Page 21 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
And yet…
Her neighbor came thundering up the road. Mr. Bray was a good man with seven children and big, thick fists. She’d sold her goat and chickens to him for less than they were worth, and he was as close to a father as she’d ever had. His face was set into murderous lines as he came at them, an ax held in his fists.
The moment they saw him, Mr. Hallowsby raised his hands and stepped back. Then he stilled while Mr. Bray slowed, his great chest heaving. The man looked back and forth between them. He saw her dirty dress and mussed hair, and his mouth set in grim lines.
“Wot’s to-do ’ere?” he demanded.
“A misunderstanding, is all,” Mr. Hallowsby said, keeping his hands raised high.
Mr. Bray looked to her. “Bluebell?”
“He didn’t hurt me,” she said slowly. “He just…” She swallowed. Never would she say aloud that he had licked her.
Mr. Hallowsby slowly let his hands down. “Just confused you?” he prompted. “Startled you?”
“Did ’e touch you?” Mr. Bray demanded.
“Yes. Yes! I tried to punch him, and ’e caught me—”
“I kept her fists away from me. And when she began kicking, I flipped her around.” Mr. Hallowsby slowly moved his hands through the motions he’d made.
Mr. Bray straightened, though he kept the ax ready. “Why’d you punch ’im, Bluebell?”
“He called me…” She could not say courtesan. First of all, Mr. Bray probably didn’t even know the word, and she would not say whore. “He said I lie.”
“We’re good Christian folk, sir. I’ve known Bluebell all ’er life, and there’s no lie to ’er. I suggest you go on back to—”
“He’s going to buy Mina to take that fancy carriage to London.” And right there she was suddenly aware of how easily the lie came to her lips. Except, it wasn’t really a lie because he was going to buy her horse. He’d have no choice with Mr. Bray looking so threatening.
“I never said that,” Mr. Hallowsby stated.
“There ain’t others that would serve,” she said firmly.
Mr. Bray nodded. “Everbody else needs their cattle. Mina’s a good horse. Worth…” He looked to her.
“Fifty pounds,” she said.
Mr. Hallowsby’s hands went down. “Fifty pounds! For that nag?”
“Yessir,” Mr. Bray agreed. “Fifty pounds.”
Maybelle felt her lips curve. She’d learned the basics of selling from Mr. Bray. And the first thing he’d taught her was that a thing was worth whatever someone would pay. No more and no less. And right now, Mr. Hallowsby would pay exactly fifty pounds for Mina.
She watched the understanding build in Mr. Hallowsby’s body—not his face—as he understood the situation. His shoulders tightened, and his feet slid slightly apart as if he were about to fight. His hands even tightened into fists, but he planted those on his hips rather than lift them. She knew fromexperience that if Mr. Hallowsby ever chose to fight, he would move much faster than she could see coming. So that meant he would pay, though it clearly angered him.
Good.
She was angry too.
“Fine. Fifty pounds,” he ground out.
“Pay it now, if you please,” Mr. Bray said, all smiles, though he never lowered that ax.
“This is robbery, plain and simple.”
She was about to argue, but she needn’t have bothered. Mr. Bray was before her, lifting his chin. “It were a misunderstanding, yes?”
Mr. Hallowsby met the man’s eyes, and the two stared at one another. Maybelle tried to comprehend what was passing between the two, but she couldn’t. It was as silent as the grave. But in the end, Mr. Hallowsby’s gaze dropped.
