Sterling was at an utter and complete loss. His wife seemed determined to resist him and any efforts he might put into reconciliation; however, rather than defeat him, he became all the more steadfast in his aim.
Trying to woo his wife became an obsession. He’d lie awake at night, alone in his cold bed, frustrated, trying to concoct ways to make the infuriating woman sleeping just on the other side of the wall happy.
Thus far, it seemed like the only thing that worked was his leaving her alone.
That, however, was most certainly not an option.
She drove him mad with everything she did, and it only spurred him on.
He’d never failed at anything before in his life, and he wasn’t about to allow that to happen now. Not when the stakes were so high. He knew he had to find just one chink in her armor, one crack in her facade, and he’d win.
He was sure of it.
One night, unable to sleep and too restless with nerves, he decided to do some research into his wife. Perhaps he might locate some clues into her mind—something that might help him finally make a slight bit of headway toward his goal.
Sterling slipped silently from the ducal chamber and made his way down the hall on practiced silent feet. No sound came from Alaina’s bedchamber as he passed by and turned, instead, for the adjoining room. The duchess’s private sitting room abutted her bedchamber and was connected by her dressing room. It was designed to allow the lady of the house to move with ease between her private rooms without having to fully dress if she did not wish to.
Pushing the dangerous thought of his half-naked wife aside, Sterling tried the polished brass knob to Alaina’s sitting room, but it was locked. No matter. He’d anticipated as much from the woman who wished to shut him out of her life.
He slipped a small leather case from his pocket and selected the proper silver tools before he crouched and went to work. It would have been far easier to use the key, but the only two copies remained in possession of Alaina and the housekeeper. It took him less than one minute to gain access to the room and slip inside. The skill he’d learned nearly a decade prior had come in handy on numerous occasions, but he’d never thought to employ his lockpicking skills in his own home.
He held still as a cat and allowed his eyes to adjust to the silver moonlight. He could make out the shapes of several tables and chairs, the bulbous, irregular forms of several vases filled with flowers—none of them roses, judging by the scent. The far corner held what he desired.
The delicate escritoire contained neat stacks of clean parchment, bottles of ink in several colors, a candle, and the implements necessary for her to seal her correspondence. He examined her neat, confident handwriting on what appeared to be a draft menu for when she would next host her Reading Society. A list of odd items filled another page: yards of fabric in plain colors, ink, chalk, parchment, and a variety of books ranging from didactic literature to fairytales. He saw no immediate value in the list, so he set it aside.
Another piece of parchment held a few lines of text to her mother, but it was riddled with lines and corrections before it was ultimately abandoned. He knew Alaina and the countess had never been close—had never shared the warm, comfortable relationship one might hope for between mother and child—and it appeared that hadn’t changed much in his absence. His heart lurched at the realization. A part of him had maintained hope that her family would rally around her after he left for the Continent, but this only confirmed his suspicions that that had not been the case. Likely, Brendt and his wife had been more concerned about saving face than comforting their daughter in her time of need. He cursed both them and himself for the selfish actions which had impacted Alaina so.
Setting the page aside, Sterling moved on to quietly opening and closing each of the dainty drawers in turn. Most of it was unremarkable and unhelpful…until he came to the largest drawer in the middle. The lock was engaged, but he made short work of it to discover it held a significant stack of envelopes. Careful to remain as silent as possible, he began flipping through them, peering inside at their contents whenever he was particularly intrigued. Titles, names, and dates flashed before his eyes.
And his jaw clenched so tightly it was a miracle he didn’t crack a tooth.
Each morning, Alainawoke with dread, wondering what surprise Sterling had in store for her that day. Up to that point, he’d been horribly off the mark, but he’d somehow managed to remain determinedly charming in his disappointment.
And, each day, Alaina was afraid that he might finally get something right and she’d be forced to admit as much. She could admit to herself that it was a ridiculous thing to be concerned about—having one’s husband make too sweet or thoughtful a gesture—but this was how things stood.
There was always such a hopeful gleam in his arresting eyes the moment before she crushed him, but he was persistent. She had to concede that point.
Each time she felt the slightest wavering of her resolve when faced with his handsome features and charm, she had to remind herself that this was still the same man who’d abandoned her and lived the extravagant life of an attractive, wealthy, titled bachelor on the Continent while she languished in loneliness in London. And then she’d set her jaw and pick up her manuscript to read through her parts to prepare for the next Reading Society gathering.
That morning, Alaina crept from her chambers, hoping to avoid an ambush of thoughtfulness while still bracing herself to find yet another surprise awaiting her. Instead, she found only Sterling seated at the table in the morning room, apparently waiting for her. He stood as soon as he heard her enter, but his determined joviality seemed to have dissipated. Where he’d developed a habit of greeting her with a heart-melting smile each morning, his face remained a cool, unreadable mask. The fact that he sat beside her in silence while her tea was poured and she settled in to break her fast was more than a little unnerving, even to a woman used to dining quietly.
She eyed him over the rim of her teacup, attempting to read his stony features to discern what had changed. Unfortunately, she was no longer as familiar with his expressions and moods as she’d once been, and the man he’d become was far more difficult to read than the newspaper he held before him.
She nearly jumped when those intense eyes of his found her watching him over the corner of his paper. Her heart raced unexpectedly, and she quickly snapped her gaze back to her plate. The last thing she wanted was for him to know how drawn she was to him.
Sterling folded and flicked the newspaper to the table. “What are your plans for today, wife?” he asked in a suspiciously even tone.
Feeling oddly cornered, Alaina was careful to present the same emotionless voice in her response. “Perhaps some shopping; I require a new pair of gloves. And the ladies of the Reading Society are coming over tomorrow afternoon for our gathering, so I will be meeting with Cook to plan some refreshments. We shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours in the front sitting room beginning at half-three.”
Sterling eyed her carefully, causing Alaina’s breath to catch in her throat. She had the distinct feeling she was being hunted, and she’d never felt more helpless.
“Perhaps,” he began in a low, dangerous tone; “you may wish to carve some time out today to handle your correspondence.”
She sat back in her chair. Now that was one of the least likely things she thought she would hear from his well-formed lips. “Whatever do you—”
Alaina’s mouth snapped shut when he pulled a large stack of bound envelopes in various shades of cream and white from between the pages of his newspaper and dropped them with a resounding thud on the table between them. She tried not to flinch.
Blast.
