Page 6 of The Devil’s Bargain (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life #2)

6

The Improper Dinner

T he following day, Caroline found Hampton waiting in the drawing room, practically vibrating with self-satisfaction. “Oh, I have the most wonderful news!” Hampton exclaimed, her face alight with calculated innocence.

The sight of Hampton’s gleaming eyes made Caroline’s temples throb. Just yesterday, she’d spent an hour explaining to the woman why she must keep London Water Works’ operations private. “There are vultures circling,” she’d warned, pacing before the fireplace while Hampton examined her reflection in a silver tea service. “Men who would steal everything we’ve built if given half a chance.”

“But surely they only wish to learn about the business,” Hampton had replied, adjusting a golden curl. “Mr Gaskell was ever so interested in Edward’s—our company.”

“That’s precisely my concern.” Caroline had fought to keep her voice level. “You must not reveal the extent of my involvement. Let them believe I’m merely Edward’s widow, too addled by grief to understand the technical aspects.”

“Why ever not? Shouldn’t you be proud of your achievements?”

“Pride comes after survival, Melissa. Please, promise me you’ll be discrete.”

But Hampton had merely laughed, patting Caroline’s hand like one would soothe a nervous child. “You worry too much, darling. These are gentlemen of quality. Besides, how else will I attract a wealthy husband if I don’t demonstrate my understanding of business matters?”

Now, watching Hampton practically glow with self-importance, Caroline felt her stomach sink. Whatever wonderful news the woman was about to share, she suspected it would prove anything but wonderful for London Water Works.

“What have you done now?” Caroline asked warily, noting the gleam in the other woman’s eye.

“I had the most fascinating encounter at the milliner’s today. Mr Elmstone happened by—quite by chance, of course—and naturally we discussed poor Edward’s business affairs.” Hampton adjusted her pink gown, decidedly not mourning attire while Caroline remained properly attired in black cotton, her only concession to vanity being the fine lace at her throat. “He expressed such concern about the company’s future. Before I knew it, I had invited him and his charming friend Mr Sutton to dine with us tomorrow evening.”

“You did what?” Caroline’s fingers clenched in her black skirts. “We discussed this, Melissa. We are in mourning. It’s completely inappropriate to entertain gentlemen callers.”

“Oh nonsense. Edward would want the company to thrive. Mr Elmstone was quite insistent that certain business matters couldn’t wait.” Hampton’s smile turned coy. “He can be very persuasive when he wishes.”

“I’m sure he can,” Caroline said tightly, seeing through the obvious manipulation. “Don’t you realise how precarious our reputation is? Soon we may be barred even from Simpson’s if we flout propriety.”

“You mustn’t blame me for trying. I’m certain everything will work to our advantage.” Hampton sniffed as she rose to her feet. “Do stop frowning, Caroline. It’s very unbecoming. The invitation is already extended. We can hardly withdraw it now without causing offence.”

Caroline watched Hampton sweep away to instruct the footman, her blood simmering with anger at both Hampton’s presumption and Elmstone’s machinations. The man was determined to insert himself into their lives, propriety be damned.

When the evening came, it proved more unsettling than Caroline anticipated as she took her seat at the dinner table. Hampton had arranged the place cards to seat Mr Sutton beside Caroline, while Mr Elmstone and herself sat opposite them.

She watched with carefully concealed irritation as Hampton found endless excuses to flirt with Devlin throughout the soup course, her laugh floating across the table at his every remark. Yet she noticed how his dark gaze frequently sought hers instead, carrying an intensity that made her pulse quicken despite her determination to remain unmoved.

“The municipal contracts must be quite lucrative,” he remarked, his tone casual as he broke a piece of bread. “Though I worry about smaller companies maintaining competitive positions in the current climate.”

“Is that so?” Caroline replied, adopting the dull expression she’d perfected as Edward’s wife.

“A company like London Water Works wouldn’t last two years against a giant like Imperial,” Sutton said.

“Indeed?” Caroline widened her eyes.

“Two years is optimistic, my friend,” Elmstone said, shaking his head mournfully. “Nine months to a year, I’d reckon.”

Hampton and Caroline both gasped.

Devlin studied her face with appreciation. She felt heat rise to her cheeks at his pointed look but maintained her facade. “Our managers are very capable.”

“Clearly.” His voice held a note that suggested she didn’t need to point out the obvious. When he reached for the salt cellar at the same moment she did, his fingers brushed hers briefly. The contact sent an unexpected shiver through her arm.

“Mr Elmstone,” Hampton interrupted, leaning forward in a way that displayed her décolletage to full advantage, “you simply must tell us about your latest social engagements. I hear your hunting lodge parties are quite... memorable.”

