Page 82 of Deceiving an Earl
He laughed, a bitter laugh. “That’s it? That’s all I get by way of explanation? It’s complicated? What’s complicated, Ellen? At least give me that.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Such riddles you speak.”
“I’m sorry.”
He wanted to tell her what she could do with her apology, but he bit his tongue and stepped toward her. She watched him warily but did not back up. God help her, but she stood her ground and let him crowd her space.
“One last kiss,” he said before swooping down and taking her mouth with his.
She tasted so good. She tasted so familiar, and he could not imagine his life without tasting her every day. But she was insistent that this was the way it had to be, and he had no recourse, no more argument left to give her. So he would taste her this one last time.
And to his surprise she kissed him back with a passion that he’d experienced with only her. But it was a sad kiss, because they both knew this was the end. He wouldn’t come back to her, not after this night. Not even if she ended the engagement to William. He still had some pride left in him.
Reluctantly he pulled away, and they stared at each other in the light of the moon. Ellen still clutched the drapery with one hand. Her gaze searched his face, as if memorizing it.
She touched his cheek with her other hand, let her fingers drift down his neck until she pulled away.
“There was only ever you,” she said.
“Yet I am never good enough.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, the image of her by the window etched in his memory for eternity.
…
He had to keep reminding himself to not push through the crowd, to not run anyone over in his search for Ellen. But, by God, he would find her, and he would talk to her.
The ball was a crush, and it was difficult to see very far in front of him. Eventually he found her standing in the middle of a group of people, a dour-faced, plain-looking woman standing beside her. This person had to be her mother. How could such an imposing woman birth such a beautiful girl?
Ellen met his gaze and slightly shook her head, warning him off. Her mother was looking around as if she were guarding a precious jewel, and in a way she was. Oliver knew then that her mother knew of Oliver and was determined to keep them apart.
He could not get close to her all night and was frustrated at every turn. Her mother left Ellen’s side only once, and that was when Ellen and Fieldhurst danced, and then they became the center of attention. Oliver had no hope of cutting in.
He stood helplessly on the side, watching the love of his life dance with her betrothed. It should have been him in her arms. It should have been him that she was dancing with.
“Meet her outside the terrace doors.”
Oliver looked down at the girl who had sidled up to him. He hadn’t even known she was there until she spoke. He recognized her as one of the girls who had been in Ellen’s circle of friends at the first ball. Ruth. For some reason he remembered her name and that Ellen considered Ruth one of her better friends.
She wandered away, and Oliver had to shake himself. Had he heard her right? Did Ellen want to meet with him?
A surge of hope rose within him, and he made his way to the terrace doors and outside. There were too many on the terrace for them to meet, so he jogged down the steps and into the deep shadows, hoping she would think to find him there.
Ten minutes later she was running toward him, and he opened his arms. Suddenly he was filled with the scent of Ellen, the feel of Ellen.
Already she was sobbing. “Oh, Oliver, it’s horrible. Father signed a betrothal contract with Fieldhurst, and both Mother and Father absolutely refuse to listen to me. I’ve tried telling them that you and I are to wed and that I can’t possibly marry Fieldhurst, but it’s like they’re deaf. I fear there is nothing we can do now. The wedding is in a week.”
She pulled back, her cheeks wet, her eyes red-rimmed, her nose running. He couldn’t have loved her more.
“We’ll figure something out.”
She sniffed. “There is nothing to figure out. They simply will not listen, and Mother went ahead with the planning of the wedding. Invitations have gone out, and I’ve already had two fittings for my gown.” She covered her face and started crying again.
Oliver patted her on the shoulder while his mind worked to find a solution. He was not going to lose Ellen to an old man like Fieldhurst. There was no possibility that Fieldhurst would make her happy. She was too wild. Too free. He was too stodgy. Too…old.
“They want me to marry an earl because it will elevate the family and I will become a countess.” She hiccupped. “I keep telling them that someday you will be an earl, but they call me foolish.” She clutched his arm. “We’re not foolish, are we, Oliver? This is real? What we feel for each other?”
