Chapter Twenty-Eight

Oliver’s words dropped into the silence between them. Ellen opened her mouth to deny them, to tell him that he couldn’t possibly love her, that if he only knew what she had done to him, the secrets she’d kept, he would despise her.

But of course she couldn’t say any of that so instead she said, “Oliver, don’t.”

“No.” He shook his head in a way that told her he’d made a decision. “I’m not going to be quiet about this anymore. I’m not going to stand back and watch you make such a monumental mistake. Not again.”

“Arthur was not a mistake.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you did. You said ‘not again.’”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“If not for Arthur there wouldn’t be Philip. That was not a mistake.”

“Is that true, Ellen?” He cocked his head to stare at her.

She paused. “Marrying William is not a mistake, either,” she said softly. It was a very calculated risk.

“Ellen.” He ran a hand through his hair and breathed out in frustration. “We need to be honest with each other.”

Ellen stood and paced to the other end of the room when what she really wanted to do was run away, hide. From everything. From William, from Oliver, from herself.

“I told you I loved you.” He stood as well.

“Oliver—”

“Please, let me finish. I think I’ve loved you from that first kiss under the tree, and I’ve never stopped. Not once. I think… I think the reason I never married was because no one measured up to you. I tried. I searched. But no one compared.”

“Oh, Oliver.” Her heart was breaking, and she didn’t think her heart could break any more than it already had. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell me the truth.”

She drew in a deep breath, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t do it. She’d held her secret for so long that she physically couldn’t tell him. And there was still that fear of ruining everyone’s lives. And then there was William, who was threatening everything.

But she could tell him one thing. One thing that was completely the truth.

“That night, that first night with you, was everything that I had hoped being with a man might be. You said you fell in love with me under the tree. I fell in love with you long before that. But we were doomed. We are destined to be doomed, to never be able to express our love to each other.”

“At least you admit your love, but I refuse to believe we are doomed.”

She paced to the other side of the room and stopped before the fireplace, agitated and sad that their lives would always be interrupted, never completed. She did love this man. He was kind and gentle and always willing to lend a helping hand.

“You must,” she said. “You must come to terms with the fact that we can never be together.”

“Why?” His expression was determined, as if he could will her to change her mind.

“There are circumstances that are beyond your control. For a man who is always in control I know that is hard to accept, but there are some things that will not bend to your will.”

He laughed, a harsh laugh. “Oh, I know that. You will never bend to my will.”

She smiled and for a moment they shared a warm look, two lovers who had known each other for eternity and shared a love that would never die, even if it was doomed.

“Is he blackmailing you, Ellen?”

Her smile evaporated, the warmth quickly replaced by a cold fear that she had learned to associate with William.

“Is he?”

“Let’s just say that my choices have more to do with those I love than anything else.”

He looked at her closely, as if he could delve into her mind and extract her thoughts and secrets. Oh, if only he could, then she wouldn’t have to voice them.

“I can help you.”

“You can’t. You might think you can, but you can’t.”

“Then this is it? Your choice is made?”

For a long moment she didn’t speak, because the words wouldn’t form. But then she thought of Philip and his legacy and inheritance and she knew she had no choice. She never had. Not since that moment when she’d realized Philip was Oliver’s son and she’d chosen to keep it her secret. Her course had been set from then on, and it was far too late to change it now.

“My choice is made, and I have chosen William.”

She could see the hope drain from him. She wanted to take the words back but knew she couldn’t.

“Very well,” he said. “I won’t be back again, just so you know. There are only so many times I’ll come begging.”

“I understand.”

“But know this. If you ever need me you know where to find me.”

Her throat closed up with so many emotions that she could only nod. Part of her felt good knowing that he would always be there for her, even while she knew she would never reach out to him. William had made it clear that she was not to speak to Oliver again. Even this meeting was dangerous for her.

He walked to the door and she watched him go, desperately wanting to run after him, to beg him to stay and help her.

His hand on the knob, he turned to look at her with blue eyes so much like their son’s.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said, “if Philip were my son.”

Dinner that night was mostly a silent affair. Ellen had not even wanted to eat but she knew her time with Philip was ending soon. He would return to Eton in a few weeks, and who knew when William would allow him back.

But few words were spoken. Philip kept his gaze on his plate, and Ellen just moved her food around on hers.

