Page 8 of The Devil’s Bargain (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life #2)

8

The Brewing Storm

D evlin stood at the window of his opulent office, overlooking the sprawling expanse of his brewery. The air was thick with the scent of hops and yeast, a smell that had once represented his triumph over poverty. Now, it served as a constant reminder of the empire he had built and the lengths he would go to protect it.

He turned as the door opened, admitting his secretary, Mr Jenkins. “Any news?” Devlin asked, his voice taut with anticipation.

Jenkins shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. Mrs Thurlow’s solicitor has sent another polite refusal to your latest offer.”

“This is becoming tiresome, Jenkins,” Devlin muttered, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “There must be a way to make her see sense.”

Devlin’s jaw clenched. It’d been seven months since Thurlow’s funeral, and each passing day only intensified his desire to acquire London Water Works. He had repeatedly waited for her in her parlour for an audience for over an hour with flowers and gifts in hand, had increased his offer twice, but Mrs Thurlow was proving to be as resilient and shrewd as he had feared.

Images from their subsequent meetings in public flickered through his mind like scenes from a magic lantern show. Caroline in the governor’s office, sunlight catching the copper and red highlights in her hair as she methodically dismantled his latest proposal, albeit with frazzled giggles and using baking as analogy. Caroline at the shareholders’ meeting, sitting with quiet authority while men twice her age scoffed and glared. Caroline touring the Imperial factory floor, her skirts gathered carefully as she disguised her questions as accidental by comparing the steam engine to a teapot. Her technical knowledge and tact had impressed him and fanned the need to probe her mind. But each time he tried to get close, her protection officers stood between them with Caroline not even glancing in his direction before taking her leave.

Each encounter revealed new layers to her complexity. He’d glimpsed how her fingers, though delicate, bore slight calluses from handling tools and drafting implements. How she carried a small notebook everywhere, jotting down observations in an elegant hand. The way her eyes lit up when discussing engineering innovations, a passionate brightness that made his breath catch unexpectedly.

But it was more than her beauty that haunted him. Her mind was like one of her company’s machines: precise, efficient, constantly working. She saw through his carefully constructed arguments with devastating accuracy, countering each point with logic he couldn’t fault. The few times he’d managed to surprise her, a slight smile had played at the corners of her mouth, not the polite society smile she wore like armour, but something genuine and fleeting that made him want to earn it again.

He found himself looking forward to their accidental meetings or happenchance debates with an eagerness that had nothing to do with business. The way she would tilt her head slightly when considering a point, the subtle arch of her eyebrow when she detected a flaw in his reasoning, the occasional flash of wit that emerged when her guard dropped. All of it fascinated him more than he cared to admit.

“If I may, sir,” Jenkins ventured, pulling Devlin from his reverie, “perhaps a different approach is needed. Mrs Thurlow seems quite committed to maintaining her independence.”

He realised he had been staring into space, lost in thoughts that had no place in a business discussion. Yet try as he might, he couldn’t shake the image of those enigmatic eyes studying him across the desk, seeing far more than he had intended to reveal.

“Let us try another approach, Jenkins. Perhaps appeal to her sensitive nature. A charity? A girls’ school in her village? Meetings with top engineers in the country? Anything to entice her. You must get creative, Jenkins.”

As Jenkins left to carry out his orders, Devlin returned to the window. In the distance, he could see the Thames, its waters vital to his brewing process. But the river was becoming increasingly polluted, threatening the quality of his beer. Thurlow’s filtration system wasn’t just a convenience. It was becoming a necessity.

Over the next few weeks, Devlin launched a charm offensive. He sent lavish gifts to Caroline—rare books, a meeting with the top engineer at Royal Society, even a small yacht. Each was politely declined with a note expressing her lack of interest in both the gifts and his continued offers for the company.

Frustrated, he tried a more direct approach, showing up unannounced at London Water Works. Caroline met him in the factory yard, her hair slightly dishevelled and her dress smudged with what looked like machine oil.

“Mr Elmstone,” she said, her tone cool. “This is becoming quite tedious.”

Devlin plastered on his most charming smile. “Mrs Thurlow, I assure you, my interest in your company is entirely sincere. Perhaps if you’d allow me to explain my vision over dinner—”

“Mr Elmstone,” Caroline interrupted, her eyes flashing. “I have no interest in dinner or in selling my company. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to.”

The encounter left Devlin more intrigued and frustrated than ever before. He redoubled his efforts, using his connections to apply pressure on Caroline’s suppliers and customers. But she countered each move skilfully, securing new contracts and expanding her market share.

As autumn turned to winter, Devlin found himself at a crossroads. His latest financial reports showed a worrying trend. Without a more efficient filtration system, his brewing empire was at risk. London Water Works was no longer just a desirable acquisition. It had become crucial to his survival.

On a cold December evening, Devlin sat in his study, a snifter of brandy in hand. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room.

He had underestimated her from the start, treating her as a simple obstacle to be overcome. Now he saw her as a worthy opponent and a potential ally if only he could find a way to bring her to his side.

But how? She had rebuffed every offer, every attempt at persuasion. What leverage could he possibly use to change her mind?