Page 7 of The Devil's Bargain
She pressed her fingers to her temples, grateful for the carriage’s privacy. Though Elmstone had proven disappointingly easy to deceive, his physical presence was another matter entirely. How different he was from Edward—all raw power and masculine grace where her late husband had been soft and scholarly.
“Foolish man,” she murmured, remembering how he’d loomed over her in the alcove, clearly attempting to intimidate what he assumed was a helpless widow. Yet her heart had lurched traitorously at his proximity, her body responding to his overwhelming maleness even as her mind dismissed his patronising offers.
The carriage hit a rough patch of road, jostling her. Caroline wished she could dislodge the memory of those broad shoulders blocking out the room, the predatory way he moved. She’d watched him threaten Worthington, had seen the colour drain from the other man’s face. Whatever Elmstone had said, it hadbeen devastatingly effective. Such controlled power in one so brutally handsome. It was almost unfair.
“Stop being ridiculous,” she chided herself. “He’s just another man who thinks he can own you.” Yet even as she said it, she couldn’t quite forget how his dark eyes had lingered on her, how his voice had softened when making his condescending offer. As if he thought gentle words could tempt a silly widow to surrender.
She pulled her notebook from her reticule, forcing herself to focus on recording the evening’s intelligence while it was fresh. Her handwriting betrayed a slight tremor—from anger at his presumption, she told herself firmly. Not from the lingering awareness of how his cologne had teased her senses when he bent close.
Hampton would be waiting at home, eager to hear if anyone had asked after her. Caroline’s lips curved in a bitter smile. Let her believe these functions were merely social obligations. Better that than having anyone, especially Devlin Elmstone, realise she was slowly building her own network of information and influence.
The carriage turned onto her street, and Caroline straightened her spine, tucking away both her notebook and her unwelcome attraction to a scoundrel who planned to take advantage of a hapless widow. She had masks to maintain, a company to protect. She couldn’t afford to let Elmstone’s devastating masculine appeal distract her from her purpose.
As she descended from the carriage, she couldn’t quite suppress a shiver at the memory of his parting toast. Something about the way his eyes had lingered on her, that knowing smile playing at his lips, suggested a man who could prove dangerously distracting to her carefully laid plans. Worse yet, his undeniable charm and commanding presence would make their game of cat and mouse far more complicated than she’dbargained for. Regardless, his assumption that she was just another helpless widow to be managed would work to her advantage.
4
The Widow’s Empire
Caroline sat behind her late husband’s imposing mahogany desk, her back straight and her face a mask of polite attention. Across from her, Mr Finch shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers drumming against a thick envelope. The clock on the mantel ticked away the seconds, its sound unnaturally loud in the tension-filled room.
“I’ve been approached by Mr Elmstone’s solicitor,” Finch began carefully. “He’s prepared to offer three thousand pounds for the company outright.”
Caroline’s fingers tightened imperceptibly on her skirts. Three thousand pounds? The filtration system alone was worth ten times that amount. She forced herself to remain calm.
“So much money?” she said with sarcasm while fluttering her handkerchief. “How generous of Mr Elmstone to consider two helpless women in such dire straits.”
Finch withdrew Devlin’s letter from the envelope. “He suggests the sum would allow both you and Miss Hampton to establish more... appropriate living arrangements. Separate ones.”
“May I?” She accepted the letter, noting the precise, commanding handwriting:
My dear Mrs Thurlow,
In light of your difficult circumstances, I feel compelled to offer assistance. The burden of managing such technical enterprises must weigh heavily on your gentle sensibilities. I propose to relieve you and Miss Hampton of these concerns for the sum of three thousand pounds, allowing you both to pursue more suitable activities and living arrangements.
The complex mechanical and mathematical aspects need not trouble you further. I assure you this is a most generous offer, considering the company’s uncertain future under feminine guidance.
I await your timely response, confident you will see the wisdom in accepting this providential solution to your predicament.
Yours sincerely,
Devlin Elmstone
“Such kindness,” Caroline murmured bitterly. “That’ll be all, Mr Finch.”
After Finch departed, Caroline sat motionless until his footsteps faded. Then she stood, moving to the window that overlooked the factory yard. Workers scurried about like ants, the machines humming with life that she had helped create. Her fingers crushed Devlin’s letter, fury finally breaking through her careful mask.
“Three thousand pounds,” she whispered, calculating rapidly. “Not even a quarter of last year’s profit. And he thinks me fool enough to accept?”
She smoothed the crumpled paper, noting the subtle arrogance in every line. How easy it would be to respond with the true figures, to demonstrate exactly how much he hadundervalued both her and her company. But no. She had an advantage over him by maintaining this façade.
She moved to her desk, drawing out fresh paper and pen. Her hand was steady as she composed her response:
Dear Mr Elmstone,
Your most generous offer quite overwhelms my feminine understanding. Pray allow me time to consult with those better versed in business matters. My delicate nature requires careful consideration of such weighty decisions.
Your humble servant,
