Page 77 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
She waited for his answer. A nod. A breath. A flicker of his eye. Any clue to his thoughts.
And she waited.
And waited.
Chapter Fourteen
Bastards will find another way because they must. Some call them resourceful. Some call them cruel. Pick your bastardcarefully.
Bram experienced astrange moment of absolute clarity. He recognized determination in the deluded woman sitting across from him. And he knew he had a choice.
She saw him as a knight avenger of old. An idiot of the Round Table instead of a bastard with fast fists existing on the fringe of society. He was well used to people seeing what they wanted in him. Dicky saw him as a protector. Cara had seen him as a sap. And both had wanted to exploit him.
Bluebell was no different than they were. He was a means to her end as well, and yet something in her words called to him. Like a trumpet sound to battle. He could feel the weight of the armor she put on him as she asked him to rise to a noble cause. He could expose the wrong done to her mother. He could give her peace, if not exactly happiness.
“This will not turn out as you want,” he rasped, startled by how thick his throat felt. “The earl is a crotchety blighter. Never a kind word to anyone.”
She smiled at him as if being reviled by a powerful man meant nothing. “I will speak with him. I will demand justice for me and my mother. I will look him in the eye and say my piece.”
He shook his head. “It is a fool’s errand that will only end in tears.”
She dropped her chin on her fist, staring at him with an open expression. “You’re growing tiresome.”
“You’re not sitting up straight.”
“You’ll do it.” It wasn’t a question.
“What makes you so sure?”
She smiled again. A pure and simple smile. Her bonnet had fallen back, so the sun sparkled in her blue eyes and turned her hair to gold. He saw the curving bow of her mouth and the white of her even teeth.
Did he become her knight and fight for her justice? Or did he walk away?
She was right, damn her eyes. He was going to help her. He had no idea why except that she kindled a flame inside him. A warmth or an idiocy, he wasn’t sure which. But he liked the idea of doing something noble.
It should frighten him that he’d felt this same fire years ago with Cara. It did bother him. Blond women with blue eyes and sweet smiles. They were his downfall. Especially if they had a cause.
“I cannot do it alone,” he finally said.
She arched her brows, her smile widening into a grin. “Certainly we can—”
“But I know who will help. She can polish the worst of your rough edges and get us access.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need Eleanor.” He pushed up from the table. “Come on. It’s a long way yet to London.”
*
The ride toLondon was the most miserable experience of her life. It wasn’t just that they were shoved together on the inside of the mail coach. That was hard enough, but Mr. Hallowsby quizzed her on every inconsequential and ridiculous thing he could possibly dream up. How did one sit in the company of an earl? How did one use a fan when sharing tea? How did one stand without fidgeting in skirts that itched?
And when she complained, he said that Lady Eleanor would demand far worse, so she’d best get used to it.
She wanted to tell him to go to the devil. She wanted to look at London. But she also wanted to know what she should do if the gentleman sitting next to her stank of vomit. And what were the rudiments of breeding a good hunting dog?
“Why is this is important?” she cried for the thousandth time. “Why don’t you ask me about mathematics or sheep husbandry?”
“Because no one in society will care about that.” Then he cast a glaring eye at the young man stuffed in the coach along with them. “And what do you know about sheep?” She assumed the question was for her and not the young man, who flushed and looked away.
