Page 10 of The Devil's Bargain
When she said nothing further, something shifted in his expression. “There’s also... another project I’ve been considering. One that requires significant capital.”
“Oh?” Caroline fluttered her fan, the picture of mild interest.
“Clean water for London’s poorest districts. At rates they could actually afford. The children in St. Giles are drinking from contaminated wells. With the right infrastructure, we could prevent so many needless deaths.”
This unexpected revelation gave her a pause and something to ponder. Whether it was truth or manipulation remained to be seen.
Caroline maintained her blank smile. “How charitable of you. That sounds like a wonderful initiative. Perhaps you could discuss a possible donation with Mr Finch.”
“Of course.” His mask of polite condescension returned. “I shouldn’t trouble you with such details. Shall we discuss more pleasant topics?”
As he continued describing the wonders of France and Italy, Caroline noted how his frustration manifested in subtle ways—the tightening of his jaw, the slight edge to his tone. He was used to getting his way, this devil who thought her simple.
“The morning grows late,” she said finally. “I really must return home. These business matters you mention quite exhaust me.”
“Allow me to escort you.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly impose.” She stepped away before he could touch her again. “Though I do so appreciate your kindness in explaining all those complicated numbers about your brewery. Thirty thousand barrels! My word!”
She moved away before he could protest, her skirts swishing demurely against the gravel path. A tad excessive with her enthusiasm perhaps, but let him puzzle over that small slip.His prejudice would likely dismiss whatever suspicion he might have.
As she made her way home, Caroline found her thoughts returning unbidden to the way Devlin Elmstone had looked in the morning light, his tall frame cutting an impressive figure against the sky, those compelling eyes that seemed to see too much despite his assumptions about her. The way his mouth curved when he smiled, equal parts predatory and charming. Even his hands had drawn her attention—strong and elegant, gesturing as he spoke about his brewery.
She shook her head, irritated with herself. The devil was handsome, yes, but that only made him more dangerous. The way he’d moved closer during their walk, his presence overwhelming her senses, the subtle scent of his shaving soap teasing her... it was all calculated to disarm her, she was certain. Though her traitorous body had responded to his proximity in ways that concerned her.
The memory of his voice dropping low when he’d spoken of Almack’s sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. Such a masterful seduction, offering everything a respectable widow might want while looking at her in a way that suggested he’d like to offer considerably more.
But she couldn’t afford to be distracted by his devastating charm, no matter how her pulse quickened when he was near. She had a company to protect and a game to play. Even if her opponent was proving far more appealing than she’d anticipated.
6
The Improper Dinner
The 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 ourreputation is? Soon we may be barred even from Simpson’s if we flout propriety.”