Caroline watched his response carefully, but his expression revealed nothing as he smoothly redirected the conversation. “Oh, yes. Once your mourning period is over, I’d be honoured to have you and Mrs Thurlow attend.”

“How wonderful!” Hampton exclaimed, applauding enthusiastically.

Caroline narrowed her eyes as Hampton’s hand seemed to be reaching for Devlin’s thigh. Their honoured dinner guest pretended not to notice. The silly woman was shameless.

When the remains of dinner were cleared away, Hampton suggested moving to the drawing room. As if pre-arranged, Mr Sutton quickly went around the table to pull the chair back for Hampton while Devlin assisted Caroline. The subtle scent of his shaving soap reached her, and she found herself acutely aware of his height and the breadth of his shoulders as he towered over her.

She placed her gloved hand on his arm with proper decorum, even as her pulse raced at his proximity. As they entered the drawing room, Caroline drew a steadying breath. The man was exhausting in multiple ways, and so was the pretence. She would need all her wits to maintain her defences through the remainder of the evening.

Devlin found himself increasingly intrigued by Caroline Thurlow as the evening progressed. There was something mysterious about her despite her simple exterior. Perhaps it was how the sharpening of her eyes didn’t quite match the words out of her mouth. It might have been the glint from the lantern or sparkles from the crystalware, but it had suddenly occurred to him that there might be more to Caroline Thurlow than met the eye.

Her black mourning gown should have been severe, but instead emphasised the elegant line of her throat, the subtle curves beneath layers of restraint. When they moved to the drawing room after dinner, he found himself acutely aware of how her skirts whispered against the Turkish carpet, how the firelight caught copper highlights in her brown hair.

“Have you travelled much, Mrs Thurlow?” Devlin asked, noting how her eyes had lingered on the painting of Venice hanging in the drawing room.

“Oh!” Caroline’s face brightened. “Edward promised to take me to Italy for our honeymoon when we first wed, but business always seemed to interfere. I understand the buildings are ever so pretty.”

“You could see them whenever you wished,” he offered smoothly, “once freed from these business obligations. You’ve been a dedicated wife to Edward for nearly a decade if I recall correctly. You should be exploring the Continent, not concerning yourself with men’s business.”

“How kind you are to think of my welfare.” She lowered her eyes demurely. “Though Edward did mention, before his tragic accident, of course, that the company might fetch sixty thousand pounds from the right buyer.”

Devlin nearly choked on his wine. “Did he indeed?” His tone grew patronising. “My dear Mrs Thurlow, your late husband may have overvalued certain... assets. Particularly given the fatal flaw in the current filtration system.”

Caroline’s eyes sharpened, surprising him. “A flaw?”

“Yes, you see...” He lifted his finger, sketching in the air. “The pressure differential in the secondary chamber creates unstable flow patterns. Rather like... well, imagine water swirling in your teacup. The same principle applies to—”

“Unstable flow patterns,” she repeated softly.

“I’m simplifying the technical aspects, of course. The mathematics are quite complex—”

“Are you referring to the supposed turbulence in the reduction valve?” Her voice had lost its airy quality, taking on a razor-sharp edge that made him pause. “The one that maintains laminar flow through precisely calculated compression ratios?”

Devlin’s gesturing hand fell slowly to the table, his certainty crumbling before her transformation.

“Had you examined the system with any degree of thoroughness,” she continued, her previously tame expression crystallising into something altogether more formidable, “you would have discovered that the pressure differential achieves a perfect harmony between flow rate and filtration efficiency. The mathematical principles behind it are, I assure you, the very height of elegance.”

“Caroline,” he breathed, scarcely aware he’d used her Christian name. The woman before him bore no resemblance to the simpering widow he’d so grievously underestimated. Her eyes sparked with intelligence, her spine straight as steel, her chin lifted in magnificent defiance.

“When one properly accounts for fluid dynamics under varying pressure conditions,” she continued, her words as precise as cut crystal, “the efficiency improvement follows a logarithmic progression rather than a linear one. A subtlety your remarkably simplistic explanation fails entirely to grasp.” Her voice carried the faintest tremor of suppressed rage. “In short, sir, my system is nothing less than perfection itself.”

She stood before him, magnificent in her fury, and Devlin found himself rising to meet her, drawn upward by the sheer force of her presence. Gone was the fluttering, delicate creature he’d dismissed so easily. In her place stood a woman of razor-sharp intellect and barely contained passion.

“Why?” The question escaped him before he could master himself. “Why maintain such an elaborate pretence?”

Her lips curved in a smile that managed to be both bitter and triumphant. “Surely a man of your renowned cleverness can divine the answer without my assistance.”

A laugh burst from him then, rich with genuine delight, and though he tried to stifle it behind his fist, the joy would not be contained. Caroline’s expression shifted from surprise to irritation before settling into reluctant amusement. He covered his eyes, overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of her deception and his own foolishness in falling for it.

