“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Caroline said. And then she glanced around. “Has everyone else left?”
“Mostly. Except the boss and the pressmen, of course. A few of the compositors will wait to clean the letters after the run. But otherwise… There’s no reason for everyone else to stay.” His eyes shifted to the frame again and then back to her suspiciously.
Caroline straightened up and then backed toward the door. Did the man think she’d been moving letters? She wouldn’t, even if she knew how. “I promised Mr. Black I’d check with him before leaving…Goodnight, Mr. Jones!”
“Goodnight, Miss Smith.”
With most of the building in dark shadows, Caroline moved around the tables quickly and was relieved to find Max sitting inside his office—alone, but with the door open.
She paused in the threshold, because he wasn’t just her employer, he was the man who’d kissed her the night before. And then twice today.
“Max?” He peered over his spectacles at the sound of his name. Seeing her, he lowered whatever he was reading and gave her his full attention.
She held his gaze as long as she dared, but when she was certain he could hear her breathing, she shifted her eyes to the window and then back.
He lifted his brows. “Are you ready to leave? I suppose I should send for a carriage.”
“No!” She scrambled inside and took the seat she’d used earlier. “We need to make another galley.”
“But we’ve proofed it twice already.” He frowned. “What is it? Did you notice errors in the frame?”
She was shaking her head. “I need a mirror to do that. Which ought to be the final proof and needs doing right before the pressmen set them for the night’s run.”
Max nodded. “What made you think of this?”
Caroline explained about the gentlemen taking a break outside, and how the frame had been left unattended. “But we need to check the pages again before the pressmen load them up.”
Max was on his feet before she finished, rushing to the door, not stopping but glancing over his shoulder to ask, “So, no one is with the frames now?”
“Mr. Jones was on his way out. He said everyone else is gone… so no.” Caroline practically ran to keep up with him and they arrived in the print room together just as Crenshaw and Fergus were locking one of the forms into place.
“Wait!” Max called out. The two burly men paused. Seeing Caroline behind their boss, they shot wary stares in her direction. “We need to make one more galley!” Max added.
And five minutes later, between Max, Caroline, and the two compositors, they discovered no less than twelve significant errors.
None of which had been there half an hour before.
The corrections required the remaining employees to work later, delaying the final run. But by the very early hours of dawn—Caroline had lost track of time by then—batches and batches of finished papers awaited delivery to the mail offices, paperboys, and various regions of London.
And for the first time in almost an entire year, the London Gazette was, quite literally, perfect.
A WALTZ
Tired but happy and perhaps more satisfied than she had been in a very, very long time, Caroline stuffed her notebook and pencils into her bag. Maxwell, who was checking the gas lanterns and extinguishing any forgotten candles, said he’d wait for her in his office. But then he shot her a warning look, sending a thrill coursing through her.
Because, of course, he’d forbidden her from leaving on her own.
An order Caroline was happy to follow.
“I’m almost afraid to check the papers. It’s been so long since we’ve made it this late without finding new mistakes.”
He hadn’t waited for her in his office but stood in the doorway to the stairwell holding a single flint, his spectacles slightly crooked on his face, hair springing out from having run his fingers through it so many times.
He looked pleased—more than pleased. An inner sort of spark lit his green eyes, and he did nothing to hide his huge grin.
Caroline couldn’t stop smiling either. Much more of this and her mouth would hurt in the morning. “I feel like we ought to celebrate.”
“You aren’t tired?” Max narrowed his eyes, but in a curious way, not angry-like.
