She moaned. “They belonged to Melanie. Mine are blue, but I tore one while I was getting dressed.” Why on earth was she discussing something so intensely personal with him?
“Ah…” he grinned. “Blue is my favorite color.”
A flash of… something… shot through her, and she cautiously met his gaze, which had darkened and seemed to stare into her very soul.
The air in the room turned heavy. And she could hear her own heart beating.
Good lord! She was discussing her undergarments with her employer! She needed to change the subject—desperately.
“But, to answer your question, no, I did not land on the queen. If you bothered attending more events yourself, you’d know that the queen wasn’t present. Of course. Why would the queen come to my come-out? I mean, I’m barely even a lady and never would have been if not for…” She cut herself off, not wanting to discuss her brother with the man who’d printed a story that very day that could lead to further trouble for Reed.
Mr. Black shrugged. “But you are a lady now, and it’s important you remember that pertinent piece of information when you enter the Chaswick ballroom tonight. Hold your head high. God knows you’re more intelligent than those empty-headed socialites who’ve given you the cut.”
The cut. A gesture as painful as any physical sort of assault. She smiled weakly at his attempt to be encouraging. She was his society writer, after all.
Caroline cleared her throat. “I’ll be fine.”
Maxwell Black, an esteemed London gentleman, but also the Earl of Helton, couldn’t possibly comprehend what it felt like to be an outcast.
And this evening, while she clumsily skirted the edges of Lady Chaswick’s ballroom, he’d be across town, energized, working in the unpretentious atmosphere of his very own newspaper offices.
While she hid behind a ficus, he’d be overseeing the process of producing something nearly all of England eventually read, proofing galleys, getting ink on his hands, and making editorial decisions.
Doing something meaningful.
Furthermore, he’d have the opportunity to act as a detective, possibly identifying which of his employees was betraying him—without her.
But she, too, had a job to do. She’d tune her ears in to the gossip, see which stories she could confirm, and find the best content of any society section in town. Once she had her stories, she’d tell her mother she needed to go home and write.
She could always claim the onset of a megrim.
If she could make an early exit, however, she would ask her mother’s coachman to deliver her to the Gazette’s offices. And Mr. Black would be happy to have her watching over those printing frames—perhaps catch the person changing out type.
“I’ll expect you to help tomorrow night.” His voice, deep and soothing, cut through her scheming.
She nodded. She’d go to the ball, wait until the first set was over, and then make her excuses.
“I’ll wager your dance card fills before the first waltz.” A frown flashed across his face but disappeared so quickly, it made her wonder if she’d imagined it.
“Don’t bet money you aren’t prepared to pay,” she said.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed the door through which her mother had exited had not been closed all the way. Her mother would, no doubt, be outside listening. And Caroline understood. Without her father to watch over them, they would have to watch over each other in his stead. Reed, Mother, Caroline, Melanie, and even Josephine—and Goldie now, as well.
Mr. Black’s gaze shifted toward the door knowingly, and the two of them simultaneously rose to stand.
“I’ll see you out, then.” She spoke formally. She needed to research the stories she and Goldie had decided on, write them up, and then deliver them to Mr. Wallace.
Mr. Black’s eyes caught and held hers and then, taking her hand, he bowed. “Good day, my lady.”
A chill ran down her spine and she dipped her chin. “Good day, my lord.”
His eyes narrowed. “Mr. Black. Maxwell, even, if we’re not at the office.”
Caroline rolled her lips together and nodded. “In that case, good day.” But she couldn’t help herself and added, “Max.”
MAX
“Good day,” she’d said. “Max.”
