Whitlow’s complexion had gone from the color of beetroot to a sickening gray. “Hide?” he repeated skeptically.

  “Yes.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Sterling breathed heavily through his nose. “Not only have you badly treated both Elizabeth and her maid, but it is obvious from your previous smug expression that you do not have the slightest idea that neither of those two ladies, nor Elizabeth’s son and his nursemaid, are no longer resident in your household. I have taken one of your grooms into my employ too.” Young Jimmy was currently riding back to London on his way to delivering the letters Sterling had written last night.

  “Elizabeth is upstairs—”

  “She is with me, at Bristol Manor.” Sterling wished that were true, but he believed, after their earlier conversation, that Elizabeth would ensure they were never alone together again, let alone be intimate with each other.

  The older man appeared disconcerted for several seconds before he gave a dismissive shake of his head. “Elizabeth would never dare to arouse my ire by doing such a thing.” He reached out to tug on the bell pull that would bring the butler into the room.

  Sterling gave the older man a pitying glance. “I fear you are several hours too late to be able to check on the welfare of your daughter-in-law, if that is your intention.”

  The earl turned to the butler as he quietly entered the room. “Go up to Lady Marshall’s rooms and tell her I require her presence downstairs. Immediately,” he added sharply.

  Sterling waited until the butler had departed before continuing. “Elizabeth and her son and servants arrived at Bristol Manor during the night. She has since been examined by the local doctor, and he believes she is only severely bruised and there are no broken bones or internal injuries from her fall.” His jaw tightened. “But that is absolutely no thanks to you.”

  “God, you’re such an arrogant prick,” Whitlow sneered. “Standing there, looking down your nose at me, when you’ve been lusting after Elizabeth like she’s a bitch in heat since the moment you first sniffed her.”

  “I advise you to stop now,” Sterling cut in coldly. “Before I am forced to physically make you do so.” That the older man was correct in his crude summation did not lessen the need Sterling felt to place his hands around the other man’s throat and squeeze the very life out of him.

  Whitlow gave him a scornful glance. “If Elizabeth spent the night in your house, and I am still not convinced that is the case, then her reputation has been compromised. As a consequence, I will demand you make her an offer of marriage.” Triumph glittered briefly in the other man’s gaze.

  “An offer she would refuse,” Sterling answered with certainty. “Elizabeth was forced to flee this household because of your cruelties to her. Abuse about which I have already written to the Prince Regent, explaining what Elizabeth suffered through. I have also informed several of my closest friends of the same. All of them dukes, all of them infinitely more powerful than you will ever be. Do not even think about intercepting my envoy,” he warned the moment he saw the calculating glitter appear in the earl’s gaze. “He left during the night and will reach London far ahead of you or anyone else you might care to send after him.” As an added precaution, Sterling had given Jimmy instructions of a route which was not usually frequented by other travelers to or from London.

  “You— Yes?” Whitlow snapped at the butler as he returned to stand in the doorway.

  “I have looked everywhere, my lord, but I cannot find Lady Marshall or Master Christopher, nor her maid and the nursemaid, anywhere in the house.”

  “You fucking bastard!” the earl shouted fiercely.

  “He is talking to me, not you,” Sterling reassured the obviously startled butler. “But I seriously suggest that you look into seeking employment elsewhere,” he added conversationally. “I advise all the servants here look for employment elsewhere, unless they wish it to be known they are working for a rapist and an attempted murderer.”

  The butler looked even more stunned. “Your Grace?” he answered Sterling while giving the earl a sideways glance.

  Sterling believed it telling that the man didn’t immediately jump to the defense of his employer.

  “Get out,” the earl shouted at the butler, waiting until he had reluctantly done so before turning back to Sterling. “You cannot expect to get away with making these wild accusations, Bristol,” he threatened. “If you do, I will simply tell them you have been fucking Elizabeth—”

  Sterling’s fist shot out instinctively, the noise as it made contact with the earl’s nose and the gush of blood which followed as the earl staggered and then fell on his backside telling him that the appendage was broken.

  Sterling stood over the older man, looking down at him. “If you are wise, you will not even attempt to get up again until after I have left.”

  Whitlow held a hand up beneath his profusely bleeding nose. “Bastard!”

  He gave an unconcerned shrug. “I advise you do not return to London, but instead make some sort of life for yourself down here. But be aware that even if you stay here, I intend to have your behavior monitored and watched in future.”

  He had brought two of Stanley’s associates with him to Cornwall and fully intended leaving them here. He could see about hiring more permanent watchdogs, who had no problem living in Cornwall, once he was back in London.

  “I shall be returning to London myself shortly, and Elizabeth will travel with me,” he continued. “But if there is the slightest indication you are sexually molesting any more unwilling young ladies, or have attempted to bully or harm Elizabeth from afar, you will suffer the consequences.”

  Whitlow wisely remained on the floor, his attempts to stop the flow of blood from his nose proving futile as it dripped down his linen shirt and waistcoat. “What consequences?”

