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“Mr. Lowery,” she cried out, rushing after him. Ignoring the triumphant smile worn by Fairpoint, Verity gripped her employer by the arm. She ignored the outraged glint in his eyes as he took in her bold fingers. Panic lapped at the corner of her senses. “Please.” There were many too proud to beg. Verity, however, did not do this for herself alone but rather another, and it was that which made her able to swallow her pride and plead for her future. “Ineedthis post.”

Shrugging off her touch, he proceeded over to his cloak and shrugged into it. “And I needed this story.” Mr. Lowery gathered several files and stuffed them inside a leather bag. And with that, he disappeared through the door.

Yes, a struggling paper needed every advantage, and Lowery had pinned the hopes for his paper’s rise to its former greatness upon that story.

Verity sprinted after him, and again inserted herself into his path. “Another week,” she appealed, all but shouting through the din of the room.

He wound his way around her, making for the entrance. “And what do you think a week will do, given that it’s been months?”

Hope. It was what had fueled her and enabled her to survive the whole of her existence.

Mr. Lowery opened the door, and a sharp blast of wind whipped through.

“We’re done, Miss Lovelace,” he said, drawing his gloves on.

Verity followed him outside. The previously bustling streets were now eerily quiet because of the impending storm reflected in the thick black clouds rolling overhead. That symbol of darkness and gloom... It is an omen ...She thrust aside the tingling of unease working along her spine. “I’ve made progress,” she called after him.Lies.

And as he seemingly knew it, he continued on to the waiting carriage.

Verity bit the inside of her cheek, and then called, “I’ve determined his whereabouts.” Another blast of wind carried those words, stretching their echo.

That managed the otherwise impossible until now: Mr. Lowery stopped, one foot poised inside the carriage.

For one agonizing moment, she believed he’d climb inside that black barouche, ride off, and leave her hopeless once more.

Mr. Lowery stepped down and faced her. “You have three minutes, Miss Lovelace.”

Gathering up her skirts, Verity sprinted down the handful of steps and joined him.

“I’ve uncovered some of the details you’ve sought.”

“You?”

She nodded.

“You know where he lives?” And by the suspicion coating that inquiry, he was rich in doubt.

She’d not a damned clue. Alas, the lies came easily when one was desperate enough. “I do.”

Rubbing his gloved palms together, Mr. Lowery contemplated her.

All the while, she made herself remain still through that scrutiny.

Suddenly, her employer stopped. “Where is he?”

Verity lifted her chin in mutinous defiance. “Why would I freely give you that?” she scoffed. “My last story was already stolen from me. You’ve been wanting to sack me since you took over the operations ofThe Londoner. As such, if I give you that information, you’ll hand it to one of the men in your employ and allow him to complete the story.”

For a long moment, she believed he would call her lie out for the falsehood it clearly was.

But then, desperation made a person do funny things, like trust where one oughtn’t. Verity herself was proof of that. “You have until the end of the week, madam. I want that story not only researched but also written and on my desk by Friday’s time.”

Elation, swift and palpable, surged through her. “Yes, sir,” she said on a rush, her relief real even if her assurances for Lowery were not.

Mr. Lowery pulled himself inside the carriage. A moment later, his driver closed the door behind him, and the conveyance leapt forward.

Verity stood there, her face carved into an expressionless mask, her frame immobile, as the carriage pulled away. Fearing the owner ofThe Londonerwould have his eyes on her even now, searching for the truth of her deception.

When it disappeared over the horizon of the eerily empty London streets, she let her shoulders sag. “Oh, bloody hell,” she whispered. Giddy with relief, she set her shaking palms atop her knees and leaned over them.