Page 9 of The Devil's Bargain
“Then allow me to suggest a more discrete path.” His eyes held a dangerous glint of amusement.
She hesitated, aware of more curious glances from other walkers. Her reputation was already precarious enough, living in the same house as Edward’s former mistress. The last thing she needed was rumours about walks with London’s most notorious businessman.
“Very well,” she conceded with obvious reluctance. His hand settled at her waist, steering her toward a tree-lined avenue. She noted how his chosen path would take them past the brewery district. How convenient.
“You see?” His voice held that insufferable note of satisfaction. “Much more suitable for a lady in your delicate situation.”
Caroline allowed herself to be guided while mentally calculating how much information she could extract about his business during this “chance” encounter. “You are too kind to consider my reputation, Mr Elmstone.”
They walked in silence for a moment, Caroline careful to maintain an appropriate distance despite his attempts to draw closer. As they approached an ornate stone arch, Devlin paused.
“Ah, the Lover’s Arch,” he said, gesturing to the Latin inscription carved above. “Sub arcu amor fulget, sussurri dulces, cor evolat.”
“How lovely!” Caroline fluttered her fan. “Though I’m afraid my education didn’t extend to Latin.”
His smile held a hint of condescension. “It means ‘Beneath the arch, love shines bright. Sweet whispers, the heart takes flight.’ Legend says those who pass beneath it will find their true love’s destiny fulfilled.”
“How romantic!” She forced a girlish giggle. “Though I’m sure a man of business like yourself has little time for such fanciful notions.”
“On the contrary.” His voice dropped lower as he guided her under the arch. “I find certain... partnerships quite intriguing.”
“Do you indeed?” She pretended to study a nearby flower. “Though surely your interests lie more in beer than romance?”
“Ah, so you’re aware of my brewery.”
“Oh yes!” She brightened with carefully calculated enthusiasm. “The drays with your name pass my house daily. So many barrels! Though I can’t imagine how you manage to make enough beer to fill them all.”
His laugh held genuine amusement. “Our current capacity is thirty thousand barrels annually, though with the right improvements we could double that.”
“Gracious!” She pressed her gloved fingers to her lips. “So many numbers make my head spin. Is clean water important for brewing? Is that why you’re keen on purchasing Edward’s company?”
“Indeed.” His eyes sharpened with interest. “Which reminds me of our previous discussion regarding London Water Works. Have you given any thought to my offer?”
“Oh, business matters are so tedious.” She waved her fan dismissively while her mind raced through calculations. Thirty thousand barrels, each requiring precise filtration... With her system, he could increase production by at least sixty percent without additional space requirements. The profit margin alone would be astronomical.
“A lady in your position shouldn’t have to concern herself with such matters,” he said smoothly. “Allow me to take that burden from your shoulders.”
“You’re too kind.” She paused to admire a flowering bush, buying time to think. “Though Mr Finch says the company’s value has increased considerably since Edward’s passing.”
A flash of frustration crossed his face before his mask of solicitous concern returned. “The responsibilities must beoverwhelming. Surely you’d prefer a life of ease? Perhaps even travel?”
“Travel does sound lovely.” She sighed dramatically. “Though I fear my understanding of foreign languages is as limited as my grasp of Latin.”
“Perhaps I could be your guide,” Devlin offered smoothly. “Paris in spring. The fashions, the opera, the finest pastry shops in Europe. A lady of your refinement would be quite at home there.”
“How thoughtful of you to consider my pleasure, Mr Elmstone.”
“I find that business need not exclude life’s finer enjoyments.” His voice softened persuasively. “With the resources from selling your shares, you could maintain a house in Mayfair, attend all the best social gatherings.” He paused as he looked at her askance. “Lady Jersey spoke of you just the other day.”
Caroline’s fan stilled for just a moment. Lady Jersey was one of Almack’s most formidable patronesses.
“Did she indeed?” Caroline kept her tone carefully disinterested.
“She was quite receptive when I mentioned what a... shame it was that certain temporary circumstances had kept you from Almack’s.” He held her eyes meaningfully. “She agreed that a woman of your background deserves better than to be judged by unfortunate living arrangements that were not of your choosing.”
The offer hung between them—social redemption, vouchers to Almack’s, acceptance back into the highest circles of society. All merely for the price of her shares in the company.
“How charitable of you to speak on my behalf,” she murmured, though her mind raced. Few powers in London could override an Almack’s patroness’s disapproval. That Devlin wielded such influence was... intriguing.
