Page 67 of Deceiving an Earl
A few months later she’d realized she was with child and she’d hoped and prayed it was Arthur’s son. The following months had been torturous, not knowing who the father of her child was.
Ellen could pinpoint the exact moment she knew that Philip was Oliver’s. He’d been a year and a half, and he was on the floor playing with his toys when the sun hit him just right, and in his profile Ellen saw a younger version of Oliver. The tilt of his chin was reminiscent of his real father. His hair was darker, but it curled above his ears just like Oliver’s did when he’d worn it longer.
And that had started a new, deeper, desperate fear that others would see what she had. But as time went on and Oliver had kept his distance and it became clear to her that her secret was not written on her forehead or her son’s, she’d relaxed.
Arthur had doted on Philip and had worshipped the boy to no end. Philip had been the sun and the moon to Arthur, and the guilt had returned for the deception she’d been living. The lie that would have killed Arthur if he’d known.
And that’s how Ellen learned to live in constant, silent fear.
“My lady.”
Ellen’s head popped up. She’d been so deep in reminiscing that she hadn’t heard the butler enter.
“Sir William Needham to see you, my lady.”
Ellen’s breath caught in her throat, and a need to flee overtook her. William had said he would give her time, but he was here already? Surely he didn’t want an answer now.
“Send him in,” she said.
She stood to smooth her skirts and pat her hair to make sure it was all in place while her heart hammered.
William entered and smiled at her as he took her hand and kissed it. “I know I said I would give you time, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I just had to see you.”
She hoped her smile didn’t tremble as much as her insides did. “Tea, please,” she said to the hovering maid.
William led her to the couch and waited for her to sit before he did.
“I trust you slept well last night.”
“I did.”
“I was between patients this morning and knew that I had to see you.”
“William, I…” She’d thought about his proposal all night. His words had kept her awake but not in excitement or joy. She’d thought of his attitude during the dinner and the cutting words he had spoken to her, and then she’d thought of his bizarre marriage proposal where he’d not spoken one word of his feelings toward her but rather how she would benefit him if they wed.
Oliver’s arrival this morning had convinced her that she could not marry William.
Not that she would ever marry Oliver. On the contrary. She could never live with herself and the secret she must keep while seeing Oliver day in and day out. No, she could never have Oliver.
But just knowing what kind of life she could have had with him ruined her for any other man.
William felt no passion for her. There was no excitement when they were together. She could never imagine William taking her against the side of a house, while people danced and socialized just feet away from them.
“Have you given any thought to what we discussed last night?” William asked.
“Much,” she admitted.
His face lit up, and Ellen shifted to face him. “William, I can’t marry you. As much as you think we would suit, I disagree. I am not the wife you need for your practice. I socialize with the fringe of Society. I am friends with actresses, poets, novelists, and musicians.”
For a moment William was silent, and she could not read his expression. It was so difficult sometimes to determine what he was thinking.
“In time, people will forget your bohemian ways,” William said.
“Forget them?”
“Of course you would have to give up your salons. It’s quite inappropriate for my standing in Society. But we can attend the opera and you can see your friends from afar.”
She drew back, astounded that he would even think that she would give up her friends for him.
