Page 94 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
Bluebell lifted her shoulders. “I try, but there’s been little money.” There was a bite of accusation in her tone.
“But you managed an education,” cut in Eleanor gently. “Bram said you have a man’s knowledge of agriculture and a lady’s way with possets.”
“That’s how we survived. We had a garden, of course. Everyone does, but I began mixing possets for Mum when she got the headache. They were good, I sold them.”
“Commerce!” spat the earl.
Bram’s voice was excruciatingly dry. “And how else were they to live, abandoned in Hull with no money and denied her birthright?”
“Now, see here—” began the earl, but Eleanor stopped the tirade with a cluck of her tongue.
“Really, Bram, I know you were taught better manners. Cease harping at him.” She smiled brightly at Bluebell. “What of mathematics? Do I remember that correctly? You studied that, and Latin, too.”
Of course, Eleanor remembered correctly, but Bluebell nodded. “Cyphering came easily to me, so I managed the money—”
The earl released a strangled sound which was cut off by his wife.
“The cucumber is excellent, don’t you think, Reuben? I vow our own cook is too heavy-handed with the dill. Go on. Take a bite.”
And to Bram’s shock, the earl took an obedient bite. Steady, precise, military-style bites until the sandwich was finished, though he glared at everyone while doing it.
“What I really enjoy,” continued Bluebell, “is philosophy. I couldn’t understand it in Greek. I tried, but it was too hard to learn on my own.”
Eleanor set down her teacup with a click. “I should think so.”
And the countess blinked back tears. “Oscar tried to teach me Greek. I could never make heads nor tails of it. But he loved it so.”
“That’s what Mum said. He would read to her in Greek because she liked the sound of it. She said he had the most beautiful voice when he read.”
“Oh yes,” the countess agreed. “He did.” But then she frowned. “I don’t understand. Why do you say there was no money?”
“Because there was none. A Christmas gift ever’ year that paid our rent. But how we lived and ate…” She shook her head. “We had to find that on our own.”
The lady looked down at her hand. “And still you managed to learn philosophy and mathematics. Amazing. Did your mother teach you?”
That apparently was too much for the earl. He stiffened and swallowed his last bite. “Of course not. An ignorant chit, if there ever was one.”
Well, that was progress. He’d all but admitted to the relationship, if not the marriage. But Bluebell didn’t hear that. Instead, she stiffened at the insult to her mother.
“Mum could read and write and taught me the same. She had other knowledge—practical bits on how to keep a house and serve tea.”
The countess brightened considerably at that. “You know how to serve tea?”
“I know the steps,” Bluebell hedged. “But I never did it except for my mum. And we didn’t stand on formality often.”
Meanwhile, Eleanor set another cucumber sandwich in the earl’s hand. “But how did you learn the other things?”
“There was a tutor who came through ever’ few weeks. Mum washed his clothes in exchange for teaching me.” She smiled, flashing her dimples. “He would use me to shame the boys into studying. ‘How can a little slip of a girl know so much more than you?’ he’d say. It’s a sad state when a—” Her voice caught, and Bram’s gaze left the earl to study her expression. She was pressing her lips tightly together, and that told him all he needed to know about the rest of the sentence.
But the others didn’t.
“Go on,” the countess prompted. “A sad state when what?”
Bluebell shook her head. “It’s not important.”
The hell it wasn’t. That was why they were here in the first place. “It’s a sad state when a bastard girl of no account knows more than a boy,” Bram said.
The countess’s eyes widened in horror, but it was Eleanor who released a heavy sigh. “Bram, please. I’ve asked you not to—”
