Chapter Twenty-Six

The meeting went well. Oliver was very pleased with the contract and the representative from the American shipping company seemed to be equally satisfied. He wouldn’t see any profit for a few years, but he speculated that when the profits started rolling in, they were going to be very fine, indeed.

When he returned home, he half expected Philip to be gone, but he was still there, sitting in that rarely used front room, staring down at his feet.

Oliver sat in the chair across from him. “You look a bit warmer and drier.”

Philip nodded.

“I’m assuming you were fed as well?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The words were said so softly that Oliver barely heard them. This was not the Philip he had come to know. What had happened to send him here?

“Do you want to tell me how you got that black eye?”

Philip shook his head.

“I’m assuming there is a reason you were sitting on my front stoop all morning.”

“How did your meeting go?”

Oliver hesitated. So this was how it was going to go. Philip did not want to talk about what happened, yet he’d stuck around, waiting for Oliver to return. Which meant, what? That he really did want to talk about it, but in his own time?

How the hell was Oliver supposed to know? He didn’t have children of his own, and it’d been a hell of a long time since he’d been Philip’s age.

“It went well. I invested in an American shipping company. We’ll be transporting cotton and tobacco, among other things.”

Oliver thought he saw a flair of interest in Philip’s one eye but he ducked his head again, before Oliver could be certain. They had briefly spoken about foreign investments, and Oliver thought that was something Philip might like, but it was not something Oliver could teach him, since Ellen did not want him near her son any longer.

“Does your mother know you are here?”

“It doesn’t matter to her where I am.”

Ah. So they were finally getting to the crux of the problem.

“I’m certain that is not true. She’s probably beside herself with worry.”

Philip shrugged. “She has more important things to think about, like her wedding.”

Oliver felt a stab in the region of his heart, but he brushed it away. He needed to become accustomed to hearing about Ellen and William together. And this was precisely the reason he was going on an extended holiday.

Damn. His secretary was due in any moment now to go over the logistics of Oliver’s holiday.

“I’m certain you are just as important to her, if not more, than her wedding.”

Philip finally looked at him. The eye was starting to go from red to purple and blue.

“How do you feel about her marrying Needham?”

Oliver paused, not expecting that question and certainly not prepared for it. “If she’s happy then I’m happy for her.”

Philip seemed to study his face, so Oliver tried to keep it impassive, tried to keep his true feelings hidden.

“The truth is, Philip, it doesn’t matter what I think. I have no say in what your mother does.”

“But aren’t you incensed that Needham is getting away with murder?”

How the hell did Philip know about that? Unless word was already out. “This is the way things work,” Oliver said, carefully choosing his words. “Needham could very well be telling the truth when he says he didn’t know that his assistants were murdering people to provide him with bodies for autopsies.”

Philip snorted, and Oliver caught a glimpse of the old Philip in his look of disgust.

“Needham claims he was paying them more than the normal price because they were good at what they did and they never disappointed. He says that’s all he knows of it,” Oliver said.

“I think he’s lying.”

Oliver did, too, but he was no match against the justice system, and in all honesty the justice system leaned toward the nobility and gentry. “His reputation is protecting him.”

“That’s bollocks. That’s not right. You and I both know that he was involved, and my mother still wants to marry him.”

Oliver sighed. “I know it seems unfair, but you have to remember that Needham could be telling the truth. If he is telling the truth and he is convicted, an innocent man, a brilliant man, could be unjustly hanged.”

Philip shook his head. “He’s not innocent.”

“Even if both of us truly believe he’s guilty, it’s still up to your mother to decide how to proceed.”

It seemed unfair to Oliver, too, but he had the maturity to see the situation as it was and to realize that he was helpless against it.

“Did you love her?” Philip asked.

Good God but the lad was surprising him at every turn.

“I know that you knew each other back then. Back before I was born.”

Ashland’s words came back to haunt Oliver. Oliver tried to forget that conversation because, just like Needham, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t pursue it. He couldn’t ask Ellen.

“I did,” he admitted. “Very much. But then she was betrothed to your father.”

Philip was watching him closely, almost obsessively, and Oliver shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“And now she’s betrothed to Needham,” Philip said.

Oliver cleared his throat, hating the harsh reality, but also liking that they were being honest with each other. “Yes. Now she’s betrothed to Needham.”

“He doesn’t like me.” Philip fingered his swollen eye and Oliver suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Did Needham do that to your eye? Did he hit you, Philip?”

Philip quickly dropped his hand to his lap. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

“If Needham hit you then your mother needs to know.”

“She saw him do it.”

Oliver stilled. “What?”

“She saw him hit me.”

“And she stopped him?”

“She protested, but it was a weak protest. She’s sending me away. Back to Eton. Told me that I wasn’t to come home over the holidays.” Philip’s voice cracked, and he pressed his lips together.

Oliver wanted to protest, to deny that Ellen would ever say such a thing to her beloved son, but the words were stuck in the back of his throat, and he simply stared at Philip.

“He’s blackmailing her,” Philip said. “Forcing her to marry him and to send me away.”

“I don’t believe that,” Oliver said. He couldn’t believe that Ellen—his Ellen—would allow such a thing.

“That’s what she told me last night before I left the house. That’s why it doesn’t matter where I am. She doesn’t care.”

“Why would she do that?”

Philip looked at him, his good eye glowing with determination and anger. “You don’t know? You haven’t figured it out yet?”

Oliver shook his head, suddenly wary as a deep fear wrapped around him.

“I’m your son,” Philip said.