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But as he escorted Elizabeth down the hallway to that formal room, held back the chair for her himself, and then pushed it forward as she became seated, Sterling found himself cursing the fact that she was sitting so far away from him. The two men were sitting at either end of the twelve-foot-long table, with Elizabeth placed exactly in the middle on Sterling’s right side, as was fitting for a female acquaintance.
Except the very last thing Sterling wished to look at all evening was the Earl of Whitlow.
Unfortunately, good manners dictated that he must at least try to make conversation with the other man. Which he painstakingly did, on the subjects of horseflesh, the unseasonable weather, and their neighboring estates.
The fact that Whitlow slurped and smacked his lips noisily through the soup course, then spoke with his mouth full when they moved on to the fish—having belched and farted his way through both without apology—made it extremely difficult for Sterling to keep up that politeness.
In between that eating and slurping, the earl made constant comments to Elizabeth cautioning her on how much she ate as she was in danger of becoming fat.
Sterling had never heard such nonsense, and he pitied Elizabeth for having to live in the same house and eat her meals with this abominable creature. It was obvious, despite the earl’s comments regarding Elizabeth’s family, she was by far the better mannered of the two.
Sterling was feeling slightly ill from being unable to completely avoid seeing Whitlow’s yellowed teeth—the few that he had—masticate each mouthful of food from the huge pile he had asked to be served to him as Rogers circled the table with each of the meats and vegetables which had followed the fish.
In contrast, Elizabeth ate sparingly and never quite finished any of those tiny portions.
Sterling leaned forward slightly to gain her attention. “I believe you will enjoy the dessert I have chosen for us.”
“I don’t like or eat puddings,” the earl answered before Elizabeth was able to do so.
Sterling narrowed his eyes as he looked down the table at the other man. “In that case, you are at liberty to retire to the library and partake of brandy and cigars whilst Lady Elizabeth and I enjoy ours.” He couldn’t quite manage to hide the edge of impatience in his voice.
Because, quite frankly, after spending two hours in the man’s obnoxious company, Sterling didn’t give a damn what Whitlow did or did notlike.
Nor did he care whether it was altogether proper for him and Elizabeth to be left alone together in the dining room.
Elizabeth held her breath as she waited for the earl to answer the duke, knowing her father-in-law would be torn between the impropriety of leaving his widowed daughter-in-law alone in the company of a single gentleman and the possibility of what might transpire, hopefully in his favor, by his doing so. Especially when that gentleman was a duke.
It seemed speculation won out over impropriety, as the earl threw his soiled napkin onto the table and rose noisily to his feet. “Do you keep any interesting picture books in your library, Bristol?” he prompted suggestively.
Elizabeth was at a loss as to know what he meant until she saw the lecherous gleam in the earl’s eyes and the lascivious way in which he ran his moist tongue between fleshy lips. She immediately felt the heat of embarrassment enter her cheeks.
The duke frowned as he looked down his nose at the older man. “I am not in the habit of keeping pornographic pictures in any of my libraries.”
“Then where do you keep them?” Whitlow prompted curiously.
The duke’s brow lowered even further. “I do not own any pornographic pictures. And neither should you,” he added in disapproval, “when you regularly have a small child residing in one of your homes.”
Elizabeth felt a warmth of gratitude that Bristol had chastised her father-in-law on this subject. She knew her own disapproval would have been met with curses and dismissal.
“Nor should you be discussing such a subject in front of a lady.” Bristol gave Elizabeth a tight and apologetic smile as he continued to criticize the older man.
The earl snorted. “Show me the lady, and I might consider not doing so.”
The duke’s nostrils flared, his pale gaze becoming flinty. The twitching of his facial muscles and thinned lips seemed to imply he was in the throes of an inner battle with himself as he decided whether or not he should upbraid the Earl of Whitlow and eject the older man from his home.
Elizabeth wondered if that dilemma might exist inside Bristol, because he knew if he asked the earl to leave, then she would have to go with him.
She immediately chastised herself for making too much of the kindness the duke had so far shown her. He did not know her, and she did not know him, and there was every reason to think the two of them would never meet socially again after this evening. As such, Bristol could have no reason to base any of his decisions upon whether or not they might affect her.
However, that warning to herself did not stop her thoughts from wandering, to imagining what it would be like to be desired by such a gentleman.
The Duke of Bristol was not only devilishly handsome, but he seemed to be romantically regal as he sat at the head of the table. The candlelight gave a midnight sheen to the darkness of his hair, the harshness of his patrician features appearing as if carved from alabaster.
Those pale green eyes now met hers in what seemed like apology before he returned his attention to the earl. “I believe, for arts’ sake, you might find an original copy of the Kama Sutra by Vatsyayana on the top shelf of the third bookcase.”
“For arts’ sake, aye?” the other man taunted knowingly.
Bristol nodded stiffly. “Lady Elizabeth and I will join you in the library when we have finished our dessert.”
