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Knightly loved his mother. She had been the only family he had ever known, and she had made sure they lived. That they did not starve. And she had done it with her body. For him. Part of his hunger had always been for her. For him, but her for too. He did not often take people to met her, thought he did casually speak of her often. He knew however, that his mother would love her.

He also knew that his mother would help make sure she could return safely to her brother's home without a question raised. His mother was the reason his mind was so sharp. She would either devise a way to get the dress clean or find a way to hide it.

He could feel the air around them tense, and Knightly knew her enough to know that something was off. She quickly gave herself away when she began to try to prevent them from going to his mother's. There was something endearing in her attempts, and he found his arms tightening around her as if that would either make sure she keep her seated on the horse without attempts to get away; or help reassure her.

"Miss Camden, are perchance nervous about meeting my mother?" He asked, his tone teasing and serious all at once. It was rare for her to have such a tone with anyone. Yet something in this moment told him that she was unwilling to meet his mother and it had nothing to do with her state of dress? He knew it was a risk to take, as she could honestly not want to meet someone with her dress out of sorts. Though he wondered if it was because he and she had become . . . . friends? And she knew that it could be odd to meet his mother under such conditions.

Knightly looked at her surprised for a moment, though his face did not show it. She'd just laughed at him when he told her that he yelled at his workers. He knew that is wasn't something one would normally brag about, however he also knew that lieing about it only made him more of an ass. He did yell when they were off schedule and the schedule was what made everything work. Ink needed to be finished on time, papers pressed on time, letters put in the machine on time--because when one wheel in this unit broke the rest of the jobs were pointless! So yes, he yelled. This was his life, and he controlled it. Nothing would change that. AND she's just laughed at him.

She did have the grace to look a little taken back by her own action, and Knightly let it go. No use scaring her off. Had she been less talented, already employed, or a man he might not have. However as he wanted her talent in his paper, and was trying to get her to work for him and she was in fact (very much) a woman . . . there would be no yelling today.

It was then that she again surprised him. She wished to learn. Unlike the aforementioned surprise, this one was pleasant and encouraging. He hated writers who just turned int heir work and assumed he'd handle the nitty gritty details of it. Some had horrid spelling, or some had too many capitals everywhere in the writing. One even refused to use capitals. It was madding but talent was talent, and as long as he was not editing the work then he was find with editing the details. Which was why her question was a pleasant surprise.

"Most of the editing from the first letter was in removing the details that made it personal to the lady in which you wrote too--such as her name." Reaching for the amended article, he walked around the desk so he could lean on the edge while handing it to her. "A few other corrections are there as well." Though thankfully not as many as he did for his other writers. In truth, he had even assumed the minor ones were from the informalness of the letter rather then author's skill. That was had been evident in her writing.

"The only thing missing from that--" he pointed to the article that he had handed to her "--is your by line, and the title for the article. Some writers use pen names, however I rather you did not. We need them to feel as if they know you in order to write to you." He knew he had ignored her question about picking up the letters, but he would come back to that very shortly. Right now he wanted to focus on this article.

She kept walking toward him! Why? She kept talking about fetching him something and he almost said yes to get out to leave, so he could lock the door behind her--however as he was not a coward nor a man who gave others the upper hand often, he did not. He was going to stand his ground and--she was now closer!

Causally making sure the chair was between them so she could not try to lean down and check his his injury out again, Knightly decided it was time to take control of his situation before he lost all his control compleatly! "You said you brought in your article?" He asked, reaching for her arm and "helping her" take a seat. THAT might keep her from coming too close toward him over and over again.

Clearing his voice with a deep sound, he straightened his clothes as he walked behind his desk. Order restored--almost. He was talking about her dress. Which meant he needed to look at her. Stealing himself, he looked up at the dress. "It is very . . . modern in it's cut and fashion. I am sure you will turn more than just his head." Blood hell she had already turned his. He would be seeing her bent over before him all night. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he continued. "Might you give him a bit of warning before you dart up to him. Make sure he does no injure himself." He added with sarcasm, and reached for her article.

Not wanting to be an ass if she was really trying to see how men liked the dress, he felt the need to add on. After reading some of her past articles he often wondered if she tested them out of him, or perhaps others, before seeking out her love to do it. "You look very beautiful, Miss Camden. He will enjoy the sight very much." He told her, with a calmer tone. Then he looked at her article.

Knightly did not think much of her calling his name. He did not even think much of her quickly moving toward him. The reason for his not thinking much of these two actions was due to the third action from her, and that was to ALMOST kneel down at his feet and look up at him. Granted she was only bent over, but the was the most----"Fuck me," he muttered in exasperation of how unreal this moment hovered from his normal day, and moved to lean back on his desk in attempts to move away from her, because the side of her pretty face so near his cock was too much to process right now.