She resumed her seat beside him with careful grace, though he noted how her gloved fingers betrayed her nervous adjustment of her lace cuffs. The drawing room had emptied around them, leaving them in dangerous privacy.

“I must offer my most profound apologies for my grievous underestimation of your capabilities, Mrs Thurlow,” he said finally. “Though I hardly think you can fault me for it.”

“Indeed?” Her voice held winter’s frost. “And why, pray tell, am I to absolve you of such grave misconception?”

“The fault lies in the perfection of your performance,” he replied, unable to keep the admiration from his tone. “You played your role with such consummate skill that any man would have been thoroughly deceived.”

“And what of you trying to undervalue my company, Mr Elmstone?” Her tone held an edge of steel. “Three thousand pounds? Your reputation for ruthlessness hardly prepared me for such breathtaking audacity.”

“I concede the offer was unconscionably low,” he admitted, admiring how the lamplight gilded her profile. “Though in matters of business, one must test the waters, must one not?”

“Ah, but there lies our fundamental disagreement.” Her voice carried elegant disdain. “There is a vast gulf between shrewd negotiation and the deliberate exploitation of what you presumed to be a desperate widow. I confess myself... disappointed.”

Her words struck deeper than he cared to admit, piercing some carefully armoured part of his heart.

“If you knew me better,” he said softly, “you might find me less the villain you imagine.”

“Indeed?” She arched one perfect eyebrow. “Merely misunderstood, are you?”

“Perhaps.” He studied her over the rim of his brandy glass, watching shadows dance across her fine cheekbones. “Have you considered the advantages of aligning yourself with a larger enterprise such as my brewery? One possessing both substantial capital reserves and established networks?”

“You speak of a business arrangement?” Though her tone remained light, he noted the slight tension in her shoulders.

“I speak of security,” he countered, allowing genuine warmth to colour his voice. “Protection against market vagaries, access to expanded resources. Complete freedom to pursue your remarkable innovations without financial constraint.”

Her fingers stilled on her glass. “A generous offer, but I must decline.”

“You realise, of course, that once Miss Hampton’s shares are mine, we shall be partners regardless.”

“Bold of you to assume she’ll favour your offer over mine.”

His smile held wicked promise. “You underestimate my powers of persuasion, Mrs Thurlow.”

“And yet here I sit, thoroughly unpersuaded.” Her gaze swept deliberately over his form, both challenge and assessment. “I fear you’ll need more than charm and empty promises to win my cooperation.”

Devlin’s laugh was rich with genuine delight. This woman proved more fascinating with each exchange.

Later, as propriety demanded their evening draw to a close, he found himself strangely reluctant to depart. He pressed a calculated kiss to Hampton’s cheek, noting with satisfaction how Caroline’s spine stiffened almost imperceptibly. Their eyes met across the room. Her glare met by his knowing wink, which only served to heighten her magnificent indignation.

In his carriage afterward, he found his thoughts returning inevitably to Caroline Thurlow. She had proved far more intriguing than he’d anticipated. Not merely for her carefully concealed brilliance, but for the fire he’d glimpsed beneath her proper facade. The way she’d met his every challenge with equal wit, that sublime defiance in her bearing even as she maintained perfect social grace.

Yes, he would have her company. But, increasingly, he found himself craving far more than mere business assets. He wanted to unravel all her carefully constructed defences, to witness that formidable intellect fully unleashed, to discover what passion lay beneath such rigid control.

It was becoming about far more than mere business strategy. And that, he admitted to himself, made Caroline Thurlow more dangerous than any market volatility.

In his study, Devlin moved to his desk where reports on the company’s assets were spread out. He picked up the letter from the patent office and smiled. It was as he’d suspected. The patent was in Caroline’s name.

The patents were the key piece he’d been missing. He’d wondered, of course. The innovations were far too brilliant for Edward Thurlow’s mediocre mind. But confirmation that Caroline held the patents in her own name changed everything. London Water Works’ established infrastructure would be valuable, certainly, but the true prize was the mind behind those engineering breakthroughs.

If Hampton proved troublesome about selling her shares, he had options now. All he truly needed was Caroline and those patents. Together, they could build something even greater.

He smiled, remembering how she’d flushed slightly when their hands had brushed. Beneath all that fury and determination lay a woman of flesh and blood, one who’d responded to his proximity with quickened breath and dilated pupils. The combination was intoxicating—her brilliant mind housed in such an elegantly sensual form.

He would have to move carefully. Caroline was too intelligent to be fooled by obvious manipulation, too proud to be bought, and too principled to be seduced by mere charm. But then, he’d always enjoyed a challenge. And Caroline Thurlow was the most fascinating challenge he’d encountered in years.