The more he tried not to dwell on the events of a few hours before, the more they haunted him—the memory of his reporter holding a knife at Caroline’s neck, of her being manhandled around the printing press, and then… so much blood. There was also the sound of the gears, almost grinding to a halt, and then turning again.
Not to mention the smell.
He’d thought he’d seen everything. Apparently, he had not.
He hadn’t known Pip particularly well, but he had worked alongside the man for months, trusted him as much as he’d trusted any of his employees. For him to have died in such a way, only minutes after his betrayal was discovered, after taking an innocent woman hostage—Max never would have guessed the feeble little man was capable of such treachery.
Crossing the length of Mrs. Rutherford’s drawing room for what felt like the thousandth time, Max rubbed the back of his neck, scrubbed a hand down his face, and tugged at his hair.
He’d had no choice but to hand her over to her mother and sister’s care, but he’d refused to leave until he knew all the details of her condition.
Mrs. Rutherford had suggested Max dash home to bathe and return later. They would know more then, she’d said. When Max had refused, she’d given him a look of approval and left the room. Two minutes later she’d returned with a few linen cloths and a small basin of warm water.
By the time he was finished, the water had turned completely red. But that had been hours ago. Hadn’t it?
What was taking so long?
Right when he was at his wits’ end, the door opened to admit Caroline’s brother.
“How is she?” Max’s voice caught.
“She’s sleeping,” Standish said. “She’ll have a scar, but Dr. Hill says the cut was superficial. She’s not in any danger.”
The words were exactly what Max needed to hear, and dizzy at the news, he all but fell onto the settee behind him. And then exhaled a long, shaking sigh of relief.
“We need to talk.” Standish took the chair across from Max.
Nearly a year ago, Max had all but blackmailed the man seated across from him. Today, he would beg for permission to marry his sister.
“I ought to call you out.” Standish leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his hands dangling between them.
“You should.” But Max hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and the right words suddenly eluded him. As a result, he got straight to the point. “I love her,” he said. “I want to marry her.”
“You’d be a dead man if you didn’t.” Reed Rutherford might be new to the ton, but that didn’t mean he was intimidated by any of them. “Have you asked her yet?”
He had not. Not because he felt even an ounce of reluctance, but because he wanted her fully alert and well when they had that particular discussion.
“Not yet.”
“She’s not going to appreciate you asking me first.” Her brother let out a hint of a laugh for the first time since he’d barged into Max’s office at the Gazette. “But I do.”
“It’s complicated,” Max said. “As her brother, you deserve to know who I am—what I am.” Exposing his secrets to Standish was risky—because of the animosity from their previous association. The earl had no reason to keep Max’s secret to himself.
In the past, Max had always put his mother’s needs above everything else. And although he’d continue protecting and caring for her, going forward, his first priority would be Caroline.
She was his future. Or would be, if she didn’t hate him when she learned the truth.
“I’m not who she thinks I am—or who anyone thinks I am,” Max began. “Might as well come clean with you first.”
“What do you mean?” Standish glowered.
“I was twelve when I learned the truth about my family. They say one never hears anything good when they’re eavesdropping. Let me assure you, wiser words have never been spoken.”
“Are you talking about the rumors about your father?”
Max’s head snapped up and he clamped his mouth shut. What did Standish know?
The man smirked. “I’m not as uninformed of society’s goings-on as my sister thinks I am. Hell, as most people think I am. And I’m not inclined to change anyone’s opinion. Being underestimated comes in handy sometimes, as I’m sure you know.” Standish’s stare locked with Max’s. “But, regarding the Helton earldom, people know. According to my mother, they’ve known for a very long time.”
