Page 34 of The Devil's Bargain
“The copper alloy,” he mused, smiling as he recalled her parting suggestion. She hadn’t needed to share that insight. It was a small thing, but it gave him hope. Perhaps, with time and patience, he could earn her trust. Not just her mind, but her heart as well.
He began drafting a note to his metallurgist about procuring copper samples for testing. Tomorrow, he’d have them ready when she arrived because he knew she would, despite her protests. He’d seen the familiar hunger in her eyes, the same drive for excellence that consumed him.
“Time to update the ledgers,” he muttered, pulling out his account books. He’d need to restructure several investments to fund these improvements, but the thought now energised rather than daunted him. Every pound spent on her innovations was an investment in their future together.
Hours later, Devlin hesitated only briefly at Caroline’s door before entering. The moonlight caught her form beneath the sheets, and his breath lodged in his throat at how small and vulnerable she looked. So different from the fierce woman who had challenged him hours earlier.
The mattress dipped under his weight as he slipped beneath the covers. Caroline stiffened immediately, clearly not as asleep as she’d appeared.
“What are you doing?” Her voice was sharp with displeasure.
“Coming to bed, wife.” He kept his tone gentle despite the tension radiating from her. “As is my right.”
“Your right?” She started to move away, but he caught her waist, drawing her back against him.
“Please,” he whispered against her hair. “Let me hold you. Nothing more.”
His arousal was impossible to hide completely with her soft form pressed against him, but he focused on keeping his touch gentle, non-threatening. His hand found hers where it lay clenched in the sheets, his thumb stroking her palm until her fingers gradually relaxed.
“I never learned to read properly until I was twelve,” he found himself confessing, his voice barely audible. “Numbers came easily, but letters... they danced on the page. Tonight, watching you work, I felt that same shame. Like a guttersnipe pretending at education.”
Caroline held her breath. After a long moment, she whispered, “You asked intelligent questions.”
“Because you made complex principles clear.” His fingers traced idle patterns on her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter beneath his touch.
The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken things. Finally, she shifted slightly, not closer exactly, but no longer rigid with resistance.
“Your mathematical intuition is remarkable,” she offered quietly. “Especially for someone without formal training.”
He pressed his smile against her shoulder, recognising the olive branch for what it was. “High praise indeed, from London’s finest engineer.”
“Go to sleep, Mr Elmstone.”
But her hand remained relaxed beneath his, and when his arm tightened slightly around her waist, she didn’t protest. It wasn’t acceptance, not yet. But as he drifted off to sleep surrounded by the subtle lavender scent of her hair, Devlin allowed himself to hope that perhaps it was a beginning.
16
Becoming Mrs Elmstone
Caroline followed Devlin through the brewery’s iron gates, the scent of hops and yeast heavy in the morning air. She’d expected dark, cramped conditions like those she’d glimpsed in other factories. Instead, sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating well-organised workspaces and surprisingly content faces.
Workers paused in their tasks to bow or curtsy as Devlin passed. What struck her wasn’t just their deference, but the genuine warmth in their greetings. “Morning, Mr Elmstone!” called a broad-shouldered man hauling barrels. Devlin stopped to ask after the man’s wife, who had recently given birth. Caroline watched, startled, as her husband demonstrated detailed knowledge of his employee’s family circumstances.
“And this,” Devlin said, leading her to a row of massive copper vats, “is where your filtration system will revolutionise our process.” He removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves as he explained, revealing muscled forearms that caught her attention more than she cared to admit. When he reached up to tap one of the higher pipes, his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, andCaroline found herself studying the play of muscles beneath the fabric.
“Mrs Elmstone!” A group of female workers approached, their faces bright with curiosity. “We’ve been dying to meet you!”
“Is it true you designed the new filtration system yourself?” one asked eagerly.
Before Caroline could formulate a properly modest response, Devlin answered, “Indeed she did. My wife’s brilliant mind will help us produce the cleanest, purest beer in London.” The pride in his voice made her cheeks warm.
“The workers seem... happy,” she observed as they climbed to the upper level.
“They’re well-paid and treated fairly.” He helped her over a step, his hand lingering at her waist. “Happy workers make better beer.”
Caroline stiffened at his touch, hating how her skin heated beneath her dress where his fingers pressed. Was this all carefully orchestrated? Show the caring employer, the brilliant businessman, make her forget he was the same man who had threatened to destroy everything she’d built?
She noticed details that spoke of genuine care—the safety rails, the ventilation systems, even a small infirmary. Each discovery felt like a betrayal of her determination to hate him. A young boy ran past with a message, and Caroline realised none of the children appeared underfed or mistreated. She hadn’t expected his workers to genuinely respect rather than fear him.
