“Sleeping?” If anything, the earl sounded even more suspicious. “My sister is sleeping here? If you’ve so much as touched her…” Standish stopped short of finishing his sentence, suddenly aware that they weren’t alone.
Even if Max was well and truly backed into a corner.
Distribution activities were in full swing now. Doors slammed and men shouted from outside. And before Max could answer Standish’s question, a shadow passed outside one of the interior windows.
“Why is Mr. Pip here?” Lady Standish’s question pricked the tense silence.
Max, who’d hoped Winterhope and Beckworth might take their leave, was to be sorely disappointed.
“She is—” Max stopped. He frowned and then turned to the countess. “How do you know Mr. Pip?” Pip was a rough and tumble reporter. How did the daughter of a duke come to be acquainted with such a man?
A hint of light filtered through the windows, purples, lavender and orange, and the petite blonde woman turned wide open eyes toward him. “He works for my father.”
Five, then ten seconds of stunned silence followed her answer.
Lady Standish’s father was the Duke of Crossing—a man whose wealth had increased in a time where other titled men were struggling to maintain their estates.
A man known to have consorted with confirmed pirates and smugglers. A man who had vehemently defended England’s right to override the Chinese law that made opium illegal.
The puzzle pieces fell into place. “It’s him.”
At first he felt the anger of betrayal, but then his thoughts turned more rational. If the reporter had been sent by Crossing to put coded messages in the paper, and had then failed when his methods were discovered, he wouldn’t be hanging around the Gazette’s offices much longer.
He’d be frustrated. Perhaps vengeful.
The note.
And Caroline was asleep in the closet.
Max reached into another drawer, this time snatching his pistol, and then rushed through the door. The other men, Standish included, were right behind him.
“Stay here, Goldie,” Caroline’s brother’s words barely registered as Max sprinted back to the work room.
And then, seeing nothing out of order, skidded to a halt.
“You’re back early.” Max kept calm as he addressed the man who had begged for his job just over a year ago. A man Max had given the benefit of the doubt.
Pip’s dull grey eyes searched the room. For escape? He stood almost a foot shorter than Max and was scrawny for a grown man. Max wouldn’t feel threatened in the least if he’d taken Caroline home earlier.
Winterhope strolled into the room and leisurely blocked the north exit. Beckworth moved to the south side and Max felt Standish right behind him.
“Is something the matter, boss?” Pip feigned innocence.
“I think you know.” Max took a step forward, prepared to attack if necessary.
Pip’s expression was one that almost had Max feeling sorry for the man.
Almost.
Because the reporter had been figuratively and literally forced into a corner.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” Pip walked backward. “It was a prank. Nothing more.”
“Put your hands up.” Not many had the nerve to deny an order issued by Leopold Beckworth. Or the stupidity. Pip, unfortunately, had both.
In a flash, he waved a knife, his eyes wide. “Don’t make me use this. Let me walk away. Just leave it.”
“It’s too late for that.” Winterhope appeared unconcerned, elbow resting on a shelf behind him, his hand dangling, ankles crossed.
