“When do you start?”
“Tomorrow.” Caroline made an exaggerated expression of horror but quickly turned serious. “I know. But I’m ready to do this. And the sooner we clear Reed’s name once and for all, the better.”
Goldie had already pulled a paper and pencils out from the small cabinet beside her. “Lady Chaswick is hosting tonight’s ball.” She scrunched up her nose. “What kind of proof do you need?”
“Facts. Evidence.” Ever since she’d begun finding errors in the paper, she’d been thinking about the best way to verify stories. “The best proof, of course, is documentation. Remember when the paper erroneously reported that one of the teachers at Miss Primm’s had married Viscount Bloodstone? I realize she did marry him eventually, but that announcement would have been easily debunked if the reporter had just bothered to check the church registry.”
“I doubt there will be a registry of Lord Northwood’s lady friends,” Goldie pointed out.
“True. And in the absence of anything official, one must find other evidence to support the rumors. For instance. Who did he dance with, and how many times? Was he seen walking through the garden with anyone? If so, by whom? And how long? If we gather a significant amount of documented witness accounts, the case for the rumor becomes stronger—not all that different than what Scotland Yard does,” Caroline said with a grin. But then she sobered quickly. Her reasons for doing all of this were entirely serious, after all. “We need to listen for the usual gossip, of course, but also what’s being said about Reed. If I am discovered… I am discovered. It’s not like I have much to lose. You do realize I’m not really looking for a husband…”
“Are you sure?” Goldie didn’t look convinced.
“Positive.”
Goldie studied Caroline, and then, shaking her head, relented. “All right… Still. You need to be careful.”
“It’s just a job, really. All I need to do is fill the society page.” Or half-page, as it was. For now. Before long, it would be a full page. Because Caroline didn’t set out to do anything in half-measures.
“We’ll both be careful.” Goldie nodded in approval. “I don’t know how you come up with these schemes. Although, I suppose I should be grateful…” She winked at Caroline.
Caroline smirked.
“Someone has to protect my idiot brother—”
“He isn’t an idiot, Caroline.” Goldie took umbrage at the insult to her husband.
“And that, Lady Standish, is why I love you so much.” Caroline put her arm around her sister-in-law. “But to me, he’s a lovable idiot who needs someone to defend him.”
With the deaths of their family members, Reed had resisted becoming Standish at first, and he’d remained silent when faced with a barrage of accusations.
“Does he still have the nightmares?” While they’d all resided at Rutherford Place, before Reed had wed Goldie, Caroline had caught her brother pacing the grounds late at night. The deaths had tormented him. More than once, he’d admitted to feeling like an imposter.
These rumors couldn’t be helping any of that.
“About once a week,” Goldie answered. “He says he’s gotten used to them, but he doesn’t fool me. And that’s precisely why we have to put these rumors to rest once and for all. If they knew him, they’d realize their suspicions are ridiculous.”
“If they only knew him…” Caroline waited for the pieces to come together in her mind… “That gives me an idea…”
A NEW SOCIETY WRITER
“Malum’s office?” Max shook hands with Twitch, one of the two guards at the back door to the Domus Emporium.
“They’re meeting in the red lounge this afternoon, Mr. Black,” the second of the two massively built guards answered.
Max dipped his chin and they stepped aside.
He could have entered through the front entrance. The gossips of the ton hadn’t yet figured out they’d have an endless supply of fodder by watching the comings and goings at the discreet but famous establishment.
Or perhaps they didn’t really want to know…
It wasn’t that Max hadn’t been tempted to take advantage of the complimentary membership the duke had granted him. The ladies who worked at the Emporium were not only beautiful, but intelligent.
But with his mother in town for the season, along with the issues he had with the paper, he wouldn’t have time to do more than a quick poke. And that simply wasn’t him.
Waving a greeting to a few of the ladies, he marched past the stairwell that led upstairs and wove his way to one of the private sanctuaries hidden beyond the elegant gaming room.
As he entered the small but comfortable seating area draped and decorated with heavy red curtains and velvet cushions, a hand landed on his shoulder.
