Texas Tiger TH3 (6 page)

Startled, he shouted and leapt to his feet, scrubbing at his hair, staring at her as if she were crazed. Georgina merely grabbed her skirts and stalked off, leaving him to think what he would.

She wanted to scream at him, "What makes you think men are so much better? Don't women have families, too? Shouldn't they be paid for the work they do?" But it was worse than useless, she knew. She couldn't change the opinion of half the populace by screaming at Peter.

But a newspaper could.

As Georgina marched out of Peter's reach, a whole new horizon spread out before her. Her dream of love and romance fell by the wayside as she imagined the frontpage story she could write. At last, she had a real goal to work toward. She could change the world some day, with the right help. And she knew just where to find that.

Blucher didn't object when Georgina ordered him to take her downtown the next day. He did look slightly puzzled at the street she requested, but no one had given him orders to keep her out of photography studios. And when she sent him home with the news that she would be returning later with Peter, he obediently left her to her own devices.

Several hours later, Georgina was regretting her deviousness in dismissing Blucher, but she'd had to do it. There wasn't any way in the world she could hide the heavy satchels of photography paraphernalia, and she wasn't prepared to answer her family's questions about it. But the damned stuff weighed at least a ton.

Women stared at her with curiosity as she trudged down the street in the direction of Hanover Industries. A strange man offered to help her carry the load, but his eyes were everywhere except on the equipment, and Georgina used her tripod to trip him. People stared more as the man fell on his face, but she marched on without any indication that she noticed. One of the advantages of this street was that it was almost in the respectable area of town, but close enough to the industrial side that she could walk there—providing her arms didn't fall off first.

Sweat poured in rivulets through the dust on Georgina's face by the time she reached the factory. She kept well out of sight of her father's windows, watching carefully for the name of the building listed on Mr. Martin's business card. She knew her hair was coming unpinned and was straggling down the back of her neck, and her arms were nearly numb from the weight of the cumbersome equipment, but she wouldn't turn back now. She knew precisely what she wanted to do.

The faded paint on the wooden sign over the door was barely legible, but the building was made of substantial brick and only the bottom windows were boarded. Surely that was a promising sign. Georgina hefted one satchel to a more comfortable position and opened the door.

It squeaked. She gave it a doubtful look and glanced hesitantly into the darkened hallway. No lights flickered behind the boarded windows. She pushed the door open farther so that sunlight poured into the hall. In the center of the cavernous first floor she found a stairway, and the dull roar of machinery filtered down from the upper floors. The building wasn't entirely empty, then.

Squaring her shoulders, Georgina marched in. Her steps sounded ominously loud in the empty hall, but if there was anyone there, they didn't respond to her presence. She would have to climb the stairs and take her chances.

Groaning at the thought of carrying her equipment up no telling how many flights of stairs, she gripped her satchels a little tighter and set out. She wasn't about to appear in front of Mr. Martin dirty and bedraggled and without her equipment. She would show him that she was more than just a social butterfly. She was going to be a working woman, too.

Georgina didn't know why it was important that he know that, and she didn't spend any time worrying about it. She meant to take pictures to go with the stories he was writing, show the unfairness of this male-dominated world that allowed women to work long hours for less than a man and no doubt any number of other subjects of injustice when they occurred to her. She would have a purpose in life.

She didn't waste time wondering what Peter would think of that, either. If he thought anything at all, he could just take his engagement ring and find some simpering ninny to put it on. She meant to make the whole world see once and for all that she had a mind and intended to use it for something besides planning seating arrangements.

The noise from the printing press grew louder as she ascended to the second story. Her heels clattering against the wooden floor couldn't be heard above the racket. She followed the sound down still another hallway, this one much lighter and more cheerful from the light of the huge windows on either end. The heat, however, was stifling.

Finding an open door, Georgina allowed herself the luxury of dropping her satchels for just a minute, just so she could push her hair back and wipe her face off a little.

The printing press came to a crashing silence at the same time as her satchels hit the floor. The sound echoed through the nearly empty building.

Mr. Martin appeared instantly, his spectacles sliding down his sweat-coated nose, his hands rubbing a rag to remove the black ink. At the sight of Georgina, his arched eyebrows rose a fraction. At the sight of her equipment, he gaped openly, his gaze swinging back and forth between the hideously expensive camera and paraphernalia and back to her. And then he grinned and stashed his spectacles in his shirt pocket.

"A fellow journalist is always welcome, Miss Hanover. Please come in."

Chapter 5

Heaven help him, but she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen in his life. Light from the vaulted hall windows glinted off hair that was almost white-gold in its beauty. Beneath the streaks of dirt her face blossomed into a beatific smile at his words, and Daniel felt ten miles tall. He wanted to take her round little curves into his arms and squeeze them with sheer happiness. That was when he knew he was in big trouble.

She was engaged to his brother.

That knowledge wedged like a dry bread crust in his throat, and Daniel had difficulty speaking. Instead of the words of delight he wished to offer, he said, "You shouldn't be here, Miss Hanover."

The light immediately fled her eyes. "I didn't spend the morning dragging this equipment over here only to be sent away, Mr. Martin."

