Love Between the Lines (20 page)

Rupert
gave in to her cajoling at last. “Yes, well. Let me see. The orders from on high are that you’re to be afforded the respect one would treat the queen or a maiden aunt.”

“
Hands off?” she guessed. “No salacious comments?”

He nodded.

“Anything else? To do with my work, I mean.” She longed to know if there were whispers about her relationship with Sir Gideon but didn’t want to start Mr. Rupert down that trail if he hadn’t been there already.

He drew in a deep breath.
“He wants final say on which assignments I give to you.”

“
Go on.”

“
I did know your work before. I had read and liked several of your stories.”

He paused expectantly. She murmured a thank
-you, and he went on. “I found a story idea that fits your strengths. There are some child arsonists operating in the east end of the city. I’m aware that you don’t know them or the city but if you went with another reporter who could help, you might work with him. You’d do what you seem best at—gain their trust, find the human side of the story, and perhaps even discover if someone is paying them. When I mentioned handing it to you, he said it would fit Buckley better.”

“
But why?” A stupid question. She was a woman, that was why.

He confirmed the answer.
“I believe he worries about your safety.”

“
You suspect he’s protecting me?”

He nodded.
“Precisely.”

“
I shall have to think about this.”

Mr.
Rupert must have thought she was about to leave. He gave a distracted, “Yes, good,” and returned to reading the foolscap in his hand. She remained in her chair and planned. At last she said, “Here’s what I’ll do.”

He
looked up, a wary expression on his bony face.

“
I’m going to finish this society piece today. I’ll take it to Mr. Brewer. He’s the editor at
Milady’s Parlour,
right?”

He nodded.

“And then I’ll come straight to you and tell you what I’m going to write next. I promise it will fit the
Clarion
—or if you dislike my idea, I’ll find another. That way you don’t have to go against Sir Gideon’s orders, you know, because you won’t have assigned the story.”

“
He won’t like that.”

“
He’ll have to fire me, then.”

Mr.
Rupert laughed and winked. “Oh, I very much doubt he will.” And that confirmed the other piece of gossip.

With a small
tsk
, she raised her eyebrows—as haughty as the queen or a maiden aunt. She might as well use the tools she’d been granted by her annoying employer.

He stopped laughing. She considered adding a speech about how she was
a journalist and not a mere stunt, but at the moment, she wasn’t sure of that herself. She only bid him good-bye and went back to her desk to work up the notes of the ball. She’d cast herself as a dazzled observer taking notes of her first glorious ball. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to remember the waltz with Sir Gideon.

She began to write
, and her description might have come from the pen of a breathlessly excited, ignorant debutante. There. It fit nicely with the work she’d done half-drunk the night before. If the pap she produced wasn’t enough to convince him to assign the job to someone else, nothing would.

Obviously, Sir Gideon had lured her here with no real plan to use her skills. She told herself she shouldn’t be discouraged, because even if he refused to publish her stories, she’d be well paid and practicing her craft in a new and interesting environment. She’d write good, competent pieces for him. And maybe one really excellent one for Rupert. Golly, she wished she could track down those young arsonists, but Buckley was the one with the assignment.

She wondered why she felt so bereft and then remembered the words he
’d said in New York about her writing talent. All deception. What kind of investigator was she if she couldn’t figure out why he’d bothered with the expense and nuisance of hiring her?

She might uncover his secrets and write
an amusing short piece. “Wealthy Publisher Apparently Loses Common Sense After Hiring Female Writer.”

She suspected it all had to do with t
he kiss in his office. She wished he hadn’t done that, even while she wished he’d do it again, now. Immediately. She longed to have him appear in front of her desk and take her in his strong arms. God, her thoughts were as tripe-filled as the article she’d written.

A walk would provide distraction. She gazed around for
Oyster, but no doubt he’d wandered off to the vast basement to talk to a printer he’d met. They’d speak in signs, likely, because the printer was deaf, like many in his trade.

She bent her head and kept writing. She
’d finished a first draft when someone interrupted.

“
Miss Tildon.” Sir Gideon stood in front of her desk, glowering. No sign that he would sweep her into his arms. More likely he’d strike her dead with his eyes.

O
nly one other reporter was in the room. Buckley gazed at Sir Gideon with rapt interest.

She rose to her feet.
“Yes, sir?”

“
I require a word with you. Come to my office.”

“
Why didn’t you send a boy with a message?”

“
I was walking this way. Five minutes. Upstairs.” He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Buckley
gave a low whistle. “It’s on the carpet with you,” he said affably.

“
I expect so,” she agreed.

“
He’s got it bad for you,” the reporter said.

“
Nonsense.”

“
Everyone says so.”

“
He’s engaged.” She gathered up her papers and tried to put them in some sort of order.

“
Yes?”

“
She’s very beautiful. And charming.”

“
Yes?”

“
Would you kindly tell everyone that the rumor is utterly false?”

He just snorted.
“I shan’t lie for you, Tildon.”

She sat back down.
“You all are no better than the idiots back home. I had thought that you British reporters would be discreet and businesslike,” she said mournfully. “Gentlemen of the press.”

“
Why the devil would you think that?”

