Page 82 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“He’s being modest. It was the talk of thetonfor at least a week. Set up a decoy, and the murderer ran after the wrong person.”
“But wasn’t the decoy in danger?”
“Of course, but he was very fleet of foot and got away. The murderer got lost on the London streets, and Bram came up behind him and…” She clapped her hands.
Maybelle jolted. “What did you do?” she asked him.
Lady Eleanor answered instead. “Bram killed him, of course. The man was vile. The constable was very impressed and gave Bram a medal.”
“Really?”
“No, not really,” said Mr. Hallowsby, clearly exasperated.
“Bram never talks about it,” said his sister. “Bad form to talk about the people he protects. He’s very secretive, you know.”
No, she didn’t know. He’d never seemed that way to her. Especially if she listened closely. But Lady Eleanor was too busy talking over his exploits to even look at Bram.
“Eleanor, please, can we get to the business at hand?”
“No, no. I’m still working out what you did to help Dicky.”
“I gave them Dicky’s gold, that’s what, and off they went. They got what they wanted, Dicky and his wife stayed unharmed, and I managed to get paid.”
Eleanor frowned. “Well, that’s not very sporting.”
Maybelle was also frowning. “And that’s not what happened. He only pretended to give away all Lord Linsel’s money.”
“Oh! Very clever. And after Dicky got away, did you pursue the brutes? Do away with them?”
Mr. Hallowsby sighed. “Eleanor, when did you get so bloodthirsty?”
“I bet you beat them soundly. You’re ruthless when protecting someone.” She turned to Maybelle. “He did, didn’t he? He won’t say, so you’ll have to.”
“I never saw the men again,” Maybelle answered, knowing she was feeding Lady Eleanor’s imagination.
“You wouldn’t. Bram took care of them.”
“Eleanor,” he cut in. “Miss Ballenger is here to ask for your help.”
“Is she under your care? Is she in danger?” The woman sounded excited by the idea.
“No danger,” Mr. Hallowsby said firmly.
Maybelle shifted in her seat. “My mother was wronged, we think.”
Lady Eleanor set her cup down, her eyes bright. “Tell me everything.”
Finally.
Chapter Fifteen
Never have a back-up plan. Have at leastthree.
Bram watched Eleanorclosely as Bluebell told her tale. She did it with a storyteller’s natural talent, adding enough detail to make it sound real, and even letting her voice catch when she spoke of her mother. He knew he was being cynical. She did mourn her mother and she believed her tale. Still, it was impressive how she brought everyone—including him—into her story.
Except for that one problem.
“Was there a second son, Eleanor? A boy named Oscar?”
