Page 5 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“Oh my, yes, milord,” she said with an artful smile. “But…oh.” Her face fell as she glanced to Bram. “Forgive me, but is your wife in a delicate condition?”
Dicky laughed with good humor. “Clary is always in a delicate…”
“With child, Dicky,” Bram interrupted.
Dicky puffed up, preening as if it had been a miracle to get his wife pregnant. “Why yes, indeed.”
“Oh dear,” the woman said sadly. “When a woman increases, she’s quite delicate. I’ve only the one posset that will do.” She touched a small bag. “It’s strong, but made for the frail.”
“Perfect,” Dicky began.
“Oh no, sir, I couldn’t. It’s for my aunt. She’s been faring poorly, and I saved it just for ’er.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” Bram interrupted as he grabbed Dicky’s elbow and tried to steer him around. “She’s got nothing—”
“Wait, wait,” said Dicky, shaking off Bram’s arm. “She’s got the one, and Clary will be impossible if we don’t give her something. You know how she is.”
The lady shook her head and abruptly brightened. “Well, perhaps some of my other draughts will do. If I could meet the lady? See what she—”
Good God, she was worming herself deeper. Didn’t she see the way Dicky was looking at her breasts? If the idiot got it in his head to seduce the witch, they’d never leave this miserable village, and he’d never get paid.
“Dicky, no,” Bram said, though he knew two seconds after voicing the words that he’d taken the wrong tone with the man. Dicky was well aware of his consequence, especially in front of a pretty woman. He would never countenance a negation from a hireling. And sure enough, the man puffed up to his full arrogance.
“Now see here, you work for me, and I declare this beautiful creature will tend Clary. Do I make myself clear?”
Bram clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep quiet. Meanwhile, Dicky held out his arm for Miss Bluebell Ballenger. “Come inside, my dear. Let us see what you have to offer.”
Bram was left to trail in their wake. Damn it. They were never getting to Scotland. He was never getting paid. And he blamed it entirely on the witch.
Chapter Two
Women can be clever too. And cruel. And exactly what youdeserve.
He was goingto be a problem, thought Maybelle, as she played the innocent miss taking an impressive man’s arm. Not the angelic looking Lord Linsel, who was angling his head to see down her bodice. She gave him just enough of a view to tantalize and no more. It was the other one, the tall one with the righteous air, who would be the difficulty. She’d met men like him before. Angry, prideful gentlemen who found every excuse to be annoying just because they could.
Fortunately, she’d been dealing with that type of mongrel all her life. The key was to align her goals with his, and therefore, they’d both get what they wanted.
He wanted her gone. She wanted to sell all of her potions and be gone. Therefore, she would simply have to recruit him to her purpose, and then they could both be happy.
She cast a winning smile over her shoulder at him. It would only irritate him further, but she took perverse joy in his glower. Lord, if the man would only smile, he would be devastatingly handsome. But no, he chose sour pudding, and she would laugh when she bested him.
“Is this your first child, milord?” she said, opening her eyes wide to make them appear more genuine.
“We hope. The others have not…well…Clary doesn’t carry a babe well. She’s delicate that way.”
“’Ow awful for you. My ’eart simply bleeds.”
Was that a snort she heard behind her? Ha. If he thought that ingenuous of her, he was in for an earful. She’d barely started buttering up the obviously rich Lord Linsel.
“It must ’ave been an important matter then,” she continued, “to travel when she is in a delicate way.”
“Oh yes,” the man said gravely. “I’m an important man, you see, and there are unsavory characters who are after me. Hence the gentleman behind us.”
She wondered if that were true or just pretense. Either way, she could see why the innkeeper was in such a tizzy to see them happy. Rich travelers were windfalls for the entire village, and everyone was thinking of ways to bilk them.
They passed through the kitchen where she gave Mrs. Garwick a reassuring smile. She’d make sure everyone got a fair share of this fat bunny. Meanwhile, Mr. Garwick bustled forward, his face flushed and his hands knotted from swollen joints. He started to speak, but Maybelle shook her head. Instead, she patted his arm as they passed by him, making sure to press a tisane into his hands as thanks for calling her.
It was no great sacrifice. She had a half dozen more that would never sell before she left.
