Page 12 of The Devil's Bargain
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 aperfect 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 adjustmentof 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 largerenterprise 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 façade. The way she’d met his every challenge with equalwit, 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.
