Page 70 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
So the parent generation was dead or hidden away in the country. What about the grandparents? The countess was a kind woman with sharp eyes and a love of fashion. She had doted on her children, and with them gone, was now lost in a vague melancholy of age.
Unless another child presented herself, one that was lively and smart, who could be dressed up and give her a reason to throw balls. The daughter of her second son, a beauty that could have a Season with all the pomp of a true English rose.
Bluebell. The legitimate granddaughter of an earl.
It boggled his mind. And it also presented an opportunity. After all, the Ballengers were wealthy people. They would, of course, dower their grandchild with a respectable amount of money.
What if he married Bluebell and presented it as a fait accompli? If he made sure she was his before she was presented to her grandfather and accepted as one of their own. If he seduced her in the right way, then it could be done. And he could have everything he’d always wanted. Money, status, and Bluebell in his bed.
The temptation burned through him. He wanted it as deeply, as sincerely, as he’d once wanted Cara. And that set him back on his heels.
Whenever things had appeared to go his way, whenever a gift came from the heavens—it had all gone sour eventually. There were no gifts, not without strings attached. Cara had been a lie wrapped in a pretty package.
Bluebell was no deceiver, but she was still a lie. She’d been thrown to Hull to be raised in ignorance, which meant the earl’s family wanted no part of her. And no matter his temptation to marry her now, no matter the urge to bed her and force the earl to recognize his granddaughter, it wouldn’t work. Because it never worked.
Which meant despite everything, he had to pack her back to Hull and her life there. She had her letter from the vicar. She had proof she was legitimate. She could leave now and go marry the vicar’s son as she’d wanted.
So that was his plan. He would send her away and be done with pretty packages wrapped around a lie.
Chapter Thirteen
Truth is a fierce weapon. But first, everyone must believeit.
It was true!Everything her mother had told her was true! She was the granddaughter of the Earl of Cavener.
She looked back at Mr. Hallowsby, saw his stunned face, and everything in her grew even brighter. He had doubted her. He had doubted her mother. But it was true, and now, by God, she would go to London and demand to know why she’d grown up unacknowledged in Hull.
“I must copy this page,” she said.
“Well, as to that,” the vicar said, “I could copy it and affix my name. But if someone doubts your true heritage, you will need a solicitor to make an official copy.”
“Thank you, sir. I shall certainly do that. But for now, I thank you for writing what you can.” She gave him her best smile, which happened to be especially bright right now.
“Certainly,” he said with an answering grin. And off the man went carrying the record book with him.
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. It was true. She’d had her doubts. Of course she had. And there was still so much that had to be answered, but—
“Tell me everything.”
She glanced up at Mr. Hallowsby’s gruff words. His face was tight, his jaw tense.
“I have told you—”
“Bollocks, you have not. Look, this is a dangerous game you’re playing. Do you think the Earl of Cavener is going to welcome you with open arms? Assuming this really is your mother’s name, he sent you to Hull for a reason. He might not like you coming back.”
“Assuming?” she sputtered. “Assuming! It bloody well is me mum!”
“Damn it, Bluebell, listen to me. It doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t you be recognized? Why haven’t you gone to a finishing school and been raised as you ought?”
“Well, that’s wot I want to know! I’m going t’ see ’im—”
“Mind yourh’s,” he snapped. Then he rubbed a hand over his face. “Bloody hell.”
“And you mind your language. I’m a lady, if you recall.”
“No, I don’t recall. And you’re nothing of the sort.”
She pulled herself up to her full height and stared down her nose at him, just like she’d seen Mrs. Pursley do to her. “I am indeed a lady. That’s what the book says.”
