“You are a mocking bastard, Melborne.” Sterling spoke without rancor.

  “I am also a man in love, which is why I am wholeheartedly welcoming you into the group of the fallen men!” Melborne announced lightly.

  “Elizabeth does not love me,” he reminded.

  The other man sobered. “You will not know that until you have found her and asked her why she left you so abruptly while you were out punching and threatening her father-in-law.”

  “Really?” the duchess gasped.

  Sterling knew the reason she was so shocked was because he was usually the most even-tempered of men. Usually. When Elizabeth was not involved. Then his emotions seemed constantly in disarray.

  “I told you why she left,” he snapped at Melborne.

  “Because you believe you had taken advantage of her.”

  “Yes!” Sterling could not even look at the duchess now.

  Melborne shrugged. “The situation, as you described it to me, sounded to be as a result of a mutual attraction.”

  Elizabeth had only seemed to become upset after Sterling had made that comment regarding her feeling obligated to indulge in intimacy with him.

  “Gossip in the shops this morning was that a bedraggled Lady Marshall was seen arriving and being helped down from the carriage and into her parents’ home late yesterday evening,” the duchess put in conversationally. “The speculation is rife as to why she looked that way. I did not, of course, see any reason why I should satisfy that curiosity by imparting any of the contents of your letter explaining her father-in-law’s treatment of her and her need to escape from him. I had no idea your…closeness to the lady was part of the reason for her appearing so distressed, Bristol.” She eyed him speculatively.

  Again, it was no surprise to Sterling that Melborne had shared the contents of that letter with his wife.

  Or that Melborne’s comments had now allowed her to know exactly how badly Sterling had behaved toward Elizabeth.

  He rose abruptly to his feet. “When I called upon the Ameses’ home yesterday, they told me their daughter was still in Cornwall.” In the circumstances, he hadn’t liked to disabuse them of that fact, believing that Elizabeth would contact them once she was settled. Wherever that might be. It seemed she had gone to her parents’ home after all.

  “No doubt at the time that is what they believed,” the duchess said softly. “They now know differently.”

  “Where are you going?” Melborne enquired when Sterling marched toward the doorway.

  “To speak to Elizabeth, of course,” he stated decisively.

  “Do you not think it would be wiser to leave it a day or so, to give her time to recover from her long journey?” the duchess suggested.

  Sterling, knowing Elizabeth was in London and that he might see her again today if he so wished, didn’t welcome the idea of having to wait a minute longer than he needed.

  “I do not presume to know Lady Marshall well,” the duchess continued. “But before she went to Cornwall, we had met on several occasions at the orphanage where I also volunteer my services.”

  “You had?” Sterling prompted, eager to hear any news about Elizabeth.

  The duchess nodded. “She is warm and lovely, also quiet and conscientious. The children all adored her.”

  Of course they did, Sterling acknowledged affectionately. How could they not love someone as warm and caring as Elizabeth?

  “How shall I put this next part?” the duchess murmured as if to herself. “I had the distinct impression that Lady Marshall is also very aware of the…circumstances of her family, in that the Ameses are not wealthy nor of the top echelon of Society.” Her mouth thinned. “A fact, from what you wrote in your letter, her father-in-law seems to have taken complete advantage of.”

  “What are you trying to say, my love?” Melborne prompted gently.

  The duchess’s gaze remained fixed on Sterling. “That Lady Marshall is a proud and steadfast woman. Not in an arrogant way, but in a way that, despite having been married to the heir of the Earl of Whitlow, and now being the mother of the heir to that earldom, she is fully aware of her own lack of social standing and connections. I do not have all the details of your own…friendship with her, Bristol, but from the little I have understood from your conversation with Melborne just now, having the Duke of Bristol demanding to see her the day after she has arrived at and been taken into the sanctuary of her parents’ home would, I fear, be met with a blunt refusal.”

  Sterling flinched at the thought of Elizabeth turning away from seeing him again. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Wait a day or two,” she encouraged. “Give Elizabeth time to recover from the long journey and to once again feel safe and loved within the bosom of her family.”

  “You think she will then agree to see me?”

  The duchess smiled. “I believe by then, when she is no longer fatigued from traveling so far, Elizabeth will at least have had time to gather her thoughts together and to have examined her feelings.”

  It was less than ideal, when Sterling wanted nothing more than to see Elizabeth again. To apologize. To grovel, if necessary.

  But he also knew Grace Montrose, having been the adopted daughter of a village parson and that gentleman’s helpmate for several years after her mother died, probably knew far better than he did how Elizabeth was feeling.

  “I will take your advice and wait before I visit Elizabeth. But only for one day,” he added decisively.

  “Perfect,” the duchess approved. “And when you do see her, could you please ask her if I might be allowed to call upon her once she is feeling up to receiving more visitors?”

  “After which, we shall invite both of you to dinner, along with the Prince Regent,” Melborne added briskly.

  Sterling felt a warmth of emotion in his chest, knowing that a dinner invitation from the Duke and Duchess of Melborne, with Prinny also present, would act as a social statement to all in Society of their approval of Lady Elizabeth Marshall.

