Page 109 of Deceiving an Earl
But none of that mattered, because being with Ellen, marrying Ellen, was more important than anything else. They would figure the rest out later.
He pulled the curricle under the tree in Hyde Park where he’d first kissed her. Strangely, he was calm. He’d thought he would be nervous to be taking such a huge step in his life, but that wasn’t the case at all.
This was right. It felt right. And he couldn’t wait to start his life with Ellen.
He’d arrived early so he sat back in the curricle and looked out over the pond. Hyde Park was quiet at this time of night, which had been his hope. No use getting the tongues wagging before they even left London.
He wasn’t even that angry that it had come to this—running away in the middle of the night. He was disappointed that he’d been called away and hadn’t been able to speak to her father before the betrothal contract with Fieldhurst. And he wondered how Fieldhurst would take the news that his betrothed had run off. If it were Oliver, he would be furious.
He pulled out the pocket watch that his parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday. It was midnight exactly. Heart leaping, he straightened up and looked around. There were no shadows running toward him or lurking about, so he settled back down.
By fifteen after the hour he was becoming anxious.
By half after he was nervous.
By one o’clock he was scared.
What if something had happened to her? He decided to trace the route she would have used to get to him, but there were no bodies lying about and nothing out of the ordinary. He stopped in front of her darkened, quiet house and contemplated throwing stones at her window. But he didn’t know which window was hers.
He drove back to the tree and waited until the subtle rays of a new day lightened the sky. And still no Ellen.
As traffic increased in Hyde Park he took up the reins and drove home, confused.
Once in his bedroom he found a folded piece of paper on his pillow, and he picked it up. In elegant, feminine handwriting it said:I’m sorry.
…
The three sat in silence, O’Leary and Ashland trying to absorb the story that Oliver had told them.
“This is not right,” Ashland muttered, shaking his head. Ashland understood Oliver’s feelings the most. He seemed pale and angry.
O’Leary appeared contemplative. “We can have him picked up,” he said. “If you’re positive it was him.”
“Oh, I’m positive,” Oliver said. “I didn’t see him myself, but all of the staff did, as well as Philip.”
“A boy’s word and the word of servants.” O’Leary shook his head. “I wish we had more to go on.”
“People heard him beating her!” Oliver was becoming outraged, and he knew he shouldn’t take it out on O’Leary. It was incredibly difficult to convict someone with as high a standing as Needham. The court, if it even got that far, was always in favor of the person with the power. While Philip was an earl, Needham was older and respected. He was a physician to the royal family, and that was something special, indeed. And Philip had his own problems and a soiled reputation.
“He’s already slithered out of one scandal,” Oliver said.
“With no proof that he knew what his assistants were doing, there wasn’t much we could do.” O’Leary was beginning to sound defensive.
“I’m not blaming you,” Oliver said, although his frustration was directed at O’Leary and the judicial system that let a man like Needham walk free simply because the word of a gentleman meant more than the word of a servant.
“What are you going to do?” Ashland asked.
“Take matters into my own hands,” Oliver said grimly.
“I would advise against that,” O’Leary said.
“As would I,” added Ashland. “Although I understand why you feel the need to do so.”
“I can’t let this go unanswered. Iwon’tlet this go unanswered.” He could not walk away from this if he tried, and damn he didn’t want to try, either.
“Will you confront him?” Ashland asked.
“Yes.” There was no doubt that he was going to confront Needham.
