Page 76 of Deceiving an Earl
Since Ellen’s engagement announcement to William, she’d felt bereft, as if the life had been sucked out of her. She didn’t want to marry William but had no choice. If she were completely honest, she feared him. He’d shown a side to her that she’d never seen before, and she was quite certain not many people saw that side. Everyone spoke very highly of William, so even if she were to voice her fears, no one would believe her.
It was either submit to his marriage proposal or her entire life and that of her son’s would crumble.
Her future was bleak, without hope.
She missed Oliver. She wanted to call him back, to ask for his help. To tell him that she had lied, that she did feel something for him.
It had taken everything in her to pretend that she didn’t care for him when he had come calling. She’d felt her own heart breaking as she’d witnessed his doing the same.
But she had to save her son. Everything was about Philip.
Philip entered her private sitting room.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said as he plopped down on her couch and negligently spread out on it.
He rarely visited her anymore. He was too busy going here and there, meeting his friends for nights out. There had been a time once when he’d spent his afternoons up here with her. Sometimes they’d talked but mostly they’d just been together. She’d handled her correspondence, he’d read his books. He’d liked to read back then. Now she didn’t know when last he’d picked up a book.
“I guess I don’t have much to say,” she said.
“You haven’t said anything about your engagement to Needham.” He saidNeedhamwith a sneer in his voice.
“Philip…” She couldn’t take his insolence. Not today when she was feeling so vulnerable.
He hesitated and for a moment she thought the new Philip, the disdainful Philip was back, but he seemed in a strange mood today, more like his old self. “Does he make you happy?”
She paused to gather her words, to try to sound convincing, but she was so weary, so heartsore that she feared she would fail to convince her son that she was happy. And he was the one person she must convince.
“Yes.” She couldn’t say more, for the words were stuck in her throat, and she prayed Philip would believe her. It was the only lie she’d ever told him. Besides who his real father was.
He studied her for a long time through the eyes of a man and not the little boy he had once been. She missed that little boy—with sticky hands, dirty knees, and uncombed hair.
“What about Armbruster?” he asked.
Oliver’s name was like a stab to her side, unexpected and painful.
“Wh-what about him?”
Philip looked down at his hands folded across his stomach, and suddenly the little boy was back for a fleeting moment. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you had feelings for him.”
“Oliver is an old friend, but that’s all we are. Just friends.”
Philip let the silence drag on between them while Ellen held her breath, her pain multiplying at the lies she kept telling. After all this time, she still had feelings for him, and she’d been afraid to admit it. Frightened of the consequences, because how could she spend the rest of her life with him with the knowledge that her son was their son?
“I didn’t think you were so serious with Needham,” Philip said, his gaze still locked on his hands.
“When you get older, you…settle…for comfort. I’m comfortable with William. I hope…that someday you will grow to like him.”
His gaze flashed to her, his eyes a stormy blue, so much like his father’s. “I don’t like him, Mother. There is something about him that I don’t like.”
“I’m sure with time—”
“I’m sure not.”
“Philip, if you’d just give him a chance.” She was pleading now, knowing that William had banished Philip from their lives anyway. But she couldn’t think about that, for she would fall apart contemplating life without Philip in it. She just wished he knew that everything she did was for him.
“I like Armbruster better.”
So do I.
