Page 79 of Deceiving an Earl
“It’s not that I’m unwilling to fulfill my promise, it’s just that—”
“My mother won’t let you. Why does she always ruin everything?” Philip spun on his heel and stomped out of the room.
Oliver hesitated, not knowing if he should follow. This really was not his business. This was Ellen’s son, and she had decided that Philip no longer needed Oliver’s services. He shouldn’t stick his nose in any of it.
Nevertheless, he followed Philip, but he was too late. The lad had left, slamming the front door behind him and leaving Oliver’s butler looking confused.
“He’s angry,” Oliver said.
“I see that,” his butler said.
Chapter Twenty-One
Oliver returned home three days after his father had promised. They had been gone for seven days, and each day away from Ellen had made him more anxious. He couldn’t help but have a feeling of dread, like everything they had promised each other was drifting away from them.
That type of thinking was ridiculous. He was delayed only three extra days.
He arrived home too late to go directly to Ellen’s father, so he was forced to wait another day. Exhausted, he fell into bed and slept like the dead.
The next morning he dressed carefully, nervous to meet her father. He’d never met Lord Hillgrave before. Ellen said he was a quiet man, reserved and stern.
Rehearsing his speech, he knocked on the Hillgrave’s door. He adjusted his cuffs and straightened his shoulders, his heart racing because Ellen was on the other side of that door. He’d missed her so much, but had also thrown his energy into learning everything his father was teaching him, because someday this knowledge would keep a roof over his wife’s head and food in her belly. He needed to learn to protect Ellen.
But when the butler opened the door, Oliver was informed that Lord Hillgrave was not available. When Oliver asked about Ellen, he was told the same thing.
Feeling like a fool, he stood on the steps of the Hillgrave’s townhouse, not granted entrance.
Confused, he returned home, determined to try the next day.
When he returned home he found a note from Ellen, and he began to feel alarmed. Something had happened. Something was wrong.
The next morning he was determined to try again. His mother was in the dining room, feeling well enough with her pregnancy to make her ungainly way down for breakfast. She was reading the newspaper and smiled up at him.
“Welcome back,” she said.
He grunted, nervous about being rejected again at the Hillgrave residence.
She went back to her newspaper while he tried to eat.
“So many engagements lately,” she said. “I guess it’s the season for such things.” She turned the page without looking at him. He wanted to tell her that he was trying to be one of those engagements but kept his mouth shut.
Before the pregnancy his mother had been hinting that maybe he should start looking for a wife. He didn’t want to awaken that beast inside her.
His mother snorted. “Good God, Fieldhurst is marrying. The man has one foot in the grave, he’s so old.”
Oliver made a noncommittal sound.
“And his bride.” She made a tut-tutting sound. “So young. Far too young for Fieldhurst. Why, he could be her father. Such a shame.”
The toast he’d been chewing went dry in his mouth. He could barely swallow it without choking. It was like he knew. He just knew what had happened.
“Wh-who is he marrying?” he asked, trying to sound like he didn’t care.
His mother’s eyes ran back up the page. “A Miss Ellen Hillgrave. Daughter of Lord and Lady Hillgrave.”
The toast threatened to come back up.
That couldn’t be.