He didn't know why she had spent the morning dragging that equipment over here, but his gaze rested longingly on the expensive camera. He was trying to keep to a budget, and a camera wasn't in it. A newssheet like his had no earthly use for photographs. For that, he needed a downtown office and a publishing company. The idea had appeal, but not on his budget.

"You're looking to get me shot, aren't you?" Daniel kept his voice neutral as he picked up the heaviest satchel and carried it in, making room for her to step inside.

She did so without hesitation, and Daniel was suddenly aware of the shabbiness of his surroundings next to her exquisite loveliness. Her blue silk shimmered in the motes of sunlight. The yards of ruching sweeping down her boned bodice and long skirt must have cost the moon and stars. The perky hat perched atop her bedraggled coiffure had a feather that swept the air as she glanced around. He was aware that all she could see was a splintering wooden floor, soiled walls, and a mattress thrown up against a floorboard. He hadn't seen the necessity of finding an apartment as long as he had rented the entire floor. It wasn't as if he needed an office or a newsroom or any other of the accouterments that went with a professional newspaper. Not yet, anyway.

"Very nice." Her tone was too melodic for her sarcasm to have effect. She swung around and faced him. "Were you the journalist Peter threw out of Mulloney's the other day?"

Daniel ran his hand through his hair, realizing it was in dire need of a trimming as he met her gaze. "And if I am?"

"Then I've come to help you. Peter fired that poor woman you were interviewing. He said no one would listen to a woman. Did she have a family? Children?"

Daniel was extremely wary of gods bearing gifts. He knew his mythology quite well. And what applied to gods applied to goddesses, too. Perhaps she wasn't quite a goddess. She was dirty and bedraggled, and her tone was a little too imperious at the moment. She really wasn't even pretty, not in the same way that Evie was. Of course, Evie was beautiful. Georgina was just... interesting. That was the word for it. Interesting. Her lively eyes kept him captivated until he nearly forgot her question.

Her tapping toe reminded Daniel that he was expected to answer. He finished wiping his hands on the rag. "As far as I know, she was just an aging spinster with an axe to grind, but I'm sorry to hear she lost her job. That was uncalled for."

That took the wind out of her flag fast enough. She had come marching out to war for next to nothing. Daniel waited for the next installment of this emotional drama.

Georgina grimaced, but forged ahead. "If you are looking for a story on how women are mistreated by management, then you have only to look to my father's factory. I can help you with that."

That hadn't been what Daniel was looking for at all. He had merely been trying to find out more about his family and their operations, but he wasn't about to admit that to Miss Georgina Hanover. He dusted off the window seat and gallantly offered her a place to sit. He could smell the light fragrance of her soap as she swept by him to accept it. Lilies of the valley. Lord, but it smelled good.

"I was more interested in Mulloney's," he answered imperturbably.

"Then you ought to be interested in Hanover Industries. They produce most of the clothing that Mulloney's sells under their own label."

He really didn't care. The world was rife with injustice. Daniel knew that from firsthand experience. What he really wanted to know about was the callous wealthy family that had thrown him away, but this woman standing in front of him was engaged to the heir apparent. He detected a slight conflict of interest here.

"Mulloney's is a big name in this town. A story about them will generate sales. Everybody shops at Mulloney's. Why would they bother reading a story about Hanover Industries?"

"Because those women work terrible hours under horrible conditions and make barely enough to stay alive. Isn't that story enough?"

"That's your father's factory you're talking about, Miss Hanover. The money he makes from his employees keeps you in those expensive gowns and paid for that equipment." Daniel nodded at the satchels on the floor. As much as he wanted access to that camera, he had a bad feeling in his gut about any partnership with Georgina Hanover. They had no ground in common whatsoever.

She really hadn't thought this through at all, he could tell. She sighed, wiped her face with a handkerchief, and looked miserable. Daniel suspected that what had started out as an act of defiance to make her father or Peter take notice was now snowballing into something quite different. But she didn't look as if she meant to give up.

Putting away her handkerchief, Georgina stiffened her shoulders. "All right, have it your way. It's your paper. But I suspect there is some connection with the factory and the store, and that's the reason my father's workers are so overworked. My father is a nice man; Mr. Mulloney isn't."

Daniel didn't intend to dive after that one. He would see for himself what kind of man Mulloney was, not dwell on gossip. "And what do you think photographs will accomplish on this little crusade of yours, Miss Hanover?" He jerked the topic back to more pertinent arguments.

She looked surprised. "Why, they'll show the horrible conditions people work under. Photographs are all the rage, you know. People react to pictures much better than words."

Daniel patiently let her toward the obvious. "News photos must be displayed in windows where they'll be seen, Miss Hanover. Where will you display yours? On my boarded-up windows? I think the people in this area already know the conditions they work under."

Georgina bit her lip and glanced around as if just discovering where she was. "It's not exactly like the news offices in London, is it?"

"Not exactly," Daniel agreed. Then taking pity on her, he asked, "Do you know how to use that thing?"

She brightened. "I spent all morning learning, and they said I could come back any time with questions."

"I suppose they showed you the wet process?" Daniel asked with a touch of gloom.

Georgina shook her head. "They have dry plates. They said it would be much easier if I wasn't going to use a studio. So I didn't buy a tent. Do you have a room I could use for developing?"