But upon stepping into his office, she looked more stunned than he felt.
“Lord Helton?”
“I’m no lord here.” He grumbled.
“But…” She glanced over her shoulder to the door she’d just entered. “This is Mr. Black’s office.”
“How very observant of you.” Max turned to his employees. “Gentlemen,” he addressed them. “Will you excuse me a moment?”
Both his news editor and his secretary nodded agreeably, curious but also looking relieved to escape.
And when the door closed behind them, Max gestured to the chair that sat across from his desk. “To what do I owe the honor?”
She wore a similarly styled gown as she had the day they’d met, but this one was an olive green and the other had been gun-metal blue. But she was not smiling. All the blood seemed to have drained out of her face and her eyes looked darker, her expression wary.
“You are…” She didn’t sit. “Mr. Black?” She covered her face with her hands, and if he wasn’t mistaken, they were shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would you have been as blunt with your opinions?”
She peeked through her hands. “I’m not sure.”
Max was almost pleased to have fooled her—served her right for offering such harsh opinions without knowing who she was offering them to.
But his intent had not been to embarrass her. And as he lowered himself into his seat, he caught sight of the error-ridden paper again.
“You were right—about the dates.” It was a damnable admission.
“Of course I was right.” She remained standing, her hands clasping a stack of past issues of his newspaper. “Unlike your reporters and editors, I double check my facts before sharing them.”
“Not always,” he said. Otherwise she’d have known he was not only an earl, but also the owner of the Gazette.
She had the good grace to wince at that.
The first time they’d met, he’d come away feeling raw—insulted. At the ball, she’d insulted him again, but also somehow managed to intrigue him…
Today, he didn’t know what to think.
And yet… her confidence hit him like a shot of good whisky.
She was nothing like any lady of his acquaintance.
But she hadn’t come here to flirt with him. He scoffed, as much to himself as to her.
“My secretary said you wanted to meet with me. Was that so you could gloat?”
She was shaking her head before he finished his question. “Not at all. I’ve come to apply for a position.”
“I already have a secretary.”
“I want to be your… your precision editor. If you have one now, he isn’t doing his job. If you don’t.” She shrugged. “Then it’s obvious you need one.” She tossed her copies of his paper onto his desk. “I’m a skilled writer, but also, if you look through these, you’ll see I’ve an excellent eye for finding errors. If you want to rehabilitate this paper, my lord, you’d do well to hire me.”
“I am not a lord here,” Max snapped. He made this rule quite clear to all his employees.
She lifted her chin, and then… “If you insist.”
Max ought to send her away. It would be too messy. Hiring a debutante to look for mistakes in his paper would make him the laughingstock of Fleet Street.
And yet, he was halfway to being that anyway. And it had been her who’d pointed out the mistake about the dates. The papers she’d brought looked to be marked up more than the ones he’d read through.
