Page 33 of Deceiving an Earl
He shot a quelling look at the students, and the muttering immediately ceased. They would not question the freshness of the body, because that would mean questioning William, and that would mean being tossed from the program.
No one wanted to be tossed from the program.
“As you can see,” William began, “the deceased is a young man, possibly in his late teens.”
William continued cutting, and all else faded away until he was one with the body.
…
Ellen floated through the rooms, smiling and stopping to talk to people as she went, keeping a keen eye on the servants as they passed around drinks and food. Normally, she loved nights like this, but tonight things had been off.
She felt like a ghost, flitting about the crowd, no one really noticing her.
She’d been happy married to Arthur. They had loved each other in a comfortable, quiet kind of way. It had taken time, of course, and she’d had to put Oliver out of her mind, but Arthur had been kind and even somewhat grateful for his young wife. He’d treated her well, and she had done her duty by him, but beneath it all, she believed that there must be more to life.
She often remembered her conversation with Oliver over ices at Gunters. She’d never told anyone else what she’d told Oliver that day, about wanting to meet new and interesting people. Only he had known of her secret desire.
And eventually she had accomplished that. Her salons had taken time to grow, but eventually she’d found a group of people who had become her friends. A strange mixture of people with one thing in common—their open-mindedness and willingness to embrace diversity.
She’d friended the actresses, musicians, poets, and politicians. She’d hosted salons where the main purpose was to educate people on the arts. She’d made friends with people she’d never thought to make friends with, and she’d learned so much.
She’d finally felt like she’d landed where she was meant to be.
She’d been truly happy, for only the second time in her life. The first being her short time with Oliver.
And now, suddenly, there was a shadow over everything. Her happiness had dimmed, and she was inexplicably restless.
She glanced over her shoulder, a prickling running down her neck, to find Oliver on the other side of the room, standing alone, watching her. She suppressed a shiver and continued her circuit, aware that he was watching her.
William appeared beside her and put a hand on the small of her back. “A smashing success as usual,” he said as he smiled down on her.
She looked around the room at the artists that might never have mingled, if not for her, and felt a hollow sense of accomplishment.
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
“But you don’t have a drink in your hand.” He motioned for a servant and plucked a glass of champagne off the tray to hand to her. Absently, she took it from him but did not sip.
Oliver was watching them carefully, and it made her angry. What right did he have to come back into her life all these years later? What right did he have to upset the balance of everything? To make her feel out of sorts?
She paused. Is that what was happening? Was it Oliver who was making her feel suddenly restless?
His reemergence from her past had definitely made her anxious. She’d been happy to avoid him for all those years after she’d realized that the baby she’d given birth to was not her husband’s but her one-time lover’s. It was safer that way.
But now he was back and not only that, she had asked him to help her with Philip. Of all the stupid things she could have done. But she’d been desperate and out of options and Oliver had been so kind—with those blue eyes that were so much like his son’s—that she had pushed through all her misgivings and asked for his help.
And he’d not really been any help at all.
She turned her back on Oliver and let William lead her toward the music room where they were to hear the famous Abigail Betts sing. For a moment, they were alone in the room, and William turned to her.
“You seem out of sorts tonight.” He looked concerned, and it made her heart twist a bit. William was one of the most brilliant men she knew—the queen’s surgeon and one of the leading surgeons in London. She’d been in awe of his reputation and had foolishly invited him to one of her salons, thinking he would mix well with the others. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but eventually, they had become a couple. They’d never officially announced a courting, but it felt like it just the same. She’d not protested and sometimes she wondered why. She liked her new independence. She did not really want another man in her life, but William was here, and she’d not had the heart to send him away.
He took her to the theater and the opera and he attended her salons. She’d learned that he was actually very gifted with the violin and he’d play with some of the musicians that attended.
“I’m just worried about Philip,” she said.
William’s eyes darkened. William didn’t like Philip. He felt Philip needed more direction and more punishment. Philip thought William was a self-centered windbag. They avoided each other.
A servant approached and said something to William. His expression went grave, and he turned to Ellen. “I’m afraid I have to leave.”
