Page 9 of The Devil’s Bargain (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life #2)

9

The Widow’s Price

“ S uch a shame we weren’t invited to Lady Bentley’s garden party,” Hampton sighed, sprawled across the settee in Caroline’s private sitting room. She toyed with a strand of golden curls, her morning gown deliberately arranged to display her figure. Caroline noticed how Hampton’s eyes darted to gauge her reaction. “Heard Mr Elmstone will be there. He’s quite taken with you, Caroline.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Caroline continued reviewing the quarterly accounts, mentally preparing for the demand as Hampton appeared to be sharing this information with a purpose. Her dogged interest in Devlin’s supposed regard was not surprising.

“Oh, at least he is with your brain.” Hampton’s smile held a predatory edge that only enhanced her probing interest. “The way he watched you at the exhibition... it was as if he was trying to understand a strange creature—not a man nor a woman. Though given his reputation, he may be curious about you nevertheless. The things I’ve heard about his private parties at that hunting lodge of his...” She let the words trail off suggestively, watching Caroline with barely concealed anticipation.

Caroline noted how Hampton’s fingers drummed against the settee’s arm—a tell she’d observed whenever the woman was setting up one of her little schemes. “I’m not interested in gossip, Miss Hampton.”

“No? Not even when it may solve all our problems?” Hampton rose gracefully, moving to pour herself more tea. Her reflection in the mirror betrayed how closely she studied Caroline’s face. “They say he keeps a private suite at Madame Tansley’s. Very... exclusive. The sort of place where real business happens, while ladies like us sit at home arranging flowers.”

Caroline’s pen stilled for just a moment, not from shock at the revelation, but from understanding Hampton’s game. The woman was trying to scandalise her, perhaps hoping she’d make a fool of herself pursuing Devlin’s supposed interest. Or more likely, Hampton was testing the waters before making her own move.

“Arranging flowers?” Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. “In all the years you’ve lived here, I’ve never once seen you arrange so much as a daisy. The gardener does all your arrangements, and poorly at that.”

Hampton’s cheeks flushed. “Well, I—”

“And as for Madame Tansley’s, I can confirm Mr Elmstone does indeed keep a private suite there. Flo, I mean Madame Tansley, mentioned it to me just the other day,” Caroline lied to shock and annoy the other woman.

“Flo?” Hampton’s teacup clattered against its saucer. “You refer to her by her Christian name?”

“Oh, Madame Tansley is a courtesy title, really. The original Madame Tansley started the establishment decades ago. Flo’s been running it for years now, though I confess I don’t know her family name. Few do. It’s a convenient way to maintain discretion in her position.” Caroline smiled sweetly. “But she’s been a dear friend for quite some time.”

Hampton’s face had gone rather pale. “I had no idea you were... acquainted with such persons.”

“My dear Miss Hampton, there’s quite a lot you don’t know about me.” Caroline returned to her accounts, satisfied she’d made her point. She watched from beneath lowered lashes as Hampton shifted on the settee, clearly recalculating her approach. The woman never could resist attempting manipulation, even when outmanoeuvred.

“We could help each other, Caroline. I want my social standing back. Why, when Edward was alive, he took me to the opera, ballet, and all sorts of house parties hosted by his business acquaintances. Mr Elmstone could provide social connections for me and business connections for you, with the right... handling.”

Now we come to it, Caroline thought. Hampton was fishing for permission, trying to establish herself as the natural choice to seduce Devlin. “Are you asking me to support your seduction of Mr Elmstone?”

Hampton’s pretty face turned sly. “I know how to please a man. I’m the natural choice out of the two of us. All you have to do is sit back and reap the benefits of my charm.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t prefer a woman like me? We have more in common.”

Hampton laughed. “What do you know of men, with your pipes and calculations? Elmstone might want your shares, but he’s a man like any other. From what I hear, he wants delicate on the inside and curvaceous on the outside.”

Caroline returned to her accounts, dismissing Hampton with indifference.

Hampton continued, “I don’t need your permission, but you could assist me by staying out of my way. Stop monopolising his time when we’re together.”

Caroline’s mind was racing, not from Hampton’s crude manipulations, but from the unexpected intelligence about Madame Tansley’s. If Devlin truly kept a private suite there, it could prove useful. She just wasn’t certain how.

Caroline made her way through the quiet back streets toward Madame Tansley’s establishment, her thoughts turning to her long friendship with Florence Archer. Six years had passed since that fateful night when Caroline had discovered her maid Lucy sobbing in the kitchen, confessing how her father’s gambling debts had forced her into Drury Lane’s darkest corners. Rather than abandon the girl, Caroline had sought out the woman whispered about in servants’ circles—the mysterious Madame Tansley who helped women escape such desperate circumstances.

