Page 86 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“Of course it is,” Bluebell said, proving the point by speaking slowly and clearly.
“She’s been practicing,” Bram began.
“Not enough.”
True. “But that’s why you’re here. You’re going to help her.”
“I was measuring how much training she needs.” She lifted her hands as if it were a futile effort. “She knows nothing.”
“I know a lot!”
Eleanor didn’t even look at Bluebell. “Don’t raise your voice. If we’re to convince the earl you are the real thing, you must perform exactly as the lady you claim to be.”
“I don’t have to perform. I’m his grandchild.”
“And if you appear no better than a Cockney rat? If you don’t make the man bend far, he may accept you.”
“But I am his grandchild,” she repeated.
“And when,” Bram interrupted, “have you ever been served by the truth?”
He held her gaze, silently reminding her that she’d just spun a tale about his exploits. More than one, if he included the nonsense about Dicky’s escape and the damned pig. They both knew that no one cared about the truth. Only reputation mattered.
She grimaced. “I will practice harder.”
Eleanor nodded. “See that you do.” Then she turned to him. “Very well, Bram. Leave her to me. Send word when you have done what is needed.”
He blinked. “What is needed?”
“You’ll have to intimidate the earl somehow. Frighten his dog or gather whatever secrets he’s hiding. I think he’s fond of his horses.”
“What kind of man do you think I am?”
“One who will stop at nothing to see justice done for Miss Ballenger.”
He grimaced. “I am not a miracle worker.”
Bluebell gave him a smile. The kind that lit up her face. And the room. And his organ. “Yes, you are,” she said. “And you already promised to help.”
“I have helped,” he said irritably. “I brought you to Eleanor.”
“Exactly,” the ladies cried together. It was disconcerting.
Meanwhile, Eleanor waved to Seelye, who had somehow appeared at the door. “Now leave her to me while you do what you do.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do anything.”
“Of course not,” his sister said as she winked at him. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“And with me!” Bluebell said, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
And on that ridiculous note, he was shown to the door. He fumed silently as he traversed London. He was achy and his feet hurt when he finally arrived at his tiny bachelor room. All he wanted was to lie down and not wake up for a week.
Instead, he nearly tripped over Dicky and Clarissa.
“Bloody hell.”
Chapter Sixteen