  “But for goodness’ sake, make sure the first thing you tell her is what you were doing in Cornwall in the first place,” the duchess cautioned.

  “It will be the worse for you if you do not,” Melborne added knowingly.

  Sterling nodded. He knew how much trouble Melborne’s and Flint’s initial lack of honesty on that subject had caused between them and their future duchesses.

  Whether Elizabeth wished to hear it or not, Sterling intended telling her the whole truth.

  Including that he loved her.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It felt strange to Elizabeth to be back in her childhood home and occupying the same small bedroom for the past two nights that had been hers through childhood. A small bed for Christopher had been brought in and placed in the corner of the room. Peggy and Mary were sharing one of the servants’ rooms in the attic.

  So much had happened to Elizabeth since she lived here with her parents and younger sisters. Her elopement. Her years of marriage. The birth of her son. Thomas’s death. This past ten months of widowhood under the roof of her begrudging and vicious father-in-law.

  Even when in the company of her mother, the two of them seated together in the small family sitting room, Elizabeth still felt a shiver of apprehension and fear run the length of her spine merely thinking of Whitlow.

  The five days of travel by coach had been every bit as uncomfortable as Elizabeth had suspected they might, and she had fallen exhausted into a bed at an inn every night.

  And for each mile they traveled and each night they rested, Elizabeth had feared the Earl of Whitlow catching up with them and demanding she return to Whitlow Grange, where she would once again become his prisoner. Starved of both affection and sustenance.

  Worse, she had feared that Sterling might feel obligated to follow her.

  In the same way he believed she had felt obligated to make love to him, out of gratitude for his having offered her and her servants refuge from the Earl of Whitlow!

  It still pierced her heart to think of Sterling saying those cruel words. In truth, it hurt far worse to think of that than it did to remember the earl’s many cruelties.

  The lovemaking between herself and Sterling had been…magical, so very erotic, and more arousing and satisfying than anything Elizabeth had ever experienced before.

  As she had told Bristol, she did not consider that as being in the least disloyal to Thomas or their marriage bed. They had both been very young when they married, almost shy in their intimacies, and being in the army, Thomas had also been away fighting for months at a time during their short marriage. A circumstance which had not allowed them to build up that ease of intimacy that came in a marriage of longevity and a daily closeness, like that of her parents.

  Sterling was neither young nor shy. He was an older and experienced gentleman who had tacitly asked for her permission to deepen their intimacies and then forged ahead with taking them, and Elizabeth, once she gave her permission.

  Elizabeth still blushed to think of how Sterling had touched and kissed her so intimately, giving her unimagined pleasure—

  “The Duke of Bristol is here to see Lady Marshall, my lady,” Riggs, her parents’ butler, announced from the doorway of the sitting room.

  As if Elizabeth’s thoughts of Sterling had conjured him into being!

  “Do you wish to see Bristol?” her mother prompted, aware of Elizabeth’s current aversion to receiving any visitors.

  Her smile was rueful. “If I do not agree to do so, I have every reason to believe that gentleman will simply demand admittance and barge his way in here.”

  Her mother placed her sewing down on the stool beside her. “We are very grateful for the duke’s assistance in helping you escape the abuse you suffered in your father-in-law’s household, and I am sure your father will wish to thank him for it. But surely Bristol will understand if your father also explains you are not currently feeling up to receiving visitors?”

  Her father had done that several times already, both yesterday and again this morning, after several society ladies had called to see her.

  Because none of those ladies were close friends of hers, neither Elizabeth nor her parents were under the illusion they wanted anything more than to satisfy their curiosity as to why Elizabeth had returned to London so suddenly.

  Those ladies had all, even if in a somewhat disgruntled fashion, according to her father, accepted that Elizabeth was resting and so unavailable to receive visitors.

  She knew Bristol would never accept those reasons, but would see them for the dismissal they were.

  “I sincerely doubt that, Mama,” Elizabeth stated ruefully. “Do not look so worried. I am sure the duke is only here to reassure himself I have arrived safely back in London.” And perhaps to rebuke her for her hurried and ungrateful departure from Cornwall a week ago.

  But her mother didn’t need to hear that. Indeed, Elizabeth had decided that neither of her parents needed to know any more about the events in Cornwall other than the Duke of Bristol was responsible for making it possible for her to escape the Earl of Whitlow’s cruelties to her.

  Her parents had only needed to take one look at the now-fading yellow and black bruises on Elizabeth’s face and arms to accept that explanation. They had also expressed their horror, and gently rebuked Elizabeth for not having confided in them before now of the earl’s brutality toward her.

  “Please show His Grace into the pink salon.” She had no doubt that the duke would be horrified by the pink-and-cream décor in her parents’ main drawing room. With three women still in the house, her father’s preference in colors had stood little chance of being taken into consideration. “Tell him I will join him momentarily.” Once she had checked and tidied her appearance.

  The last thing Elizabeth wanted was to appear less than completely calm and composed when she saw Sterling again.