What began as helping one woman evolved into something far greater. While Caroline had initially offered financial support, she soon discovered her mathematical skills were of more use. Helping Flo transform the generous endowment from The Sovereign Seas Trading Corporation, granted by the Earl of Carlisle half a century ago, into a thriving enterprise that sustained both the brothel’s legitimate business and its charitable works. Caroline found satisfaction in balancing the books each month, knowing that behind the glittering facade of London’s most exclusive establishment lay a sanctuary that had helped dozens of women reclaim their lives and dignity.

Now, as she slipped through the servants’ entrance, Caroline smiled at how naturally their unlikely friendship had developed. Flo’s sharp wit and shrewd understanding of human nature complemented Caroline’s analytical mind perfectly. The fact that Tansley’s “house” also served as an exceptional gathering place for intelligence was, as Flo often said with a wink, simply good business sense. She had become one of Caroline’s closest confidantes and most trusted allies.

“My dear Caroline.” Flo’s voice held the musical lilt of a woman who knew too much about men’s desires. She arranged her silk skirts with grace as she settled into the chair. “There are safer ways to gather intelligence than this. These men... their hands tend to wander where their minds already have. Is it worth compromising your dignity? You’re a woman of science, of innovation.”

“And what good is innovation without influence?” Caroline’s fingers traced the edge of Flo’s ornate dressing table. “I’m caught in a web of my own making. Too improper for society’s wives, too proper for their husbands’ business ‘dealings’ at The Argyll Rooms. Meanwhile, contracts slip through my fingers, and Devlin Elmstone circles like a vulture, waiting for me to surrender London Water Works to his empire.”

“Very well.” Flo rose with fluid elegance, her fingers tilting Caroline’s chin toward the mirror. “If you’re determined to play this dangerous game, let’s ensure you play it brilliantly. Your beauty is like a pearl still in its shell—understated, waiting to be revealed. We’ll place you in the blue room, adjacent to Lord William’s usual chambers.”

Caroline inhaled sharply. “Lord William? The Governor of the Bank of England?”

“Indeed. His lordship has engaged Samantha for Saturday next.” Flo’s smile held secrets. “Return at nine that evening, and we’ll transform you into something all together more... dangerous.”

“And...” Caroline hesitated, heat rising in her cheeks. “Mr Elmstone? I understand he’s a regular patron.”

“Ah, yes. He favours Sage for her wit, Laura for her curves. Occasionally both at once.”

“Is he...” Caroline swallowed, trying to hide her shock. “Is he particularly demanding in his tastes?”

“Nothing too shocking, dear. He simply enjoys the illusion of control. Silk ribbons, blindfolds, that sort of thing. Quite tame, really, compared to some.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. “Surely you don’t mean...”

“Oh, my sweet innocent.” Flo’s laugh sparkled like champagne. “You know very well our organisation find respectable work and marriage for women who don’t wish to work here. Those who do quite enjoy this work—being bound, spanked, even... Well, let’s not scandalise you further.”

“And his reputation for violence?” Caroline asked carefully.

Flo swiped the air with one hand, dismissing the rumour. “It’s reserved strictly for men who deserve it. With women, he’s rather...” she paused deliberately, “...skilled at giving pleasure.”

“Even when he... restrains them?”

“Especially then.” Flo’s knowing smile made Caroline flush deeper. “Some find surrender quite... liberating. Though that’s hardly something a respectable widow need concern herself with.”

But Caroline’s mind was already racing with possibilities she’d never dared contemplate, and from Flo’s amused expression, her thoughts were entirely too visible on her face.

“If anyone were to recognise me...” Caroline’s fingers twisted in her black mourning gown. She’d be cast out of every respectable circle in London, her reputation destroyed beyond salvation.

“Trust in my expertise, darling.” Flo’s eyes gleamed with professional pride. “Remember the story I shared about when I attended one of my father’s country parties?”

A laughter bubbled up in Caroline’s throat at the memory. “You went to steal from him to fund your rescue missions in those early days.”

“Yes. That was when I refused to run a brothel but quickly learned that I needed a source of income to continue the charity work. My own father didn’t recognise me then. A strategic veil, carefully placed... You’d be amazed how many gentlemen find mystery intoxicating. The forbidden allure of an unknown woman can loosen tongues far more effectively than wine.”

And so, a week later, Caroline found herself in the exclusive sanctuary of Madame Tansley’s private parlour. The room breathed wealth and discretion—thick Turkish carpets muffling footsteps, heavy velvet curtains shrouding gilt-framed mirrors, and everywhere the hushed murmur of men who ruled London’s financial world. These same men who would never deign to discuss business with a woman in proper society now spoke freely, assisted by liquid courage, believing themselves observed only by ignorant courtesans. She’d learned more about the Westminster contract in one hour than in weeks of proper business meetings.

