Or so he’d believed.
Max dropped into the chair behind his desk. Had he checked the date? It was one of the first things on his checklist. He pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“This doesn’t make sense.”
Wallace tugged on his ear, shaking his head. “It was late. Anyone could have missed it.”
But that excuse had been used too many times already. This could not go on.
Max cupped the back of his neck.
How the devil had he missed these?
He’d owned the paper for a full year now, and although he’d invested heavily in modern equipment, the actual content had taken a turn for the worse.
There was a knock at the door, and Frederick Jones, Maxwell’s secretary, took a tentative step inside. Jones, a tall and wiry man who looked younger than his years, handled most of their advertising accounts, but also Max’s schedule and payroll. He moved around the office quietly and Max didn’t know what he’d do without him.
“There’s a young woman here to see you, Mr. Black,” he said.
“Tell her I’m busy.” He didn’t need to hear from disgruntled readers at the moment. Dropping his gaze to the paper again, the date mocked him.
In Lady Caroline’s voice.
Max slammed a fist onto his desk, chasing the clerk away and causing Wallace to jump.
“Perhaps you’re too close. We all are. We could hire a person whose sole job is to proof the galleys,” his editor suggested.
“Perhaps,” Max replied. But he’d been so sure of himself. How was he going to trust anyone else to care as much as he did? His spine itched. Was there something more at play here?
Mr. Jones returned, interrupting Maxwell’s spiraling thoughts. The man was clutching his hands together, his face a dull shade of red. “She, er… refuses to leave.”
Max shot the man an annoyed glance. “Just get rid of her, will you?”
“She’s quite insistent, says you will want to hear what she has to say. And I couldn’t help but notice that she’s brought past editions of the paper with her… all marked up…” Mr. Jones flicked a meaningful glance to Max’s desk. “Like those.”
“What does she want?” Wallace asked.
“She says she is here to…” Mr. Jones shrank toward the door. “Help prevent further rubbish from being printed. I believe she is seeking employment.”
Lady Caroline’s criticisms came to mind, and if the person wasn’t looking for employment, Max would have guessed that their unwanted visitor was the young woman herself.
Wallace, meanwhile, raised his brows. “It can’t hurt to speak with her, can it?”
When Max didn’t answer right away, Mr. Jones spoke again. “She looks intelligent, for what it’s worth.”
Max flexed his fingers and then made a fist. He was in no mood to make nice today. “Tell her to come back tomorrow.”
Mr. Jones dipped his chin and backed out of the room a second time, leaving Max and his news editor to ponder their troubles once again.
True, Max could hire someone to read through the paper, but as the publisher and editor-in-chief, he was responsible for all that was printed. “Do you have someone in mind?” He pinned his stare on Wallace.
“I know of a few…”
Just then, the door opened again. But this time, it was a woman who entered—a woman who was becoming all too familiar—followed by a harried-looking Mr. Jones.
“Lady Caroline?”
Maxwell rose instinctively, his heart making an unexpected leap. He’d been more than a little rushed when escorting her back inside the night before. Because of what she’d told him… What more could she have to say on the matter?
