Page 48 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
She frowned. “How dark? How angry?”
“My father had a family. A daughter and two sons. He had plenty of coal for heat and gifts under a tree at the family seat. And me? I was nothing to him.”
“Nothing?” she pressed. “He educated you, he acknowledged you—”
“Yes, yes, but as a by-blow. What is that but to show me what I couldn’t have? All my friends had a life forever denied to me.”
She looked away, and he regretted the bitterness that still infused his words. Was he truly still angry? At a man who had been dead these last two years?
He leaned back in his chair and wiped his brow. “Do you know that my favorite thing to do at home is to take off my boots? I wander barefoot as if I were again in leading strings. Do you not enjoy that?”
Her gaze came back to his. “Barefoot?”
“On a hot summer day? Surely you have—”
“I spent most of my childhood stripping out of shoes and stockings.”
He grinned, then nodded at her feet. “So take them off. Stretch your toes out of those boots. Imagine how it would feel—”
“I couldn’t!” she said, shocked.
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I promised to be a gentleman, remember? But that does not mean you have to be a lady.”
“I am—”
“A lady, yes, yes. You are. But you can take off your shoes. Go into another room to do it if you like, if you are afraid I will catch sight of your pretty toes. But you are at home. Why not be at ease?”
She frowned. “Are you trying to avoid your tale?”
“Not at all.” Then when she looked at him skeptically, he pressed a hand to his heart. “Upon my honor, I swear, I shall tell you the whole of it.” He hadn’t meant to tell her thefulltale, but now that he’d said it, he resolved to do it. “But go on. I’ll be content here as you take them off. I swear I won’t tell a soul.”
She resisted. She had been reared too much as a lady even in this tiny village to do such a scandalous thing. He kept his expression bored as he sipped his tea, pretending that he didn’t care one way or another.
He didn’t think she’d do it, but the breezeless summer heat aided him, even at dusk. “It would be nice,” she said. When he didn’t comment, she flashed him a guilty smile. “I’ll be just a moment.”
She was gone in a flash, around the corner into “the bedroom” of this one room cottage. He heard the creak of the floorboards and imagined so much more.
With her gone, he could adjust his clothing. Nothing but her sweet honeypot would ease his erection, but at least he could hide it better. And when she returned, he was mopping his brow with exaggerated movements.
“Mr. Hallowsby, I had not thought how uncomfortable you must be. Did you wish to go outside? There might be a breeze—”
“I will stay here. But would you mind terribly if I took off my coat?” Thank God he had no waistcoat today. He hadn’t wanted to risk it on another encounter with an irritated country animal.
“Please, sir. But only if you continue your tale.”
“Of course,” he said as he stripped to his shirtsleeves. “Much better. Thank you.” Then she settled in her seat, and he tried to see if her toes appeared. In this he was disappointed. Every part of her lower body remained hidden beneath her skirt, but he could be patient.
“Where was I?”
“Alone on Christmas and bitter angry.”
“It wasn’t quite Christmas, but close. Then came the knock at my door.”
“Cara with her bruised face and tears.”
He nodded, remembering that night. He’d thought her a beautiful porcelain doll horribly abused. “I’d spoken with her before, but I hadn’t expected her to appear. She was one of my mother’s associates.”
“Another courtesan?”
