Page 105 of Deceiving an Earl
Philip hesitated, looking between Ellen and William.
“It will be fine,” she said with a forced smile.
William started shifting from foot to foot.
Philip sidled past William, keeping a wary eye on him, and exited.
Ellen felt exposed and vulnerable alone in the room with William. Casually, she moved so that the width of the dining room table was between them.
William paced the length of the room, his fingers tap, tap, tapping on his thigh. She’d never seen him like this before.
He suddenly stopped and looked at her. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
She swallowed the bile that had crawled up her throat. “Find what out?”
“Don’t patronize me, Ellen. I know. I know everything. You can’t do anything without me knowing.”
She looked around as if there were eyes staring at her from every corner and through the windows. Had he bribed her servants? Did he have the house watched?
“He was here. Armbruster.”
She forced herself to visibly relax. “Yes, he was here. Philip had gone to him for some…help. And Oliver brought him back.”
William shook his head. “You lie.”
“I’m not lying. I promise you that was what happened. You can even ask him.” She despised herself for the pleading tone in her voice.
“Didn’t you hear me? I told you that I know everything. Did you think I would trust you?” He laughed, and the sound sent chills down her back.
He moved to the head of the table, where she had been sitting. Her dinner was still on the plate, untouched. William picked it up and hurled it at the wall. China shattered. Gravy dripped down the wall in grotesque globules. Ellen jumped and slid to the side, away from William, but in two strides he was beside her, grabbing her arm in a bruising grip that made her gasp.
“You defied my strict orders.”
“William, you’re hurting me.” She tried to tug away, but he merely tightened his grip, digging his fingers into her arm until she swore he was bending her bone.
His eyes were bloodshot, and fine tremors were coursing through him.
“I told you never to see him again.”
She lifted her chin, more angry than scared. How dare this man control her in such a way?
“He knows, William. He knows about Philip.”
William stilled, and his eyes narrowed.
“Youtoldhim?”
“No. He suspected. Just like you did, and he came to me and asked me to be honest with him, and I was.” She was lying, but she would do anything to get away from William. She couldn’t marry this monster. She couldn’t trust him with her life because she feared that someday he would kill her in a fit of rage.
How did no one see this side of him? How had she missed this part of him?
“You lying bitch.”
The punch came without warning, close-fisted and backed by the immense power of him. She was so stunned that she didn’t even have time to cry out. She reeled sideways, her hand going to her numb cheekbone. That punch was quickly followed by another, this one to her side, causing her to gasp and double over.
He pushed her and she fell, hitting her head on the edge of the table with a whack that vibrated through her entire body. For a moment she lay on the carpet she and Arthur had picked out together, stunned, blinking, unable to focus.
Through the haze of pain, she glimpsed William’s face, twisted in fury and something so terrifying that she couldn’t name it. He drew his leg back and kicked her in the stomach. She curled into a ball, covering her vulnerable midsection with crossed arms, but he kept raining kicks on her. Her thigh. Her hip. Her upper arm. Over and over he kicked her, and all she could do was roll into a tighter ball and protect herself as best she could.
