But then she’d attacked his newspaper, his baby—and ruined it all.
He was no stranger to criticism, of course. It would be damn near impossible not to step on any toes in his line of business, especially those of the nobility, who were used to operating without such scrutiny. They gossiped amongst each other and made their subtle implications and threats in the ways he had come to expect.
This was the first time, however, that anyone had insulted the paper so plainly to his face.
But rather than tell her that he was, in fact, the object of her contempt, he clenched his teeth and allowed her to continue ranting.
He’d never met the chit, and arguing would be a waste of his time.
“Not that it isn’t interesting,” she continued, shrugging delicate shoulders. “It simply isn’t dependable.” And then she smiled. “But I will stop now and apologize for being far too opinionated.”
Max blinked and stifled the offense he wanted to take. What did this woman know about running a newspaper? She was a sheltered young miss who had likely never even seen a printing press, let alone been involved in the fast-paced production process of a publication like the Gazette.
Another man might find her candidness refreshing, or even admire her forthright attitude.
But in this case, such honesty simply stung.
"And you are Miss...?" He arched an eyebrow, inviting her to fill in the blank. It was not at all proper to ask for her name without a formal introduction, but Max hadn’t been concerned with propriety for some time now.
"Caroline," she replied. "Lady Caroline."
"Lady Caroline," he repeated. She didn’t act like a typical lady. "Are you always so loud with your assessments?”
Her blue eyes widened in surprise, and the flush in her cheeks spread to her neck. "Unfortunately, yes."
He could leave the conversation here and let the woman return to her hovering chaperone, forget the whole encounter. That was what he should do, honestly.
Instead, unable to stop himself, Max pushed the issue further. "The Gazette is quite popular these days. Is there anything you like about it? Anything at all?"
He must be some sort of masochist.
Lady Caroline stared across the lake for a moment before replying. “My mother subscribed because she likes to keep up with the goings-on amongst the ton, and I admit I do appreciate that society gossip has been limited.” She tilted her head. “Unfortunately, I’ve come to realize the inaccuracies bring into question any useful information it might have."
Maxwell lifted his foot to rest on the opposite knee and leaned back, his gaze locked with hers. "It takes a keen mind to distinguish fact from fiction, especially in the world of newspapers. Do you also read the Times? The Sun? The Globe? Surely, you don’t spend all your free time searching the dailies for mistakes?”
She gave a shy smile. "Only the Gazette. But I've always been a voracious reader, and I believe the truth is more important than anything else." She glanced around the park and then frowned. “I’m afraid my maid is watching us and she is looking quite disapproving.”
“But of course.” Max ought to stand. He ought to bow.
He did neither.
“My apologies for detaining you,” he said.
She hadn’t stepped away, however. “It has, indeed, been a pleasure.”
"Indeed.” Except for the part about the Gazette being little better than a piece of trash. He could appreciate her passion for knowledge, but the unsolicited criticisms, whether she knew that was what they were or not, had greatly soured his mood.
Max supposed it wouldn’t much matter soon enough. The sun was beginning to dip in the west, which meant the lackluster individuals that made up most of society would rob the park of any peacefulness soon.
Lady Caroline glanced over her shoulder to where her maid stood by. “Good day…”
But he did not fill in his name.
“Good day, my lady.”
She dipped her chin, a delicate but stubborn looking chin, and stepped back.
And in the next moment, she was gone.