  Sterling’s smile was predatory. “I have always thought it better to leave some things unsaid. That anticipation of a deed, good or bad, can bring about its own satisfaction.”

  “You cannot just take my daughter-in-law and grandson into your household without expecting some form of protest or retribution from me!” the older man blustered.

  “I believe I have stated exactly why I can, and have, done exactly that,” he dismissed. “Now, if you will excuse me, Elizabeth is waiting for me to join her for luncheon at Bristol Manor.” Sterling doubted that to be true, in view of her health and the way the two of them had parted earlier, but Whitlow didn’t know that.

  Besides, Sterling really couldn’t remain in the company of this disgusting man a moment longer.

  Except, once he returned to Bristol Manor, it was to learn that Elizabeth, her son, and her two servants, plus one of Sterling’s own grooms—no doubt needed to drive the Whitlow carriage, which was missing from the stables—were gone.

  “—never have agreed to let you travel in your condition,” Peggy muttered as she sat in the same Whitlow carriage they had originally taken from the earl’s stable the previous night.

  Elizabeth gave a wince as she tried to find a comfortable position on the bench seat opposite her maid. “I do not believe I asked for permission,” she teased lightly, well aware she could not have managed without Peggy these past few days. “Anyway”—she sobered—“it was no longer agreeable for me to accept the duke’s hospitality.”

  “Why not?”

  Because Elizabeth had committed the folly of falling in love him!

  Because she had made love with him.

  Because afterward, Sterling had reduced that lovemaking to nothing more than gratitude on her part, as reparation for his giving all of them refuge at Bristol Manor.

  She had felt the only response to such an unfair and untruthful accusation was to remove herself and the other members of her household from the duke’s estate.

  Which she’d done the moment Peggy informed her she’d seen Bristol leaving the estate on horseback.

  To go where, Elizabeth had no idea. She only knew that the duke’s absence gave them the perfect opportunity to leave before he returned.

  They had necessarily borrowed the services of one of the duke’s grooms, but only until they reached London, when he would be able to return to the duke’s household.

  Except the doctor’s medication was nowhere near strong enough to dull all the pain, and the journey was proving more troublesome to Elizabeth the more miles the carriage traveled on the often uneven and rutted roads.

  But she would withstand it.

  The alternatives, return to Whitlow Grange and the cruelty of her father-in-law or remain at Bristol Manor with Sterling believing she had only made love with him as payment for his kindness for offering them shelter, were unacceptable.

  She would remain strong enough to withstand the journey back to London.

  She must.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Grace is not going to be best pleased if you wear a hole in the new rug she only recently had installed in my study,” Alaric Montrose, the Duke of Melborne, stated wryly as he sat behind his huge mahogany desk.

  Sterling ignored the comment to continue his pacing on the predominantly dark green Aubusson carpet. “Whilst I respect and admire your duchess, I am afraid sitting still is currently impossible for me.” More so because he had first spent four days riding to London on horseback, then the following day instructing James Stanley to look deeper into the Earl of Whitlow’s affairs and that of his son, before commencing his search for Elizabeth.

  A search that had proved futile.

  It seemed that Elizabeth had either not had time to return to London as yet—traveling by carriage would take far longer than his own journey on horseback—or London had never been her destination in the first place.

  Either way, Elizabeth was not at any of the obvious places Sterling had so far looked for her, such as Whitlow House or her parents’ London home.

  He had thought that coming here today and telling Melborne of the events of the time he had spent in Cornwall, of confiding the things he had said to Elizabeth during their last conversation, might help to dispel some of his own feelings of helplessness. It had not. Not because Melborne had made any disapproving remarks after the telling, but because the other man had as yet made no comment on the situation at all.

  “By the way, the groom, Jimmy, is in my stables,” Melborne assured.

  “Thank you.”

  “I can confirm that I delivered your letter to the Prince Regent, informing him of Whitlow’s treatment of his daughter-in-law. He is most displeased.”

  “Good.”

  “The other Ruthless Dukes and I also received and read the letters you sent to us.”

  “Excellent.”

  “As a result, we have ensured that those important in Society now know of Whitlow’s deplorable behavior toward his daughter-in-law. The man is never allowed to darken any respectable person’s door or dinner table ever again.”

  “That is good.”

  “Last night, we all stripped naked and ran about Regent’s Park at midnight.”

  “Very well.”

  “Sterling.”

  His head rose sharply as he looked at the other man. The five remaining Ruthless Dukes might all be close friends, but it was rare for any of the other four gentlemen to call him by his first name rather than his title.

  Melborne grimaced. “I know from your lack of response to my last ridiculous comment that you are not listening to me. I also too easily recognize that look of anguish upon your face. God knows I more often than not bore that same expression before Grace put me out of my misery and assured me, despite my stupidity, she returned my love for her.”

  Sterling’s throat moved as he swallowed. “Elizabeth left Bristol Manor so that she did not have to see me again.”