“
I have no idea.” She reflected that at least she was dealing with a known quantity—and because she knew all about bored reporters, she said, “All right, Buckley. You tell me what bet is on the books and the odds. I’ll give you any inside tips.”

He
grinned. “That’s a plan. Only one I know of is he takes up with you by the end of the season, and it’s running two to one for. At least three reliable witnesses got to corroborate it.”

She groaned.
“Is there any mention of marriage?”

He looked surprised.
“He’s going to marry Her Ladyship, isn’t he?”

“
And the fact that I don’t dally with married men, or with any man, doesn’t enter into your stupid pool?”

He considered the question.
“No, I don’t think so.”

“
Why on earth not?”

“
Most of us have seen you looking at him, I expect.”

She uttered a curse that made him
whistle and raise his eyebrows with obvious respect.

Lizzy decided not to protest what the
utterly nosy people of Langham House had witnessed. “Desire is not action, Buckley. Unlike the males, we women have some ability to control ourselves. We are civilized.”

H
e only snorted again. “That’s your so-called inside tip? Fairly lousy, as you Yanks would say.” He twiddled the end of his mustache. “Only thing I hope is you two would be discreet enough so that fewer than three could call it openly involved.”

Three people? Ugh.
“Start another pool. He’s going to fire me. Or I’ll quit because I’ve had more than enough of this…this nonsense. I just want to work.”

He pursed his lips.
“Tell me what you really want from life, and I’ll start a pool that whatever it is, you’ll get it. I’m inclined to think you are used to success.”

She rose to her feet
, grabbed her article, and gave it a little shake. “Right now I want to be done with this idiotic piece and this idiot place. Done with whatever lecture he’s going to read me and done with foolishness.”

“
Naw, I think I’ll skip that wager after all. Good luck,” he called as she walked out the door.

She
climbed the stairs to the publisher’s office and gave Jenks a cool nod. She suspected he was the one to start the betting pool. He must have seen the befuddlement on her after the kiss. God forbid he’d actually seen the kiss. She managed to restrain her hand from reaching up and touching her lips. “He’s expecting me,” she said and walked in without knocking.

He was standing by the marble mantel and only crossed his arms over his chest as she pushed open the door.

“Sir?” She wanted to sound politely interested and not seething.

“
You were interviewing some madwoman, and I have word that you were sneaking about a house of ill repute.”

Was Oyster a snitch?

“You have an assignment to finish, and you’re gallivanting off to lunatic asylums.” His voice rose.

“You knew I was going to go there
—” she began.

He interrupted,
“Where, I am given to understand, the woman became dangerously violent at something you said and attacked you.”

“
Here.” If he was going to act foolish, she’d stop restraining her own rage. She thrust the article at him. “Here’s the assignment. I’ll have a fair copy done soon. As to the rest of what you said, I expect Mr. Brinker informed you of the visit. Whichever of your spies told you that she became violent was wrong.”

He seemed to want to speak
, but Lizzy ignored him. “The woman was agitated, but I was never in danger. And what is more, I think you have better things to do with your time than rebuke me for doing my job.”

“
Huh.” Without looking at her, he walked to his desk. He sat down heavily and began to read the article she’d handed him.

She trailed after him and stood on the other side
, watching him read. “Sir Gideon. I don’t know how a man with so many concerns can get anything done when he’s haring after a single reporter and putting his nose into her business. You are a publisher, sir, not a nursemaid or editor.”

He nodded
and looked up from the article. The horrible frown on his handsome face dissolved. Her own anger drained away. Those hazel eyes on hers seemed to caress her. She’d been wrong to want to look at him directly, because it started up the powerful ache of longing again.

“
You do not appear to trust me to do my job properly. Perhaps it would be best if I leave my position,” she said. Her voice croaked. “I would leave London rather than work for one of your competitors.”

“
Ridiculous. That is hardly the way to advance your career,” he began.

“
I have often heard that people in my trade would be well advised to work for a smaller paper, to get an understanding of a variety of stories. I should see life in a smaller town than London or New York. I’d like to stay in Britain for a little while before returning home.”

“
Nonsense.” He made an impatient sound and fell silent for a moment. His gaze met hers, and she saw so much heat, she had to look away. In a soft voice, he said, “Miss Drury. I can see I am at fault here. I must learn to. I shall have to…” His words petered out.

“
Keep your distance,” she finished for him.

Just to make certain he understood, she told him
what Buckley had said about the bet. She wished she could sound cool and unembarrassed but at least she didn’t blush. “You were right to keep your distance before literally as well as professionally. It is best for your reputation as well as mine,” she concluded.

“
God,” he moaned. “The men who work for me are insufferable asses.”

She nodded.
Neither of them bothered to address the truth of the attraction. That reassured her that they might still be able to function. Pretend it wasn’t true, and they might muddle through.

“
Word of the wager won’t get to Lady Edith,” she said. “The newspapermen and she hardly travel in the same circles.”

His shoulders slumped.
“Lizzy, Jesus, I am sorry. Obviously I can’t read the men the riot act or it’ll make matters worse. Are you all right?” he said, quiet and with a world of tenderness. And her heart hurt even while other parts of her seemed to swell at what she heard in his voice.