Page 18 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“Are you sure you won’t have some tea? And in a half hour I’ll have stew. Goat’s milk and honey with eggs and good vegetables grown by my own hand.”
“I’m sure you did everything but nurse them with your own teat.”
She stiffened. No one spoke to her like that. “There’s no cause to be crude, sir.”
“What do you want, Miss Bluebell?”
So he would have it straight out. She understood. She preferred the plain-speaking ones too. Told her exactly when they softened. So she huffed out a defeated breath.
“Very well, sir. I believe there’s a market south of here. A carriage house that will buy what you’ve got or know someone who wants it.”
“Which does me no good because the thing won’t travel.”
“Well, as to that, you have the pay to fix it up, and Mr. Grummer is ready to do the work. All you need is a horse to take it there.”
He was silent, his eyes narrowed. She usually allowed the quiet to linger, knowing that it discomfited others more than her. But this time, she was the one who fidgeted. What was he thinking? Why did he hate her so? The only explanation she had was exactly what Lady Linsel said.
Her speech. Her accent. Having thought hard on it all afternoon, she realized that when compared to Lady Linsel, her tone was different. The way she spoke was different. That had to be the reason this man despised her so readily, even in the face of her beauty.
“Let me guess. You have a horse?”
“I do. She’s none too pretty to look at and none too fast. But she’ll get you there well enough.”
He grunted, the sound like a bull. “I’ll see it first.”
“Of course you will.”
“But I’ll not buy it. You’ll have to get it back from the inn somehow.”
She turned on him, her hands planted on her hips. “Now, how am I to do that, I ask you?” It was all for show. If things wentas she planned, she’d be down there with him, taking sweet Mina all the way to London.
He shrugged as if to say it was not his problem. She glared at him so he would think he had won. “That will double the price, you know,” she said in her most waspish tone. People liked it when they thought they’d gotten the better of her.
“No, it won’t. Because I’m not as vain as Dicky or as hoodwinked as your neighbors. It’ll be a fair price, or I won’t borrow your horse.”
“Rent,” she stressed.
“Even so.”
She glared at him because it made his lips twitch. Let him feel smug. She was ready for him as she headed toward the door.
“Mina’s penned outside.”
He bowed to her, then turned on his heel. She got a good look at his backside, which was as fine as his front. He had a way of walking that tickled her low in the belly. A slow, languid stride that drew the eye to parts she wasn’t supposed to notice. But she did look, and it made her cheeks flush hot.
Then she realized he was pulling ahead of her, and she rushed to catch up. His height made it such that she had to scurry to keep abreast of him, even though he walked slowly. It was a tactic, she was sure. Done to make her feel small and insignificant. Sadly, it was working, especially since Lady Linsel had begun the work earlier.
They made it quickly to Mina’s pen. Maybelle’s cottage was small and there was little space for keeping animals. She’d already sold the goat and chickens in preparation for leaving, so there was only Mina with her ratty tail looking sad as she cropped the grass.
“That’s a sorry looking nag.”
She knew he was baiting her, but she felt the wound nonetheless.
“She’s a truer horse than you’ll ever know. Mina and I have been friends since she was a foal. She may not look so fine as your London prancers, but she’ll get you where you need to go, be satisfied with the grass at her feet, and be ready in the morning.”
“Nursed by your very own hand…” he said, his eyebrows raised as he called her bluff.
“Not nursed. She came to us a little older than that, though I played with her as a child.”
