”
“It’s fine.” She quite liked his facial hair and all the delightful places it could scratch. Not that she’d let him know it. “That’s not the point.” The carriage slowed, and Colleen peered outside. She pointed at Mr. Ridley’s flower shop. “Thatis the point. However this gets done is all right with me, as long as I get my money to buy that shop.” She chewed on her bottom lip, gaze fixated on the front window. Bouquets of bright yellow daffodils gave the store a cheery appearance. She wanted to go in but didn’t want to have to tell Mr. Ridley she still didn’t have his money. Couldn’t bear to hear if he’d sold already to another buyer.
Max cupped her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to stand in the way of your dreams.”
“But you did.”
