This was not good! Control yourself, Caroline.
Maxwell Black was her boss and he was also the man who’d once blackmailed her brother. Her eye twitched as the sound of metal clanking against metal grew louder. When they arrived at the main floor, he pushed the door open and dropped her hand.
Much better. She could breathe again.
So why did she feel unmoored?
“Remember what I told you about the press.” He dropped his hand on her shoulder, drawing her closer to Matilda.
Two men were working on the printing press. The one standing on the tall platform sent her a suspicious glance before leaning in to tighten a screw, but the second pressman’s attention remained locked on the giant rolling mechanism, his attention unwavering as he turned a handle.
“Fergus and Crenshaw,” Mr. Black said.
Caroline nodded.
Mr. Black slid his hand down her back and he steered her past the compositor’s stands. She couldn’t help but be impressed watching their hands fly from the frame to the various drawers, using metal grabbers to place letters and characters at a pace she never would have expected.
No wonder there were so many errors.
A quick perusal of the room confirmed she was the only woman.
Her employer led her past the typesetters to a long table. She recognized Mr. Wallace and Mr. Jones, both of whom were reading through what she presumed was tomorrow’s edition.
Two other men, neither of whom she’d been introduced to, exchanged smirks from where they sat at the far table.
“That’s Michaels and Pip.” Mr. Black shuffled his feet. “Everyone who can, proofs the galley. The more eyes, the better,” he explained, and Caroline nodded. He had told her the first thing he’d done as publisher was to bring in the new printing press. It was the same time the errors began showing up.
She shivered and Mr. Black sent her a curious look.
But she couldn’t help herself.
Because both she and Mr. Black had concluded the mistakes couldn’t be caused by mechanical malfunction, which meant any of the workers present could potentially be the Gazette’s saboteur.
A much younger-looking fellow chose that moment to slide a large page onto the table. “Here’s your copy, Mr. Black.”
“Excellent.” He glanced down and then tipped his head in Caroline’s direction. “Miss Smith, this is Link, our press boy. Link, say hello to Miss Smith.”
“Hello, Miss Smith.”
“Hello, Link.” Caroline made a little wave.
“Bring Miss Smith a fresh galley, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Black said, and then drew her right along to where the two reporters were working. “Michaels, Pip, this is Miss Smith, the society writer I told you about. She’s going to be helping proof the galleys.”
“Pleasure to meet you both.” Caroline stretched out a hand, and she got the feeling neither would have shaken it if the boss hadn’t been standing over them.
Less certain of herself, she laughed. Both looked to be nearing their fifties, with dark hair and ruddy skin. Whereas Michaels was almost as tall as their boss, Pip’s height was closer to Caroline’s.
And before she could stop herself, she addressed him, laughing. “We have a border collie called Pip.”
“How serendipitous.” His tone came out flat, proving she’d made a mistake to compare him to her brother’s dog.
Meanwhile, Mr. Black was acting like one of her mother’s footmen, pulling a chair out from the table, either unaware of the other employees watching him, or simply not caring. “You can work here,” he told her.
Why would he bother calling her by a different name if he was going to treat her like a lady anyway?
Mr. Black gestured toward the chair a second time, but with the others all watching, Caroline ignored it and pulled one out for herself.
Caroline was going to have to have a talk with her boss because she’d never be accepted by the staff if she got preferential treatment.