Caroline adjusted her dark wig with care, the low-cut gown both armour and disguise. As she moved among the gentlemen serving drinks, she felt almost invisible. Just another pretty ornament in a room full of power. But beneath her carefully crafted facade, her mind recorded every whispered confidence, every carelessly dropped detail about contracts and negotiations that could never be learned in legitimate business circles.

Just when quiet descended on the brothel and Caroline thought about taking a rest, Flo approached her with purpose. “He’s here,” she whispered, drawing Caroline into a shadowed alcove. “Sage and Laura know to guide the conversation toward London Water Works. With the right... timing, let us hope he reveals more than he ought.”

Caroline followed Flo down a velvet-draped corridor to a small but elegantly appointed chamber. A hidden panel in the wall, cleverly disguised by ornate wallpaper, allowed sound to carry from the adjacent room.

“Stay here,” Flo instructed. “You’ll be able to hear everything of importance.”

Soon familiar voices drifted through the hidden panel. Devlin’s rich baritone made her pulse quicken despite herself. The rustling of fabric, soft feminine laughter, then a long masculine groan that sent heat pooling in her belly.

“Bring your sweet cunt over here, Sage,” she heard him command. Caroline gasped at his crude words, at how his voice had dropped to that silken purr she remembered from their own encounters. She told herself her quickened breathing was from indignation, not arousal.

“That’s it. Harder,” another female voice answered him, then Sage’s breathless moans filled the room. Whatever Devlin was doing to the woman was clearly skilled. The thought sent an unwelcome surge of jealousy through Caroline’s veins. Her hand crept between her thighs of its own accord, pressing against the ache that had built there.

“Bend over. Both of you,” he ordered. Caroline stifled her gasp with her free hand. The sounds that followed—rhythmic thumping, alternating feminine cries—painted an all too vivid picture. He was taking them both, switching between them with practiced ease. The realisation should have disgusted her. Instead, she found herself imagining his powerful body moving between them, those clever hands bringing pleasure...

Her fingers moved faster against her most intimate flesh as heat built in her core. She’d touched herself before, of course, but never like this, never while listening to such debauchery, never while imagining it was Devlin’s hands on her body instead of her own. When her peak hit, it took her by surprise with its intensity. She buried her face in her elbow to muffle her cry as pleasure crashed over her in waves.

The sounds from the other room stopped abruptly. Footsteps approached.

The door burst open, and Devlin stood in the doorway amidst securing his falls, his chiselled chest still heaving from his recent activities. His dark eyes blazed as they met hers.

“I demand you explain yourself at once, whoever you may be.” He strode forward and lifted her veil before she could stir. His expression shifted from anger to shock as recognition swept across his features. “Blast it all to hell, what are you doing here?”

Caroline lifted her chin, fighting the mortification that threatened to overwhelm her. Bad enough to be caught spying, but to be caught in such a compromising position, her cheeks still flushed from her own release...

“I suppose asking for discretion would be pointless?” she managed, proud of how steady her voice emerged.

His laugh held no humour. “Discretion? When I find a widow hiding in a brothel, pleasuring herself while listening to me fuck other women?’ He moved closer, backing her against the wall. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“I wasn’t...” But the lie died on her lips as his hand caught her wrist, bringing her fingers to his nose. The scent of her arousal was unmistakable.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “I can smell how wet you are.” His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her against the hard evidence of his renewed desire. “Did you enjoy the show, my brilliant Caroline? Did it excite you, hearing me bring other women pleasure?”

“You’re despicable,” she whispered, but her body betrayed her by arching into his touch.

“Perhaps.” His mouth brushed her ear. “But I’m not the one who came here to spy. Tell me, Caroline. What were you hoping to discover? My business secrets?’ His hand slid lower, bunching her skirts. “Or something more... personal?”

“Both,” she admitted, gasping as his fingers found her sensitive flesh. “I needed... oh!”

“Information?” He chuckled darkly as his clever fingers played her body. “Or this?”

“Devlin, please...” She wasn’t sure if she was begging him to stop or continue.

“Say it again.” His voice roughened. “Say my name like that. Like you’re dying for my touch.”

Instead, she pulled his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss. He groaned against her lips, lifting her against the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. The feeling of him, hard and ready against her centre, made her moan.

But before he could take things further, voices in the hallway made them freeze. The moment shattered like fine crystal dropped on marble.

Devlin set her down carefully, his breathing ragged. “This isn’t finished,” he warned, his eyes still dark with want.

“It has to be,” she said, smoothing her skirts with trembling hands.

His laugh was genuine this time. He caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “This is the beginning of something neither of us can resist much longer.”

As she watched him leave, Caroline knew he was right. The game they were playing had changed irrevocably. And she wasn’t entirely sure who was winning anymore.