Caroline winced. “She’s determined to marry me off and I’m afraid that by coming here this morning, you’ve earned the top spot on her potential husband list. If not for me, then for my younger sister, Melanie.”
Maxwell stared at the young woman who had wedged her way into the running of his newspaper, not to mention his thoughts, and came to a surprising conclusion.
The gentlemen of the ton were a bunch of dolts. Apparently, they were partial to muddle-headed girls who, although pretty, made breathy little sighs instead of conversation and stared at the world with vapid eyes.
Otherwise, they’d be fighting one another to fill Caroline’s dance card.
Caroline, who, although half a foot shorter than Maxwell, stood taller than most Mayfair debutantes. The cut of her dress, made up of baby blue muslin, was cinched tight with a white ribbon that emphasized her trim waist and an occasional flash of enticing ankles.
“If your mother is concerned about your prospects, she has no cause to worry.”
“I beg to differ.” Caroline flashed him a smile, her eyes sparkling with intelligence. "Melanie is much prettier. And Josephine, even at the age of six and ten, already outshines the two of us.”
Maxwell allowed his gaze to roam over her perfect figure, wondering how long her hair was, and what those chestnut locks would look like draped down her back. He then found himself studying her full lips, curved up just enough to make him wonder what she was thinking.
“I refuse to believe it,” he said.
Was he flirting? That wasn’t why he’d come, damn his deprived libido. Lapse in judgement, that was all.
But if that was the case, why did he move closer? And why did the subtle fragrance of her scent shoot straight to his groin?
TRUST
Mr. Black’s praise sent heat creeping up Caroline’s neck and into her cheeks. She had no misconceptions regarding her appearance, and false compliments made her uncomfortable.
And yet, this man sounded rather genuine, really, and the warmth in his eyes belied his tough exterior.
He was a good man—a kind man.
But he most definitely wasn’t courting her. He barely tolerated her.
Caroline rolled her lips together. Why was he here?
The offending issue of today’s newspaper caught her eye—riddled with errors. The paragraphs she’d painstakingly written were out of order, missing entire words, and rife with misspellings so flagrant no one could possibly comprehend what she’d meant. The only consolation was the reading public had no way of knowing who’d authored it.
At the same time she dropped back onto the settee, the realization struck her. He’d come to terminate her employment. That would explain the compliments—not to mention his conviction that she could land a husband.
The blood in her veins turned cold and beads of sweat materialized on the back of her neck.
“Please don’t sack me!” She would talk him out of it—bribe him—blackmail him if necessary.
Because she needed… a place to be each morning. She needed to make a difference!
She needed this.
For Reed! Of course.
Mr. Black, who’d claimed the spot beside her, blinked. “Why would I do that?”
“Because… you said…” Caroline gulped. “I’m employed on approval and this…” Her gaze dropped to the jumble of words that were meant to have been a society section and she stopped herself before providing him with half a dozen reasons to let her go.
“But then why have you come?”
His forearms rested on his knees, and he stared down at his hands, which were loosely clasped.
“I’m not sure.”
Staring at his profile, his neck, and the dejected slump of his wide shoulders, a crack splintered the area around her heart. She kept her mouth shut and waited for him to work his reasoning out for himself.
