Page 17 of The Devil’s Bargain (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life #2)

17

Falling for Mr Elmstone

C aroline watched from the gallery of the Merchant’s Exchange as Devlin systematically dismantled his latest rival. His tall form commanded attention, every gesture precise as he outlined terms that would strip James Bear of his shipping business.

“The interest rates are impossible,” Bear protested, his face mottled with fury and desperation. “You’d ruin me!”

“The terms are more than fair,” Devlin replied smoothly, though Caroline noted how his fingers tightened imperceptibly on his leather portfolio. “Considering the circumstances.”

“My family—”

“Should have been considered before you borrowed beyond your means.” Devlin’s voice carried just enough for the watching merchants to hear. “I’m offering you a chance to salvage something from this mess. I suggest you take it.”

Caroline felt a familiar chill at his calculated cruelty. This was her husband showing his true nature.

But then she noticed something curious. As Bear slumped in defeat, Devlin pulled out a second document. “Of course, there is another option.” His tone was carefully disinterested. “The Thames Street development project needs investors. Should you choose to redirect your shipping routes to serve that district...”

Caroline frowned, studying the map Devlin spread before Bear. Thames Street was one of London’s poorest areas, hardly a profitable venture. Yet something in Devlin’s stance suggested this was his true aim all along.

“The returns would be modest,” Devlin continued, “but steady. Enough to maintain your household, if managed properly.”

As she watched him deftly manipulate Bear toward accepting this “alternative,” Caroline caught a glimpse of another document partially visible in Devlin’s portfolio. The header read “Water Quality Assessment - St. Giles District,” but he quickly tucked it away.

The exchange ended with Bear looking simultaneously defeated and relieved, while Devlin maintained his mask of cold satisfaction. But Caroline couldn’t shake the impression that she’d witnessed something more complex than simple business execution.

Later, when she asked about the Thames Street project, Devlin merely smiled. “Sometimes, Mrs Elmstone, the most profitable ventures aren’t measured in pounds and shillings.”

Before she could press further, he was swept away by a group of investors, once again every inch the calculating businessman. But his cryptic response lingered in her mind, suggesting depths she hadn’t expected in her husband.

Caroline moved along the gallery’s edge, her mind still puzzling over Devlin’s cryptic words when she spotted Hampton’s distinctive golden curls. Her former housemate was practically draped over Albert Graves from Imperial, her tinkling laugh carrying across the room.

“Oh, Mr Graves, you’re too kind!” Hampton’s voice held practiced breathlessness. “I’ve always been praised for my observations.”

Caroline approached the couple, her hands clenched in her skirts as she watched Graves lean closer, his expression avid. “My dear Miss Hampton, you understand far more than you let on. Your insights about London Water Works’—”

Before Caroline could process the implications of this exchange, a familiar voice drew her attention.

“Caroline.” Thomas Findlay’s smile was warm as he approached. “You’re looking well.”

“Thomas.” She returned his smile, genuine affection mixing with old memories. “How are your experiments with steam pressure progressing?”

“Brilliantly, thanks to your suggestions about the valve configuration.” His eyes crinkled with remembered collaboration. “I still have your original drawings, actually.”

They fell easily into technical discussion, the way they used to during those late nights in his study. Caroline found herself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of their conversation, until she felt it—the weight of Devlin’s gaze from across the room.

She didn’t turn to look, but her awareness of him pressed against her skin like a physical touch. Though he made no move to interrupt, his presence seemed to fill the space between her and Thomas.

“Marriage suits you,” Thomas observed quietly. “Though I confess, I worried when I first heard about your nuptial.”

“Did you?” She kept her tone light though her pulse quickened.

“You deserve someone who appreciates you.” His voice held an edge of old regret. “Not just your patents.”

Now Caroline did glance toward Devlin, finding his attention fixed on her with an intensity that made her falter. He raised his glass slightly in acknowledgement but his eyes remained cold.

“He,” she said carefully, “appreciates more than you might think.”

Thomas studied her face. “You’ve changed, Caroline. There’s a confidence in you that wasn’t there with Thurlow.”

She nodded. “I suppose.”

“I’m relieved you’re not wilting under your husband’s oppression.” He lowered his voice. “If there’s anything you need, remember that you have a friend in me.”

