Page 95 of Deceiving an Earl
It had all turned out to be a lie.
His mother had lied to him. To his father—Arthur. To Oliver. To everyone.
And somehow Needham had discovered her lie, and he was using it against her.
Just know that everything I do, I do for you.
Philip stopped walking. At some point it had started raining, a fine mist that sat on his shoulders but didn’t penetrate his clothes.
The lies came together, the story took on meaning and form.
He put himself in his mother’s shoes seventeen years ago. Newly wed. Pregnant with another man’s baby. Had she and Oliver done it before or after she’d wed his father?
Philip refused to believe that it was after. She would never have done that to Arthur because, despite everything, Philip knew that his mother had loved Arthur.
But she had also loved Oliver. Or had she?
He shook his head, droplets of rainwater falling from the tips of his hair into his eyes. He didn’t know. He just didn’t know that part of the story.
But the rest he could imagine. He could deduce.
How was she supposed to tell Arthur that the son she bore was not his? There would be scandal. She would be abandoned, probably divorced, and Philip would have been a bastard.
But by keeping the secret, no one was the wiser except for his mother. Arthur had his coveted son. Philip had a father who adored him, and the title was secure.
A title that Philip didn’t deserve, but now had to keep.
Because revealing his mother’s secret would be disastrous.
And Needham knew this. And Needham was using this information to his advantage.
Why?
Philip didn’t know the answer to that. All he knew was that his mother was being blackmailed, and Needham was pitting Philip against his mother.
The eye that Needham had punched had stopped throbbing hours ago, but it was difficult to see out of it. His friends would think he was a hero for getting into a scuffle. No one would know that his soon-to-be stepfather had hit him.
Philip’s stomach roiled at the thought of his mother married to that evil man.
And hewasevil.
Philip didn’t believe that Needham knew nothing of the killings done by his assistants, but he knew enough to know that Needham would not be implicated in the murders. He would walk free. Free to marry his mother and plunge her into a life of misery. And Needham would force Philip to stay away.
That was not acceptable. Philip couldn’t let that happen. Needham was a prominent surgeon. A physician to the royal family. He was well-respected and, like the snake that he was, he would slither out of this scandal.
No.
Philip couldn’t allow it. But he didn’t know what to do to stop it.
…
“Excuse me, my lord, there is a situation that needs to be addressed.”
Oliver looked up from the coat sleeve that he was adjusting. Richard was searching through his closet for the shoes Oliver wanted to wear.
In an hour he had a meeting with a representative from the American shipping company in which he was thinking of investing. He believed that this investment would be profitable, and he was anxious to begin.
After the meeting he had an appointment with his secretary to plan his trip abroad. There was no reason to remain in London, especially after he signed the paperwork with the American. And he certainly could not stay and watch Ellen marry Needham.
