Chapter Thirty

Before leaving to meet with O’Leary and Ashland, Oliver had posted footmen at all the entrances with strict instructions that they were not to allow Needham in.

“Any problems?” Oliver asked the butler when he returned from his meeting.

“None, my lord. We are being very vigilant.”

“Good. What about Lady Fieldhurst? How is she?”

“Sadly, the same. No improvement, I’m afraid.”

“That just means she’s healing from the inside out. I will go up to see her now, but will stay for only a short time. I have some business to attend to.” He gave the butler a pointed look that the man seemed to understand immediately.

“Certainly, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “Could I, uh, be of some service with this business you must attend? I have a great right hook, if I do say so myself.” He grinned, and Oliver laughed. Probably the first time he’d laughed in days.

“I appreciate the offer, but this is something I need to do myself. If my plan should fail I will certainly call on you.”

“And I will answer the call. Justice comes in many forms.”

“Yes, it does. Yes, it does.”

Oliver headed up the steps to Ellen’s rooms. Philip was still slumped in the chair and appeared to be sleeping, his chest rising and falling deeply.

Gently he lowered himself onto the side of the bed. Ellen’s head turned toward him, and the tip of her tongue came out to lick her cracked lips.

“He will pay for this,” Oliver whispered. “You have my word that he will never darken your doorstep again. You will never have to lay eyes on him again.”

Her eyes fluttered but did not open and she seemed to have fallen back into the void that she had escaped to.

Oliver leaned forward and lightly kissed her brow, the only place on her that wasn’t bruised or bleeding. She sighed but did not wake up. “I love you,” he whispered against her hair. “And I love our son.”

He stood and glanced at Philip. The boy was staring at him. Had he heard what Oliver said?

“I need to leave again,” Oliver said.

“I want to go with you.”

“No, son, you can’t.” It felt so right calling him son. At some point they would need to talk about it, acknowledge it openly, and discuss their next steps.

But not now.

“I’ve taken boxing lessons,” Philip said. “I know how to fight.”

Oliver took in his blackened eye. The swelling had gone down, but it still looked painful and raw. Another wave of fury overtook him. Needham had caused that. Needham had punched his son, and he wasn’t getting away with that, either.

“I need you to watch over your mother for now.”

“You don’t think I can do it. You don’t think I can fight Needham.”

“That’s not true. I know you can. I know you feel the same rage inside that I do. There is a parallel rage inside me for what he did to your eye. I will avenge that as well.”

Philip appeared stunned for a moment, then frightened. “What if he hurts you, too?” he whispered.

“I won’t allow that to happen.”

“But what if you can’t stop it? What if he has a pistol and he shoots you?”

“I won’t be completely alone. I’ll have friends watching from the shadows. He won’t kill me.” But part of Oliver wondered at the outcome. Philip was right. If cornered, there was no telling what Needham would do.

He’d already escaped one scandal. He might not escape another. Killing a nobleman such as Oliver would be a bold and stupid move, but desperate men did desperate things.

A week ago he wouldn’t have cared if his life ended. Now it was all about Ellen. Avenging Ellen. Protecting Ellen. But there was Philip to think about now. His son. He couldn’t leave Philip an orphan even if he could never acknowledge their relationship outright.

“He won’t be so stupid as to shoot me,” he said.

Philip glanced at Ellen, then down at his hands. “I wouldn’t think him so stupid as to hit a woman, either,” Philip said softly.

“It’s never right to hit a woman, Philip. Never. No matter the circumstances. They are bold and wonderful creatures, women. And we are here to protect them. When that trust of protection is breached then justice must serve.”

“And you are the justice?”

“I am.”

Philip nodded. “Just come back to us.”

“I will return.” He took one more look at Philip—his son. He was just on the cusp of manhood but not really a man yet. There was still much of the little boy in him, the one who needed his mother and a good father figure. He would be a fine man someday. He just required guidance to the right path.

Oliver nodded to him as he left, sending up a small prayer that he would be back.

It was surprisingly easy to gain entrance to Needham’s townhouse. The housekeeper simply let him in and directed him to the front parlor where Oliver cooled his heels for about ten minutes.

Needham’s home was not at all what Oliver would have pictured. It was nearly sterile, with no pictures on the walls or carpets on the hard floors. He had utilitarian furniture as if he knew he needed furniture so he’d bought the least expensive he could find. Being such a prominent physician and especially one to the royal family, you would think he was wealthier than this. But then Oliver knew of men who were hugely wealthy but chose not to spend money on things that would make them more comfortable.

Needham appeared in the doorway then stopped short, surprise in his expression.

“I take it your housekeeper didn’t tell you who was calling?”

“She didn’t.” Needham stepped in and quietly shut the door behind him, but he stayed where he was, not venturing inside. “What are you doing here?”

“I think you know.”

“If this has to do with Ellen, then it is none of your business. The moment she agreed to wed me she was out of your life for good.”

Did the man have no remorse? Did he not care that he’d left her nearly dead?

“I did not agree to that.” Oliver started walking the perimeter of the room, still far away from Needham, but when he completed his circuit he would be next to him. Needham watched him closely. “She has four broken fingers, bruised ribs, a broken orbital bone, and so many cuts and bruises that the physician stopped counting.”

Needham remained silent, his gaze fixed on Oliver.

“Does it not concern you that you almost killed her?”

“But I didn’t.”

Bastard.

“And that is acceptable?”

Needham shrugged. “She was not following my orders. It is in my right to discipline her.”

Oliver had to forcefully not clench his fingers into a fist. The man was a monster.

“It is your right to discipline her if she is your wife. She is not your wife.”

“Close enough.”

