Page 3 of The Devil's Bargain
She carefully returned the contract to its folder and locked it in her desk drawer. The broken ink bottle still lay where it had fallen, its contents now dried into a stark black stain on the floorboards. Caroline regarded it thoughtfully before ringing for a maid. She would have the boards replaced entirely. There was no point in trying to clean a stain that ran so deep, much like Hampton’s presence in her life and marriage.
As she waited for the maid to arrive, Caroline began drafting a letter to the industrial district’s representatives. There would be no turning back now.
2
The Handsome Devil
The memorial reception filled Edward’s—no, her and Hampton’s—drawing room with a sea of black crepe and murmured condolences. Caroline stood near the fireplace, accepting each carefully worded sympathy with poise while observing faces of those she knew intimately from contracts and correspondence but had never met. Alderman Davies from Westminster, whose latest water expansion project she’d designed the filtration system for. Lord Ashworth, who’d fought so hard for clean water in his factory district. She’d solved every one of their problems from behind the scenes, while Edward took the credit in his meetings.
“Such a tragic accident,” Mrs Berry simpered, her eyes sharp behind her black-trimmed handkerchief. “And how... generous of you to share your home with dear Miss Hampton. Such a comfort she must be in your time of grief.”
Before Caroline could respond, a theatrical sob drew every eye in the room. Miss Hampton had collapsed onto the settee, her golden curls artfully arranged against the dark upholstery,her shoulders shaking with perfectly timed grief. Two young gentlemen rushed to offer their handkerchiefs.
“Mrs Thurlow.” Mr Finch appeared at her elbow, providing a welcome escape from Mrs Berry’s probing gaze. “Might I present Mr Devlin Elmstone? He has some interests in municipal development that would have fascinated your late husband.”
Caroline turned to find herself facing a tall, broad-shouldered man whose black mourning clothes did little to disguise his commanding presence. His features were sharp, aristocratic, but there was something predatory in his dark eyes that made her instinctively wary.
“Mrs Thurlow.” Elmstone bowed, his manner carrying that particular blend of condescension and courtesy men reserved for women of less import. “My deepest condolences.”
“Mr Elmstone.” She lowered her eyes demurely, remembering Edward’s warnings about this ruthless industrialist who devoured smaller companies without mercy. “How kind of you to attend.”
“Forgive my timing, but I must speak of business.” His voice softened as if addressing a child. “Your husband’s passing has created some concern about London Water Works’ future. I’m sure you understand how... unsettling uncertainty can be for investors.”
“Oh dear,” Caroline fluttered her handkerchief, employing the insipid expression she’d perfected as Edward’s wife. “I’m afraid business matters quite overwhelm me, Mr Elmstone. All those tiresome numbers and contracts.”
He smiled indulgently. “Of course. These concerns needn’t trouble your delicate sensibilities. I’d be happy to take such burdens from your shoulders, for a very generous sum, naturally.”
“You wish to buy the company?” She widened her eyes in practiced confusion. “But surely Mr Finch handles suchmatters? I barely understand how the machines work, let alone their value.”
“Come now, Mrs Thurlow.” He patted her hand with paternal condescension. “A grieving widow shouldn’t have to worry about running a company. Let me offer you a comfortable future, free from such masculine concerns.”
“You are too kind.” She blinked rapidly, as if fighting tears. “But I couldn’t possibly make such decisions without consulting my solicitor. My head simply can’t manage important matters so soon after Edward’s passing.”
“Of course, of course.” He withdrew a card from his pocket. “When you’re ready to discuss terms, my office is always open. These technical affairs are best left to those who understand them.”
Caroline accepted the card with deliberately trembling fingers. “You are most considerate, Mr Elmstone.”
“Mrs Thurlow!” Hampton’s voice carried across the room. “Do come help me relate that charming story about our first meeting!”
Caroline didn’t miss the calculating look Hampton shot at Devlin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe Miss Hampton requires my attention.”
“Indeed she does.” He caught her hand as she moved past, brushing his lips across her knuckles in a gesture that was perfectly proper yet somehow intimate. “We’ll speak again soon.”
His smile was almost pitying as she turned away. Men were so easily deceived by a few well-timed tears and an empty head.
Caroline joined Hampton on the settee, adjusting her black skirts as she sat. Her skin still tingled where Devlin’s hand had gripped it.
Hampton launched into a thoroughly inaccurate description of their first meeting, her hand resting possessively on Caroline’sarm. But Caroline barely heard her. She was too aware of Devlin Elmstone’s continued presence in the room, his attention a tangible weight even when she didn’t look his way. She couldn’t help but feel that a game had begun without her consent.
The last mourners had barely departed when Hampton swept into Caroline’s office without knocking. She perched herself on the edge of the desk, deliberately displacing a stack of carefully arranged papers.
“Well, wasn’t Mr Elmstone fascinating?” Hampton’s voice dripped honey, but her eyes were keen. “Such presence. Such... authority. Edward mentioned him often. Apparently he has quite the reputation with the ladies.”
“Does he?” Caroline carefully gathered the displaced papers, noting with irritation that Hampton had smudged the corner of a technical drawing. “I wouldn’t know about such things.”
“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Hampton traced a manicured finger along the brass fittings of a prototype filter. “Always so occupied with your little projects. Though I noticed you found time to speak quite intimately with him today.”
“He approached me about business matters.”