They were both startled by a commotion at the front door. Ellen was halfway out of her seat and Philip’s fork was suspended in the air when William came crashing in.

“William,” Ellen said in surprise.

He looked a bit wild, his hair disheveled, his eyes flat.

Philip put his fork down and rose slowly, his expression wary as he trained his one good eye on William.

“We need to talk,” William said. His fingers tapped the side of his leg in agitation.

“Of course. Philip, if you’ll excuse us.”

Philip hesitated, looking between Ellen and William.

“It will be fine,” she said with a forced smile.

William started shifting from foot to foot.

Philip sidled past William, keeping a wary eye on him, and exited.

Ellen felt exposed and vulnerable alone in the room with William. Casually, she moved so that the width of the dining room table was between them.

William paced the length of the room, his fingers tap, tap, tapping on his thigh. She’d never seen him like this before.

He suddenly stopped and looked at her. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

She swallowed the bile that had crawled up her throat. “Find what out?”

“Don’t patronize me, Ellen. I know. I know everything. You can’t do anything without me knowing.”

She looked around as if there were eyes staring at her from every corner and through the windows. Had he bribed her servants? Did he have the house watched?

“He was here. Armbruster.”

She forced herself to visibly relax. “Yes, he was here. Philip had gone to him for some…help. And Oliver brought him back.”

William shook his head. “You lie.”

“I’m not lying. I promise you that was what happened. You can even ask him.” She despised herself for the pleading tone in her voice.

“Didn’t you hear me? I told you that I know everything. Did you think I would trust you?” He laughed, and the sound sent chills down her back.

He moved to the head of the table, where she had been sitting. Her dinner was still on the plate, untouched. William picked it up and hurled it at the wall. China shattered. Gravy dripped down the wall in grotesque globules. Ellen jumped and slid to the side, away from William, but in two strides he was beside her, grabbing her arm in a bruising grip that made her gasp.

“You defied my strict orders.”

“William, you’re hurting me.” She tried to tug away, but he merely tightened his grip, digging his fingers into her arm until she swore he was bending her bone.

His eyes were bloodshot, and fine tremors were coursing through him.

“I told you never to see him again.”

She lifted her chin, more angry than scared. How dare this man control her in such a way?

“He knows, William. He knows about Philip.”

William stilled, and his eyes narrowed.

“You told him?”

“No. He suspected. Just like you did, and he came to me and asked me to be honest with him, and I was.” She was lying, but she would do anything to get away from William. She couldn’t marry this monster. She couldn’t trust him with her life because she feared that someday he would kill her in a fit of rage.

How did no one see this side of him? How had she missed this part of him?

“You lying bitch.”

The punch came without warning, close-fisted and backed by the immense power of him. She was so stunned that she didn’t even have time to cry out. She reeled sideways, her hand going to her numb cheekbone. That punch was quickly followed by another, this one to her side, causing her to gasp and double over.

He pushed her and she fell, hitting her head on the edge of the table with a whack that vibrated through her entire body. For a moment she lay on the carpet she and Arthur had picked out together, stunned, blinking, unable to focus.

Through the haze of pain, she glimpsed William’s face, twisted in fury and something so terrifying that she couldn’t name it. He drew his leg back and kicked her in the stomach. She curled into a ball, covering her vulnerable midsection with crossed arms, but he kept raining kicks on her. Her thigh. Her hip. Her upper arm. Over and over he kicked her, and all she could do was roll into a tighter ball and protect herself as best she could.

She glimpsed a chair leg and beyond that the table leg. If she could just get under the table he wouldn’t be able to kick her. Slowly she uncurled herself and reached forward, grasping the table leg. Thank God Arthur had believed in purchasing quality furniture. It had taken four men to move this table. She dragged her aching body a few inches forward, then a few more.

She was kicked in the stomach again and had to stop because the breath rushed out of her. For a moment she thought she was going to pass out because she couldn’t breathe, but eventually her lungs loosened their hold and she pulled in a breath. With the breath came courage and determination, and she pulled harder. She was nearly halfway under the table when she felt William grab her ankles and yank her out. She wanted to cry in frustration, but instead she reached for the table leg again.

William stepped on her hand, and she heard bones crunch. She screamed as fire raced up her arm and blurred her vision.

The last thing she saw was his foot heading toward her face.