Page 113 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
His eyes narrowed. She was getting blurry around the edges. “Tell me,” he ordered.
“I loved your father. And I’m fairly sure he loved me.”
Bram stared at her. He replayed the words over and over in his brain until they slipped in past the gin. And when they did, all he could say was, “Wha—?”
“It was the happiest day of my life when I found out I was with child. Second only to the day you were born.”
He blinked twice to force her into focus. It didn’t work.
“I don’t regret any of it. The love. The sex. The scandal. None of it. And I would do it again.”
“You hate my father. You said so. Often.”
“He was dead by then. I could say what I wanted.”
Bram shook his head. It felt ten times too large, and his stomach sloshed when he did it, but he kept denying her words. “You hated him. Hated that he got you pregnant. Ruined your looks. Got a babe with no one to help.”
She sighed. “No, dear. I hated what I had to do after he let me go. I hated that he left me with so little money.”
“He gave you thousands per annum.”
She nodded and pressed a wet cloth to his mouth. He shook it away even though it did feel nice. Then he grabbed her wrist as much to steady himself as to hold her still. “You loved him?”
“Yes. And if you have to sneak around in private behind some doddering husband, then you should do that. You shall have the woman you want, even if she’s married to someone else.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Mum,no. It’ll kill her. She’s a good Christian woman. Says it often enough.”
“What does that matter? Do you know how many Christian men have graced my bed? Ladies too.”
He didn’t want to think of that. Didn’t want to sully Bluebell with those thoughts. “I already ruined her, Mum. I can’t make her live like…like…”
“Like all the other married women of theton? Like all the other ladies you’ve bedded? Unhappy wives who hate their husbands?”
“Yes, damn you, yes! That’s not Bluebell.”
“Isn’t that her choice? Did you seduce her, Bram? Or did she pull you into her bed?”
Bram didn’t answer, but his face must have made the truth obvious.
“She wanted this life, Bram. She brought you all the way across England for it. And everything has worked out just as she said.”
He didn’t like his own words thrown back at him. “She’s not like that. She’s pure.”
“Not anymore,” his mother drawled.
“I ruined her.”
“Or…she chose to be ruined.” She touched his face. It was so close to what Bluebell did that he nearly cried. “She wants you.”
“She’s not like you!” he snapped, then immediately regretted it when his mother’s face closed down. Her lips compressed, and she looked away.
“Mum, I’m sorry—”
“Why must men always think in extremes? I can love even as a mistress. Especially as a mistress because I choose my protector.”
