Page 6 of The Devil's Bargain
Her answering smile was tremulous, perfect. “You are too kind, Mr Elmstone. Oh! I see they brought out fresh lemonade. If you’ll excuse me...”
He watched her drift away, already planning his next move. A helpless widow playing at business would be easy enough to manipulate. It was almost disappointing, really. He’d expected more challenge from Edward Thurlow’s successor.
He lifted his glass in a gesture of premature triumph when she glanced back. Soon enough, he thought, she’d realise the futility of resisting his offer.
Caroline waited until most of the crowd had moved toward the refreshments before approaching Thomas Findlay. He stood examining the market reports posted on the Exchange’s brass-trimmed boards, his familiar profile silhouetted against the afternoon light streaming through tall windows.
“The cotton prices are rising again,” she said softly, positioning herself so they appeared to be casually sharing the financial notices.
Findlay’s shoulders tensed slightly before he turned. “Mrs Thurlow.” His voice held careful formality, though his eyes softened. “I was sorry to hear about Edward.”
“Were you?” She kept her tone light, maintaining the appearance of trivial conversation. “I seem to recall you predicting a sticky end for him years ago.”
“That was before he married you.” Findlay’s gaze flickered over her widow’s black. “Though I didn’t expect him to saddle you with his mistress.”
“Thank you.” She kept her voice neutral, aware of watching eyes. “I find myself in need of your professional assistance.”
Understanding dawned in Findlay’s eyes. “Like the old days? When you’d bring me your drawings to check the mathematics?”
“Similar.” She handed him a folded paper, making the movement appear casual. “I may need alternative arrangements, should certain parties force my hand regarding the company.”
Findlay tucked the paper into his coat. “I assume these ‘certain parties’ include the gentleman who’s been watching us for the past five minutes?”
Caroline didn’t turn to look. “He wishes to purchase my share of the company. And... I would be grateful if you could speak well of London Water Works to your associates.”
Findlay tucked the paper away, frowning slightly. “You wish me to recommend you to other gentlemen?”
“Their companies need reliable water supply. Surely a word from a respected engineer like yourself would ease their concerns about dealing with...” She hesitated. “My unusual circumstances.”
“Caroline.” His voice dropped lower. “While I’m happy to review your work as I always have, I cannot make personal introductions. You must understand—your situation with Miss Hampton—”
“I understand perfectly.” Her tone remained even, though her fingers tightened on her fan. “Perhaps just mention our excellent service record when the opportunity arises?”
He sighed. “I could speak to the quality of your systems. I am sorry I can’t do more.” His eyes darted past her shoulder. “Caroline, be careful. That man destroyed Richard Harrison’s business last year. Left him and his family destitute.”
“I’m aware of his reputation.”
Findlay stepped marginally closer, still maintaining proper distance. “Because his expression suggests more than mere business interest.”
Caroline felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I know how to handle ambitious men.”
He lowered his voice. His intimate tone held a hint of their shared past. “I seem to recall you being rather susceptible to charm when mixed with intellectual discourse.”
“That was years ago.” But she couldn’t help remembering those late nights in his study, poring over technical drawings, theoretical discussions dissolving into heated kisses.
Findlay hesitated, then spoke very quietly. “Perhaps we could discuss this further... privately? For old times’ sake?”
“Mr Findlay.” Her tone held warning. “I am in mourning, and London delights in speaking ill of widows who entertain gentlemen callers. Even old friends.”
He had the grace to look abashed. “Of course. Forgive me.” He straightened his coat. “I’ll review these specifications promptly. But please be cautious with Elmstone. He’s not a man to be trusted.”
“Thank you for your concern.” Caroline nodded politely and moved away, finally allowing herself to glance in Devlin’s direction. The intensity of his gaze made her pulse quicken, but she maintained her composure. Let him watch. She needed allies, yes, but she wouldn’t risk her reputation—or her heart—on any man again.
As Elmstone raised his glass in a toast, Caroline turned away and headed towards her carriage. She sank into the cushioned seat, finally allowing her rigid posture to collapse as the door closed behind her. Her hands trembled slightly as she removed her gloves. Three hours of maintaining that vapid smile, of pretending not to notice the snubs and whispers and beingforced to shy away from the more obvious ones, had left her exhausted. But it had been necessary.
She hadn’t attended the Merchant’s Exchange gathering to socialise. She’d known perfectly well how she would be received. But these functions were where contracts were discussed, alliances formed, and most importantly, where the early whispers of business opportunities could be overheard by those paying attention. And Caroline had learned long ago that people spoke quite freely in front of a woman they assumed to be stupid.
Tonight, she’d learned of two potential contracts before anyone else would hear of them. The Westminster district was planning to expand their water services, and the new hospital would need reliable water supply. Information that would prove invaluable if Devlin Elmstone didn’t plan to upend everything. That measuring look in his eyes, the calculating edge beneath his appreciation, had her standing straighter, more alert.
