Page 8 of The Devil's Bargain
Caroline Thurlow
Let him interpret her hesitation as weakness, she thought with grim satisfaction.
Devlin read Caroline’s response for the third time, a smile playing at his lips. Her delicate handwriting and simple phrasing confirmed his assessment. Just another pretty widow out of her depth. What a shame, he mused, remembering how the black silk of her gown had hugged her elegant figure at the Exchange. Such refined beauty coupled with such a vacant mind.
“Sir?” His secretary cleared his throat. “Mrs Gaskell’s party sends word they’re still awaiting confirmation of your attendance.”
“Decline.” Devlin moved to the window, Caroline’s letter still in hand. “I have more pressing matters to attend.”
Like acquiring London Water Works for a fraction of its worth. Though, if he were honest, his eagerness to conclude the deal had as much to do with its current owner as its potentialvalue. He’d found himself thinking of her at odd moments. The graceful curve of her neck as she examined that painting, the way her copper hair caught the light, the soft sweep of her lashes against her cheek when she lowered her eyes in practiced modesty.
“Pity she’s such a featherhead,” he muttered, recalling their conversation. Her bland comments about pretty colours and how numbers confused her poor feminine mind had almost made him wince. Yet there was something oddly fascinating about her very helplessness. Like a delicate bird that needed protection from life’s harsher realities.
“The solicitor suggests increasing the offer,” Jenkins ventured. “The filtration system patents alone brought in nearly that much in licensing fees last quarter,” Jenkins noted carefully. “Not to mention the municipal contracts and—”
“Which means nothing to a woman who can barely manage her household accounts,” Devlin cut in. “She’ll see three thousand pounds as a fortune, never questioning the company’s true worth. Besides, women in her position are easily pressured. A few more weeks of social isolation, a few pointed comments about her living arrangements with the mistress...” He smiled, remembering how she’d flushed prettily at his proximity. “She’ll be grateful for any escape we offer.”
Though he had to admit, the thought of acquiring such an exquisite creature along with her company held its own appeal. She moved with unconscious grace, her figure a perfect blend of elegance and subtle curves that his hands itched to explore. Perhaps once the business was concluded...
“Draft another letter,” he instructed Jenkins. “Express concern for her situation. Hint at mounting pressures from investors. But maintain the original offer. She’ll never notice the disparity.”
Once the company was his, perhaps he could find other ways to appreciate Caroline Thurlow’s more obvious charms. After all, a woman that beautiful didn’t need to be clever.
5
A Chance Encounter
Devlin stood at his study window, watching the fog roll off the Thames. “You’re certain of her schedule?”
“Like clockwork, sir.” Jenkins consulted his notebook. “Mrs Thurlow takes her constitutional in Hyde Park each morning precisely at ten. Always the same path toward the Serpentine.”
Devlin nodded pensively. “And the other matter?”
“Miss Hampton was seen dining with Albert Graves from Imperial Water & Engineering. She appeared... quite receptive to his attention. There are rumours they’ve secured certain... advantages through their Treasury connections.”
Devlin’s fingers tugged at his cravat. Hampton might be a fool, but she’d been Edward Thurlow’s mistress long enough to know valuable details about the company’s operations. Given that Imperial had been systematically acquiring smaller water companies across London, if they were courting her…
“They’ve been buying up the competition,” Devlin said.
If Imperial got their hands on Caroline’s filtration system patents through Hampton’s loose tongue, Elmstone Brewing would stand no chance.
“Time grows short,” he murmured. “And our pretty widow proves more elusive than expected.”
“Shall I arrange another formal meeting?” Jenkins asked.
“No.” Devlin adjusted his cravat. “I believe I’ll take a walk this morning. Around ten, perhaps.”
The spring morning sparkled with promise as Caroline walked through Hyde Park’s winding paths. She’d chosen this hour carefully—late enough that her solitary walk wouldn’t raise eyebrows, early enough that most of London’s fashionable society still slumbered. The quiet gave her space to think, to calculate, to plan.
“Mrs Thurlow!” The rich baritone shattered her solitude. “What a delightful surprise.”
Caroline’s shoulders tensed before she arranged her features into an expression of vapid pleasure. Devlin Elmstone approached, looking devastatingly handsome in his morning coat. Though she suspected his “chance” encounter was about as accidental as her own carefully timed walks had been this past week.
“Mr Elmstone.” She dipped into a small curtsey, noting how his eyes followed the movement. “How fortunate to meet you here.”
“Indeed.” He fell into step beside her, too close for propriety. “It’s a fine morning for a walk.”
“Mr Elmstone,” she said in a low voice, glancing anxiously at a passing couple. “I am in mourning. It would be most improper to be seen walking with a gentleman.”