  His shock upon discovering she had left the estate during his visit to Whitlow had been extreme. So much so that he had instantly informed his valet he was leaving, and had asked that gentleman to pack up their belongings and follow after him, before he then returned outside to leap astride his still-saddled horse. He had hoped he might catch up with Elizabeth’s carriage before too long, but that had not been the case. Whatever route she had taken back to London, it was not the same one as Sterling.

  Melborne stood to pour brandy from the cut glass decanter on a side dresser into two matching glasses before handing one to Sterling. “But you are in love with her?”

  He drew in a deep breath. “I am.” He was in absolutely no doubt that was the case after the agonizing heartache of these past five days and nights of wondering where she was and if she was safe and well.

  “You’ve barely been gone two weeks, must only have been in Cornwall itself for a matter of a few days,” his friend remarked speculatively.

  “I fell in love with Elizabeth the first time I looked into her violet-colored eyes.” Sterling knew he spoke the absolute truth. That he had not had a thought that was not about Elizabeth since he first saw her on the street in Crawtock eight days ago.

  “And yet you still spoke to her in such a hurtful manner after the two of you had made love,” Melborne chided.

  He swallowed, realizing now that a gentleman would not have told Melborne of the full circumstances and details of that conversation. “I did so because I did not wish, if it should be the case, for Elizabeth to continue to feel obligated to—to satisfy my obvious desire for her. Or for her to do so out of a sense of gratitude for my having offered her and her household refuge.”

  “Before you made those comments, had Lady Elizabeth said or done anything to indicate those were her feelings on the matter?”

  He winced. “No.”

  “Then why in God’s name—” Melborne broke off abruptly to release a long and steadying breath.

  “What other reason could Elizabeth have had to make love with me?” Sterling reasoned.

  “Perhaps because she returned your desire? Because she had fallen in love with you too?”

  “She had only known me for a few days.”

  “You had only known her for the same amount of time, and yet you have said you are in love with her.”

  “I am.” He sighed. “Deeply. Irrevocably.”

  Melborne gave a shake of his head. “There is a name for men like you.”

  He winced. “Bastard?”

  “No.”

  “Opportunist?”

  “I am certain the word you are searching for is idiot,” Melborne drawled.

  “What!” Sterling glared at his friend. “I have bared my soul to you in a way I have never done before with anyone, and the only thing you can do in return is to call me an idiot?”

  “Because that is what you have behaved as,” Melborne confirmed without apology. “Do not feel too bad about it. I have discovered that we men all behave in a completely idiotic manner once we have found the woman we truly care for. Look at Flint and myself.” He gave a self-derisive shake of his head. “We both behaved appallingly toward the women with whom we fell in love. Thank God Grace and Chastity saw fit to forgive us for our stupidity and married us.”

  Sterling dropped into the chair in front of the desk. “There is no chance of that happening between myself and Elizabeth.”

  More’s the pity.

  Because Sterling had not only fallen in love with Elizabeth in the short time the two of them had been together, but another part of his heart had cracked wide open the night he held young Christopher in his arms as they sat in vigil at his mother’s bedside. Christopher had felt so small and warm as he nestled against Sterling’s chest, so innocent as he put his complete trust in Sterling to protect and take care of both him and his mother.

  He had never known anything like those overwhelming feelings of protectiveness and affection brought about by Christopher’s complete trust of him.

  What did Christopher think of him now?

  What did Elizabeth think of him now?

  Sterling threw the brandy in his glass to the back of his throat, welcoming the burning sensation that followed. “I have to apologize for my behavior,” he stated vehemently. “To explain to her why I behaved in that way. To tell her that I never meant to insult or hurt her. That I am in love with her.”

  Melborne refilled their brandy glasses. “I believe you will need to find her first in order for you to be able to say any of that.”

  “Find whom?” Grace Montrose, the Duchess of Melborne, breezed into the study, crossing the room to kiss her husband warmly on the lips. Her small dog, Finn, had followed her into the room and was now making himself comfortable on the hearth between Melborne’s two Irish wolfhounds. The duchess turned to look at Sterling. “I was told you were in Cornwall on another of these discovering-who-was-responsible-for-killing-Plymouth missions being carried out by each of the Ruthless Dukes?”

  It didn’t surprise Sterling in the least that Melborne had confided in his wife with regard to their actions. Melborne now knew better than to keep secrets from his duchess. “I was,” he acknowledged morosely.

  The duchess, a beautiful auburn-haired lady with warm green eyes, tilted her head in query. “Have you returned because you have found the murderer?”

  “No.”

  “He has found something much more worrisome to any man,” Melborne drawled. “Love,” he added dryly as he resumed his seat behind the desk and pulled his wife down with him so that she was seated sideways upon his thighs.

  “Your sarcastic sense of humor has not improved these past weeks, despite all my efforts,” she admonished.

  Melborne grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

  “I do.” The couple shared a smile of deep intimacy before the duchess once again turned to Sterling. “Lord Thomas Marshall was not to blame for your friend’s death?”

  “He never got as far as broaching the subject with Marshall’s widow.” Melborne’s humor, at Sterling’s expense, was very obvious. “He was far too busy admiring that lady’s violet-colored eyes and falling in love with her.”