“Not a single word.” Yet another victory, but one that could only be attributed to luck. The question didn’t shake her, but the fact that she’d forgotten all about her mission did—even if only temporarily.
“Your mother will be pleased.” Her mother, who’d already lost so much, who’d sent food for the entire Gazette staff, and who was allowing Caroline to break dozens of rules so they could protect Reed.
But who would be very disappointed if she knew what Caroline had been up to.
She exhaled. Her mother need never know.
Because today, Mrs. Rutherford would be pleased. And Caroline’s mission would begin again in a few short hours—with another paper to put together, more articles to write, an annoying saboteur to capture… and pesky Scotland Yard articles to be killed.
The tasks circled endlessly, making knots and bows, tightening around her.
“You’re like to fall asleep sitting there.” Eloisa practically lifted Caroline off the vanity bench. “Let’s get you out of this chemise and into a proper night-rail.”
But it was too late. Caroline had already slid under the covers and was hugging her pillows, eyes closed, happy to invite dreams of her day—and the night.
Because both had been good. And she could hardly wait to see Maxwell again.
BROTHERLY CONCERN
The trouble with sleeping late was that one didn’t hear her brother pounding on the front door very early, or the conversations that took place in the morning room between the rest of her family.
Until, of course, said brother grew impatient and barged into Caroline’s chamber.
Sensing she wasn’t alone, Caroline’s eyes fluttered open to see her annoying but beloved brother standing over her, a paper in his hands. The fact that it was today’s edition of the London Gazette somehow fit the circumstances perfectly.
“Why?” he asked. His eyes, which were a lighter blue than her own, appeared more hurt than angry. “This is you, isn’t it. Why didn’t you come to me?”
Caroline blinked as her mind searched for the meaning behind his question. And then she saw which page the paper was open to.
The society article she’d written to warn other debutantes against agreeing to walk alone with gentlemen who appeared harmless.
She pushed herself onto her elbows, at a considerable disadvantage. “Can this not wait until I’ve had a cup of tea?”
“I shouldn’t have had to read it in the Gazette.” He twisted his mouth, his distaste obvious.
She knew she was going to have to fess up to what she was doing eventually, she just hadn’t foreseen these particular circumstances. But he’d found out—most likely from Goldie.
“It’s been taken care of.”
“By whom?” Reed’s eyes turned icy. “Not Black. Tell me it wasn’t that bastard Black.”
When Caroline didn’t answer right away, Reed dropped onto the edge of her bed. “We used to talk all the time. I don’t understand why you would go to him, of all people, to help you.”
Caroline tried sitting up all the way but couldn’t because she was trapped by her brother’s weight atop the counterpane. “Umph… Move so I can sit up, you baboon,” she grumbled, shoving until he shifted enough so she wasn’t trapped. “I assume you’re referring to my… encounter with Baron Dankworth.”
“Did you really write that? Why wouldn’t you come to me?” Caroline almost felt sorry for him.
“Don’t you have enough troubles of your own? Scotland Yard opened a new investigation into the fire. And yet, you haven’t told us anything about that. What are they saying? Is it really that serious?”
“A new witness came forward—says he personally saw me locking them inside.” Reed scrubbed a hand down his face. “He’s lying, of course. You know that as well as anyone.”
Caroline’s heart dropped. “I know that, and you know that, but unless you provide the truth, people will believe what they hear.”
“Or read.” He pinned an accusing stare. “And that, I suppose, is why you turned to Maxwell Black.” But then he shook the paper he was holding. “But this. This is different, Caroline. How could you go to him about something like this?”
She held his gaze steadily. “I didn’t go to him.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t go to him?”
