Page 63 of Deceiving an Earl
Her eyes were so large and luminous and dark when she looked at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying. We’ve waited our whole lives for this.”
“No. You don’t know.”
“Idoknow.”
She swallowed and looked away. “Is that why you are here? To bully me?”
“Is that what you think of me, Ellen? I’m a bully? That hurts, because I think you know I would never intentionally hurt you.”
She looked away. “I know. I’m sorry.”
They were talking in circles, and he was upsetting her.
“I came to see you, but I also came to see Philip.”
Her head jerked back to him. “Why do you want to see Philip?”
“Because I promised the headmaster that I would turn the boy around, and I plan to keep my promise.”
“This isn’t such a good idea anymore. I will think of another way.”
“Are you going to convince the headmaster that your son has changed his ways and is ready to conform to Eton standards? Can you promise that there will be no more fighting? No more…linen closet escapades?”
She paled. “I’ll find another way.”
He stood and stepped closer to her, touching her cheek with his finger. “Where is the Ellen from last night? The Ellen who fell apart in my arms?”
She put her palm over his hand. “She’s gone, Oliver. That was the Ellen of our past. This Ellen knows that what we had then can’t be repeated now. You need to understand and accept it.”
He let his hand drop, angry that she didn’t believe in them—in him. “Never. I’ll never accept it because I know what last night meant to both of us. I’m a patient man, Ellen. I won’t give up so easily. Now, I made a promise to the headmaster, and I plan to keep it. Where is the boy?”
She looked like she wanted to say more but instead she said, “He’s sleeping.”
“Then get him up. We have work to do.”
And still she hesitated. “He was out late last night.”
Oliver stepped toward the door.
“What are you doing?”
“I will wake him.” What in the hell was wrong with that boy? Making his mother worry all night long. That was the weariness he saw on her face, and he didn’t like it one bit.
He headed out of the parlor and toward the stairs that led to the private rooms. Ellen hurried after him.
“Oliver, no. Wait. You can’t go up there.”
But he was taking the steps two at a time and she was trying to catch up to him. When he reached the top he waited for her.
“Which room is his?” He couldn’t remember from the night he’d brought Philip home from Scotland Yard.
He opened the door she pointed to and stepped in, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving Ellen out in the hall.
Philip jerked awake. He was still in his trousers from the night before, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned. His shoes lay haphazardly in a pile at the foot of the bed.
“Wha—” Philip rubbed his eyes and peered into the murky shadows as Oliver whipped open the curtains and let the sunlight flood in.