He knew in this moment he was going to get off schedule today. Damn her. Damn her and that dress and her need to put her face right there!! Thankfully she stood up before he brain begin working enough to snap at her and tell her to stand. He almost glared at her as she stood there looking all innocent and concerned.

Taking in a deep breath, he side stepped and walked around the desk so it was between them. The damn woman had just made him run away from her. "I am fine. I just need to walk it off." He explained, with a dark tone that was full of sarcasm. His breathing was still off, and he felt rather hot in that moment but was NOT going to take his jacket off just to prove a point. To himself. Since she had no idea of what was happening.

OR did she. "I assume the dress is your newest tactic for winning over your man?" He asked again in the same tone. When had she grown breast? Or more likely--where had she hid them for all this time??

Knightly took the steps two at a time, calling back orders about how many papers to be printed in the first back so they they could begin prepping the machines with the letters in the press and buy the ink. He hated to be behind schedule, and thankfully today wasn't one of them days. However if he had too many more unexpected interruptions than he knew he would find himself not getting in the payouts in time. He wanted them done today so that he could have the lettering done first thing in the morning.

Before he could do the layouts, he needed the articles. While they were due today, Knightly wanted them all yesterday. Always wanted them yesterday--even if they were early. Walking to the back of his office he was pulling out the wooden board that he used to pin the layouts too when he heard her enter.

Perfect! He could begin editing her paper now. She never needed a lot as her attention to detail was as meticulous as his own. Still, having her's in would free up his afternoon to edit the others. Turning toward his desk just as she began to lean over and layout her articles, he felt the board drop from his surprised hands; just as he stepped closer--which in turned caused it to jab into his leg (dangerously close to his manhood).

With a muffled cruse, he bent over and caught himself on the desk before growing very still. Taking in a slow deep breath he looked up at the very thing--person--WOMAN that had caused him to drop the board. "Miss Camden," he greeted in a tight tone with a slight painful groan before standing slowly up and looking at her. Or more directly--at her newly exposed skin. The very skin that had caught him by surprise upon seeing and caused him to drop the board. The very skin that had surprised him NOT because he had never seen a pair of breast but because he had never seen this much of HER breast. Of the perfectly pale and plumb skin that was now pushed up in display when before it had NOT!!

Had the board not just jabbed him in his middle, he knew he would have to stand behind his desk to make sure that nothing could be noticeable.

She asked him again not to tell her brother, and he sighed in a annoyed manner, but one that they both knew he was going to do it for her. He might not like it, but he would in deed not tell her brother. It was also not the first time he wondered about the mysterious man. About why she was so precarious about some things when it came to her older sibling. He had no reason to think ill of the man, but there was something off setting about a woman who did not trust her family to take care of such matters. Either her brother was elderly or weak and she feared for her brother; or there was something else.

Knightly was distracted by the thoughts of her saying she was not seeking Cooper for her love. The knowledge that she had only gone because she thought to enjoy the air or something, eased a tightness he had not known was in his gut and chest. It was in this moment that the begin to turn the horse just enough so they would enter the city a bit more south that he had planned. If she would not let him make sure her brother was there to care for her, he would do it. Or well, ask his mother to do it.

When her chin lifted and her face look up at him, Knightly straightened his spine so that he was no longer letting his face softly touch her hair and appeared normal. He glanced down at her, but her face was so close that he quickly looked back up. Bloody hell. Then she asked him if he had ever been jealous, and he looked back down at her face. Yes. Hes he could understand that emotion. Both from his childhood when he had been jealous that his father returned to his other family to dote on them, and now when she was seeking another. He had not even thought about what that meant.

It was too new. Too unprocessed to admitted too, even to himself. Looking back up and away from her face, away from the eyes and seemed to see into him, and spoke. Trying to remain toneless, but not coming out quite right. "I suppose I have felt it a few times." It was then he realized why she was asking. "Was that what you intended? To let this man you love see you with Copper--" he was not calling him by the right name on purpose "--and see if it inspired anything in him?" That man was a fucking idiot to not see her. Apparently it was something he and this man had in common.

Knightly watched as she squeaked. His brown furrowed again as he had not heard a adult woman squeak before However he continued and then she began thanking him. He stayed silent to let her finished. He did not need thanks, he needed results. He needed readers reading his paper. That would be thanks enough. Reward enough.

"Weekly." He controlled, "Readers will write in to you here, and the letters can be deliver to you or picked up by you. Each week you you pick a few of them to answer, and the letters and replies will be published." This was truing out to be easy. Most writers first asked about payment before they asked about other things.

"Your article will be due a few days before publishing, and I will edit. You will then be paid. Payment can be discussed once we see it does well. For now it is a trail run to see how the readers engage with you." Knightly did not often doubt in his choices for things to put in, but he was still trying to work out if she was a risk or reward.