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“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 bethe 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.