  Sterling was standing beside the window, looking out into the wilderness of the Ameses’ garden, when a movement of the air behind him and the tensing of every muscle in his body told him that Elizabeth had entered the room.

  He turned quickly, relieved to see that most of the bruising had faded from the pale delicacy of her skin. She also appeared more composed and at ease in her parents’ home, in a gray gown of brushed silk, and with none of those disturbing shadows present in or beneath her beautiful violet eyes.

  Eyes which avoided meeting his as she made a curtsey. “Your Grace.”

  “Elizabeth.” He refused to allow her to treat him as a mere social acquaintance.

  She glanced up at him and then away again. “I apologize for the décor in this room. Unfortunately, my mother allowed my two younger sisters to choose the colors,” she added with that same indulgence.

  Sterling glanced about him, having been too preoccupied when he arrived to notice the shocking predominance of pink in the room. “That is their prerogative.”

  Elizabeth smiled slightly at his guarded reply before sobering. “I hope the groom I borrowed to drive my carriage back to London has returned safety to your household?”

  “He has.” At which point, Sterling had quizzed the other man mercilessly for every detail of Elizabeth’s journey from Cornwall.

  They had indeed taken a circuitous route back to London. One Sterling assumed had been taken in case the Earl of Whitlow decided to pursue Elizabeth. And, he had also been forced to acknowledge, possibly in case he had followed her.

  “I trust Jimmy is now back with you?” he added lightly.

  “He is, thank you.”

  Sterling had done as the Duchess of Melborne suggested and left it another day before calling upon Elizabeth. During that time, he had arranged for Jimmy to take himself to the Ameses and made himself available as a groom to Elizabeth once again. It would serve to alert her to the fact Sterling had also returned to London.

  He hadn’t even been sure she would receive him when he called, but now that he was with her again, could look at her, breathe in Elizabeth’s unique and alluring perfume, he desperately wanted to once again hold her in his arms. To apologize to her, on his knees, if necessary. He so desperately needed to kiss her. To tell her how much he loved her.

  Except Melborne’s duchess had warned he should first explain about Plymouth’s murder and his own part in hunting for his friend’s killer before attempting to tell Elizabeth how he felt about her.

  “I have been advised, before I do anything else, that I must tell you the reason for my having gone to Cornwall in the first place,” he stated.

  Elizabeth eyed him warily. “Advised by whom…?”

  “The Duchess of Melborne.”

  She appeared shocked. “You have…discussed me, with the Duchess of Melborne?”

  “No! Well. Not exactly.” Sterling winced. “I was actually in conversation with her husband when the duchess arrived home from shopping.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes now widened incredulously. “You were talking to the Duke of Melborne about me when his wife arrived home and decided to join in the conversation?”

  Sterling didn’t like the storm he could see brewing in those beautiful violet eyes. “I was discussing the situation with Melborne, and the reason for my going to Cornwall,” he hastily explained. “Have you heard of the six Ruthless Dukes?” he continued before that storm in her eyes had the chance to break and sweep aside all in its path. Including him.

  “I have, yes,” she answered tightly.

  “Then you also know that one of them, our friend Plymouth, did not return from the battle at Waterloo?”

  She nodded. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “What most people do not know is that he was murdered. By one of five English officers also present that day. The five remaining dukes only learned of this very recently, and since then, we have each investigated one of those officers in the hope of finding the murderer.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “An English officer killed the Duke of Plymouth?” she repeated slowly.

  Sterling nodded. “One of five. Your deceased husband was amongst them.”

  Elizabeth stared at the duke without speaking for fully a minute. Initially out of shock at learning such a thing could have happened, followed by disbelief when Bristol stated Thomas was one of the five officers suspected of carrying out the crime.

  “Two of the Ruthless Dukes have already cleared two of those officers of any wrongdoing,” he continued. “I was assigned to investigate whether your husband was responsible.”

  “He was not,” Elizabeth denied without hesitation. “Thomas would never have done such a thing. Never,” she repeated for emphasis. “Do not ask me how it is possible when he had such a father, but Thomas was the kindest and gentlest man you could ever wish to meet.” She lifted her chin. “He was incapable of committing murder.”

  “He was a soldier, and we all killed when we had to,” Sterling reminded softly.

  She widened her eyes. “But not in cold blood. Besides, what possible reason could Thomas have had for doing such a thing?”

  The duke shrugged. “The receipt of remuneration for having carried out the deed appears to be the obvious motive.”

  Indignant color warmed her cheeks. “We might not possess anything like the obvious wealth of you and all your ducal friends, but neither are we paupers. Thomas would never have accepted money to kill an innocent person.” She frowned. “Do you know who this person is who paid for someone else to carry out such a heinous crime?”

  Bristol shrugged. “We still do not know their identity either.”

  She gave a disgusted snort. “You prefer instead to go around throwing out wild accusations about someone who is no longer alive to defend himself.”

  “No—”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth snapped. “Next you will be adding to your recent insults to me by accusing me of having made love with you to divert your attention away from Thomas being guilty of murdering your friend.”