Page 12 of In Bed with the Earl

Drawing the door closed behind her, Verity scanned the room, searching the neat rows of desks. With all the men at work and Miss Wright, the only other woman on staff, filling the inkwells, it may as well have been any other day. Only it wasn’t.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Miss Wright murmured, hurrying in front of Verity to reach her next inkwell athisdesk.

Rage narrowed Verity’s gaze into thin slits.

Pen poised over his page, Mitchell Fairpoint glanced up from his papers. His midnight hair slicked back, his nose faintly too sharp, and his eyes too cunning, he’d the look of the Devil to him.

“You bastard,” she hissed, flying across the room.

That managed to penetrate the activity around the room. Shouts went up in echo to her cursing.

Ignoring the pathetically offended sensibilities, she reserved all her fury and channeled it onto one person. Verity slammed her bag down hard on Fairpoint’s desk. “You stole from me.”

His thin lips drew into a tight line as he smoothed his palms along his jacket. “How dare you!”

It didn’t escape her notice that he remained seated, deliberately insolent, mocking. Her rage skyrocketed as she rested her hands on his immaculate desk and leaned forward. “I dare because it’s true,” she sneered. “You stole from me.”

“I won’t have my honor impugned by one of your ilk, Miss Lovelace.”

She wavered. For a moment, she thought he might be referring to her birthright. Which was impossible. Only Mr. Lowery Sr. knew. And he’d pledged that secret to her father.

Fairpoint cried out, “Have a care!” Yanking a kerchief from his pocket, he wiped at the smattering of ink Miss Wright had spilled upon his fingers.

“My apologies, sir,” the young woman murmured. Turning, she held Verity’s gaze for a moment. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval, then rushed off to see to the supplies of another desk.

“Now, if you would go, Miss Lovelace. I don’t have the time for this.” He gave a flick of his fingers, like one brushing off a bothersome child. “I’ve my next story to see to.”

My next story.

His.

As though the Lost Earl hadeverbeen his.

From across the desk Miss Wright gave Verity another look; that taciturn show of support bolstered her. For this injustice, Verity’s fight for respect and a place in this office, was about even more than just her and her security. It was also about the other woman who’d been working here for five years now and who also was denied a meaningful role. And though she’d never appreciated it before now, as long as she held her post here, Verity served as a reminder that women could do and be more in these professions men were so very determined to keep them out of.

Rage darkened her vision, and, snarling, she swept his papers from his desk. “Bastard.”

Cries went up, the indignant shouts muffled by the whir of blood rushing in her ears.

“Miss Lovelace, that isenough.”

That voice managed to penetrate her rage, and all at once, Verity became aware of several things: the pall of silence amongst the all-male staff now staring on in horror. And the annoyed figure standing in the middle of the offices. A figure who rarely visited. A man who left the daily affairs to his staff and swept in to grace them with his presence only when he wished to play at being the proprietor.

And this would be the day he’d be here.

Her stomach turned over. “Mr. Lowery,” she said in belated greeting, her voice hoarse.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the smug stamp of Fairpoint’s features and curled her fingers into balls at her sides to stop from scraping her nails down the bastard’s face.

“I’d speak with you in my office.” Not bothering to see if she followed, he started across the rooms.

Verity scooped up her copy ofThe Londonerand her bag. She stomped around the desk and leaned close to Fairpoint. “We are not done here,” she whispered.

“No,” he agreed with a snide grin. “I’d venture only one of us is.”

Verity flared her eyes and made to lunge at the thief of her words and future.

“Miss Lovelace,” Lowery snapped, his voice carrying from his offices, “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

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