She softened her tone. “Thank you.” She squeezed his arm gently.

Caroline remained acutely conscious of her husband’s watchful presence and found herself wondering which was more dangerous—Devlin’s obvious possessiveness, or the fact that part of her thrilled to it.

Devlin watched with carefully concealed pride as Caroline outlined her latest innovations to the Engineers’ Society. Her voice was clear and confident, her drawings impeccable as she explained complex principles to a room full of sceptical men.

“Preposterous,” Lord Symon interrupted, his face flushed with indignation. “A woman claiming to understand fluid dynamics? Next you’ll tell us she designed the filtration system herself.”

“Actually—” Caroline began, but Symon spoke over her.

“Really, Elmstone,” he turned to Devlin, deliberately ignoring Caroline. “Control your wife. This is embarrassing for all of us.”

Devlin felt rage surge through him at the dismissal in Symon’s tone. His fingers clenched around his glass as he fought the urge to throw the man bodily from the room. But he caught Caroline’s eye and saw the silent plea there—not for rescue, but for support.

“My wife,” he said, his voice carrying clearly through the room, “is the finest engineer in London. I’d stake my entire fortune on her designs.” He moved to stand beside her, not in front of her, his hand settling at the small of her back. “Please continue, my dear. I believe you were explaining the pressure differential calculations?”

Caroline’s smile was brief but brilliant before she turned back to her drawings. “Yes, as I was saying, gentlemen, the copper alloy composition allows for unprecedented efficiency...”

“This is absurd,” Symon blustered. “No respectable business would—”

“Elmstone Brewing has increased production by thirty percent since implementing my wife’s innovations,” Devlin cut in smoothly. “The numbers speak for themselves. Unless, of course, you find basic mathematics as challenging as accepting a woman’s expertise?”

A ripple of surprised laughter went through the crowd. Symon’s face darkened, but several other members were now studying Caroline’s drawings with genuine interest.

“The pressure valve design is particularly ingenious,” Thomas Findlay’s voice cut through the murmurs of disapproval. “I’ve tested similar principles myself.” He moved to stand near Caroline’s drawings, his presence lending credibility to her work. “Would you explain the internal mechanism, Mrs Elmstone?”

Devlin watched as his wife’s expression relaxed and her eyes sparkled toward her acquaintance. It was thoroughly infuriating.

As Caroline launched into a detailed explanation, Devlin maintained his position beside her, his hand perhaps pressing a bit too firmly against her back. Though his expression remained impassive, he noted with sharp clarity how naturally Caroline and Findlay worked together, their shared technical vocabulary and easy intellectual rapport speaking of years of collaboration.

Devlin found himself simultaneously grateful for the support and wanting to throttle the man. Instead, he focused on memorising which men seemed swayed by Thomas’s endorsement and which remained hostile—valuable intelligence for future business dealings, he told himself, not at all an attempt to distract from the obvious attachment between his wife and her friend.

When she finished her presentation, the questions were still sceptical but no longer dismissive. Devlin watched her handle each challenge with precision and grace, stepping in only when social conventions demanded it.

“Remarkable work, Mrs Elmstone,” a young engineer named Harrison said afterward while others gathered around to examine her drawings more closely. “Your husband must be very proud.”

“Indeed I am,” Devlin replied, his hand still at her back. “I claim credit for having the good sense to recognise her talent.”

Later, in their carriage, Caroline finally relaxed against her seat. “Thank you,” she said softly though somewhat reluctant. “For understanding what I needed.”

“Which was?”

“A partner, not a protector.” She met his eyes in the dim light. “Though I suppose you managed to be both today.”

Devlin lifted her hand to his lips and was gratified that she didn’t recoil. “The world isn’t ready for a woman innovator, but I intend to help them adjust to the idea, whether they like it or not.”

Her quiet laugh warmed something in his chest. It was a delicate balance, being both husband and champion to a woman so far ahead of her time. But watching her shine today had made him realise he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Next time,” he mused, “we should bring the production figures. Nothing silences critics quite like profit margins.”

“Next time?” She raised an eyebrow. “You assume I’ll want to face that gallery of doubters again?”

“My love, I assume you’ll have them all building your designs within the year.” His smile held equal parts pride and certainty. “And I’ll be right beside you to witness it.”