“I wonder—” Oliver edged closer. “What kind of parents teach a child that it is acceptable to beat a woman?”

Needham huffed out a laugh. “Please. Don’t get all high-and-mighty on me. A woman is a man’s property, and it is perfectly acceptable to discipline her as a husband sees fit.” He paused, considered Oliver. “Besides, it was your fault she had to be disciplined to begin with.”

“Mine?” Oliver raised a brow even as his insides clenched. He knew the man was testing him, getting under his skin on purpose and damn it, it was working.

“I told her she was no longer to see you or converse with you, yet she continued to do so.”

“That is not her fault. I was the one who called on her.” Had Needham really beaten Ellen because of Oliver?

Needham shrugged. “She should have told you.”

And she had. The first time he’d visited after the engagement was announced, but he’d continued to call on her, and she’d paid the price for his stubbornness.

But that did not make what Needham did right.

“I know the secret,” Oliver said. The length of the room separated them, and Needham had to turn his head to keep Oliver in his sights.

“What secret?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Needham. I know you were blackmailing her into marrying you. Was it because you could not get a woman the normal way?”

Rage flattened the doctor’s eyes, but he seemed to tamp it down and didn’t respond. Oliver stopped pacing, not yet ready to approach.

“I know Philip is my child.” He didn’t really know that for a fact but was going on his gut. “I won’t allow you to blackmail Ellen or punish Philip.”

“The boy is a bastard, through and through, both by blood and by nature.”

With supreme force of will Oliver pushed away the ever-increasing rage inside him and made himself practice patience.

“That is enough.” His voice was calm, quiet, forcing Needham to concentrate on his words.

“Or what? What will you do to me? No one will believe that I did that to her.”

“Two scandals in one week, Needham. That’s hard to overcome.”

Needham made a noise of dismissal. “The other was preposterous. No one believes it anyway.”

Oliver grinned, and Needham paled just a bit. “Do you think so?”

“I know so. I am highly regarded in Society. No one will believe you, just as no one believed that I knew about the dead bodies.”

“Ah. So you were aware that your assistants were killing people to provide bodies to you for autopsies.”

“Of course. How else was I supposed to get them? The Resurrectionists couldn’t provide me with enough, and I was in competition with other physicians. That wasn’t acceptable. I needed a steady supply. People were relying on me to teach them. They were coming to me because I am the best, and they wanted to learn from the best. It was a necessity. Besides, those people were nobodies. They didn’t matter.”

They didn’t matter?

What kind of person, a physician no less, thought a human life didn’t matter? That his career and his reputation were more important than their lives?

“You are a sick man, Needham. Sick in the head.”

Needham laughed. “I am the most gifted surgeon in England, possibly all of Britain. I’ve sacrificed everything to become so. Hours and hours of cutting bodies open and studying them. My knowledge could save mankind. That is not sick. That is fact.”

Oliver had never met a man so full of his self-worth, who put himself above everyone.

“And how did Ellen fit into this?”

“She is my perfect mate. She’s beautiful, and she handles herself well in social situations.”

Oliver waited for more, for a declaration of love or something other than her charm and her looks. But nothing else was said, and Oliver felt a sadness for Ellen that this man did not appreciate her inner beauty as well as her outer beauty. She was so much more than her looks.

“And when she didn’t cooperate with your plans you blackmailed her?”

“She didn’t see what I saw. All she could see was you, and when I figured out why, I used it against her.” He shrugged as if that was what happened when you crossed him.

“How did you discover her secret?”

Needham chuckled again. “It’s so obvious. I can’t believe you didn’t see it yourself. The boy looks just like you, and by the way Ellen looked at you, I knew.”

Oliver felt a rush of pride that Needham thought Philip looked like him. How had he missed it? How could he not have known? Because it had been the furthest thing from his mind, and even when Ashland had mentioned it he still hadn’t believed that Ellen hadn’t told him.

Oliver sidled closer but Needham was so far into his story, talking about himself and how wonderful he was that he didn’t even notice that Oliver had stepped up to him until Oliver’s fist met Needham’s cheekbone.

The man howled and staggered to the side, clutching his face. Oliver quickly followed it with a punch to Needham’s soft underbelly and another to his groin, causing him to double over and sink to the floor with a strangled sound.

“The first was for Philip’s black eye. Don’t ever touch my son again or I will kill you. The second was for the people you had murdered, the ones you believe aren’t important. Those people were far better than you could ever be.”

Oliver crouched down close to Needham’s face. He was on his side, gasping, clutching his hopefully shriveled and throbbing cock, his eyes clenched closed.

“Look at me,” Oliver said softly. “Look at me,” he repeated when Needham didn’t obey.

Needham slit one eye open and Oliver whispered in his ear. “The last one was for Ellen. If I see you go near her again, even if you’re across the street or across the park, I will put you on your operating table and cut you up myself. I will pull your organs out one by one, while you are still alive.”

Oliver stood and brushed the dust from his trousers.

Needham’s hand fell to his side, and Oliver casually stepped on it, watching as Needham’s eyes widened and he howled in pain. Slowly Oliver increased the pressure of his foot on Needham’s hand until the bones crunched underneath.

He took his foot away and Needham rolled to his side, clutching his broken fingers. “And that is for all of the future surgeons you will never teach because you won’t be able to hold a scalpel again.”

The door opened and O’Leary, Ashland, O’Leary’s commander, and Needham’s housekeeper entered.

The housekeeper was pale and shaking. The three men looked grim.

“I’ll take it from here,” O’Leary said.

“Did you hear him admit to the murders?” Oliver asked.

“We did.”

Oliver looked down at Needham’s gasping, moaning body. “Your career is over.”