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The earl’s brows rose in surprise. “So soon?”
“Too soon?” Sterling challenged.
“Not at all.” Whitlow gave Elizabeth another of those sly glances. “I am sure we will both look forward to seeing you again tomorrow evening.”
Sterling could only hope that by accepting the dinner invitation so readily, he had shown the earl enough enthusiasm for more of Elizabeth’s company.
Enough, Sterling hoped, so as to save her from whatever punishment Whitlow intended inflicting upon Elizabeth for defying him in regard to the gown she wore this evening.
Sterling would much prefer she didn’t have to live in constant fear of incurring that bastard’s temper at all.
But, even though the desire between himself and Elizabeth was so very real, he knew she didn’t trust him with all her secrets yet.
Her distrust of him would be all the deeper if she knew the only reason Sterling had come to Cornwall was to discern whether or not her husband had been a murderer.
Ithadbeen Sterling’s only reason for being here, he inwardly corrected.
That had changed the first moment he had seen Elizabeth in the street earlier today.
“Send your maid to my bedchamber immediately,” the earl instructed Elizabeth harshly. The two of them had entered Whitlow Grange and were making their way up the stairs together.
The journey home had been made in complete silence, a relieved one on Elizabeth’s part, the earl seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. The butler had met them at the door and taken the earl’s cloak and hat, but had now retreated back to the servants’ quarters, having been dismissed for the night.
“Peggy…?” Elizabeth made no effort to hide her surprise at the earl’s request as she came to a halt at the top of the stairs.
“I believe that is the name of your maid, yes,” the earl sneered.
“What do you want with her?” she prompted sharply.
“The same as I have been taking from her this past year. The willing hole between her legs,” he added when Elizabeth remained puzzled.
She felt the color drain from her cheeks. “You and Peggy?” she pressed for clarity.
“Yes.” The earl snorted. “Do not look so shocked, daughter-in-law.”
She shook her head. “I cannot believe Peggy can be a willing participant.” The earl was neither handsome nor young, and Peggy was very pretty and not yet twenty.
“No?” Whitlow taunted. “Then you would be wrong.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “I do not believe you.”
The earl’s eyes glittered with fury. “I do not require that you believe or disbelieve, only that you do as you are told.”
Elizabeth was trembling inside even at the thought of defying her father-in-law, a man she knew to be cold and vicious. But neither could she see Peggy being bullied or forced into a relationship with a man so much older than her.
“I need to ask Peggy if she is agreeable—”
“You will do no such thing.” Whitlow’s voice thundered around the cavernous entrance hall.
“I must—” Elizabeth didn’t even see, let alone have time to prepare herself as the earl’s fist hit the side of her head.
The force of the blow overbalanced her, and she immediately reached out in a desperate attempt to grasp hold of Whitlow’s arm to stop herself from falling.
Her eyes widened in disbelief as, instead of helping her, he deliberately stepped back beyond that reach. There was an expression of deep satisfaction on his face as he watched her lose her footing and fall backward down the stairs.
CHAPTER SIX
Elizabeth hurt everywhere. More than she could ever remember hurting before. Not even Christopher’s birth had been this painful, and it had been a long and difficult one.
