Page 98 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“I’m a by-blow, Bluebell. We can’t see each other.” He spoke loudly so that Seelye would hear. So that when the butler told Eleanor about the kiss—and hewouldtell because servants always told—then Seelye would also say that Bram had called it off. That it was done between him and Bluebell. Bloody hell, he’d have to start calling her Maybelle now.
“I know who you are,” she said, lifting her chin in that defiant way of hers. “I don’t care.”
“It’s different now. You’re above my touch.” He looked at his hands. He’d never kiss her again. “It’s good we never went further,” he lied, but he had to make sure Seelye heard everything. “It’s all different now.”
“I’m not different. You’re not—”
“It is!” he bellowed. Then he moderated his tone. “You’ll have a Season now. I couldn’t be happier.” Lies on top of lies. “But that means we can’t even be friends.”
“Wot?”
He winced because she’d slipped, but he didn’t correct her. He hadn’t the right anymore. “Eleanor will explain it to you,” he said. “You’ll have your choice of eligible gentlemen now. Therewill be blighters aplenty.” He made a vow right then and there to keep the worst of the buggers away. Eleanor would have to tell him about her offers. He knew secrets that even Eleanor didn’t.
“Mr. Hallowsby,” Bluebell said. “Bram. You have been by my side from the beginning. I will not cut you off simply because I have changed.”
Of course not. Because she was at heart a good Christian woman in the best possible way. He’d tried to think the worst of her, but every day, every moment, she’d steadfastly proved herself better than he thought. Better than he’d thought possible.
“You won’t cut me off,” he said gruffly. “I’m doing it for you.”
“But—”
“We can’t know each other.” And the pain of those words cut deep.
Her expression tightened, becoming resolute. He swallowed and looked away. She appeared like a peer of the realm. There was no hesitation in her expression. Simply a strong, absolute clarity of purpose.
“Bluebell—” he whispered, mourning the loss of his country miss.
She walked slowly to him. He stood his ground and smelled her sweet scent. Odd that cranesbill flower clung to her here, even in London.
“I will not give you up,” she said.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Her mouth flattened while her gaze cut sideways to Seelye. He watched her eyes flicker and saw her fists tighten. When she spoke next, it was almost inaudible.
“Can you climb walls?”
“What?”
“Can you climb the side of this bloody house?”
He blinked at her. “Yes. And don’t curse.”
“Eleanor’s put me on the southern side. I’ll leave the window open.”
He pulled back, appalled by what she was saying. “I cannot—”
“Or I will climb out, Mr. Hallowsby, and wander the streets until I find you.”
He closed his eyes, doing his best not to envision the horrors that could befall her. “You are the granddaughter of an earl. It’s what you wanted. I will not let you throw that away.” Not for him. Not for a bastard. She was so much better than him, not only in status, but because she was at heart a good person.
Why hadn’t he seen that before? Why hadn’t he realized what a treasure she was? Would he have resisted her charms? Or tied her to him irrevocably?
He touched her face, stroking the soft skin of her cheek, letting his thumb caress the full red of her lower lip. “Maybelle,” he said softly. “You must know I cannot.”
She arched her brow. “I will wait until midnight. And then I will go looking. And if you call me anything but Bluebell, I will punch you in the stomach.”
He snorted. She was so fierce, this little nobody from Hull, who was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. And while he stood there fighting his baser nature, Eleanor breezed in, steel in her words for all that she sounded polite.
