Page 95 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
“It’s what they said, isn’t it, Bluebell? You weren’t even allowed to use your real name, were you? How old were you when you found out your true name?”
She looked at him, and he saw misery. He saw an entire lifetime of being slighted and abused simply because her father hadn’t been there to protect her. He knew. He’d experienced some of the hatred, but at least he’d known his father. He’d felt some kindness from the man. And some protection. Which was a good deal more than Bluebell had ever gotten.
“Just tell them the truth,” he said softly. “It’s why we’re here.”
So, holding his gaze, she nodded. “Everyone called me Bluebell. It was just a few months ago when I learned I had more of a name. Mum told me everything this winter. She said…” Her gaze shifted to the earl, and it turned hard and cold. “She said that she and my father were married right and proper in the church, but that the earl was a cold and angry man. He’d had her shipped off to Hull, quiet-like. A few coins every Christmas to pay the rent, and only if she never told anyone of the connection.”
She looked at the countess, her eyes bright with anger. “Mum changed us from Ballenger to Ball. I was christened Maybelle Ballenger in secret, and we lived.”
“But there’s always been a shadow,” Bram continued for her. “Everyone in her little village thinks she’s a bastard. Do you know what that’s like? To live in a little place like that and never be treated as an equal? Laughter is the easiest of the problems. Without a father, people try to take advantage. There was no oneto defend them, you see. A woman and a child alone with no money and no family. Do you know what happens?”
They didn’t. They couldn’t. But he could guess. That she’d survived and even thrived was a miracle. And a testament to Bluebell’s strength.
“She needs to be recognized,” he said harshly. “She needs the shadow removed.”
The countess was shaking her head. “But why wasn’t there enough money? I sent a hundred pounds every Christmas.”
The earl stiffened at that. “You!”
She set aside her teacup with a wobbly hand. “Of course me. I wasn’t going to let my grandchild starve!”
“Enough to pay the year’s rent, my lady,” Bluebell said. “But it wasn’t enough in the last few years. The landlord kept raising the price.”
“Raising the price,” she echoed softly, and Bram could tell it never occurred to her that prices could change. That money one year wouldn’t be enough in the next. He sighed.
Bloody idiot.
Meanwhile, it appeared that Bluebell was just now realizing that everything she’d hoped was true. She was legitimate. Her grandparents had known she was alive, and her grandmother, at least, had taken steps to keep her that way. Bram could see warring emotions run through her expression: joy against hatred, hope against fury.
“So my father is truly gone?”
The countess looked away. She didn’t cry, but the sorrow that surrounded her seemed to scream out of every pore. He abruptly remembered that his mother had once called her a loud woman, brash and wild. There was nothing of that left now. Only an aching sadness.
“Sarah,” the earl said, his voice thick. “We should go.”
“No,” she said, her voice getting stronger as she faced off with her husband. “Absolutely not.” Then she turned to Bluebell. “We were too late to stop the wedding. I won’t tell you what was said when we finally got there. Suffice it to say that…well, that Oscar loved your mother and would not set her aside.”
Bluebell nodded, and Bram detected a sheen of tears in her eyes. “That’s what Mum said.”
“But Reuben…” She shot a look at her husband. Bram couldn’t interpret it fully, but it was both an apology and an accusation. “Reuben sent her away and later told Oscar…” She swallowed. “Wetold Oscar she’d died in childbirth.”
Bluebell’s mouth opened in shock, but it was Eleanor who said what everyone was thinking. “That’s why he never contacted her again. He thought she’d died.”
“Yes,” the countess continued. “He got sick soon after that. A broken heart perhaps.”
“Stuff and nonsense!” the earl said. And though his words were strong, his body had deflated. The shoulders that had been held rigidly taut now slumped into his chest.
“He grew sick and…and…”
Eleanor touched the countess’s arm. “He passed, and you have grieved as every mother would. He was your light, wasn’t he? The one who always made you smile.”
Bram had no idea how Eleanor could know that, but the countess nodded and made no attempt to hide her tears. It was a heartbreaking scene, and he had no wish to pile more grief onto the pair, but there was more to the story.
“But you paid their Christmas gift every year,” Bram pushed. “You knew she was alive. That they both were alive.”
The woman shook her head. “I didn’t know where. I’ve never known where they were, but I instructed our solicitor to send the money. I couldn’t think of Oscar’s child living like a filthy beggar. I couldn’t—”
“But you set the terms, my lady, didn’t you? Even if you went through the solicitor, you told Bluebell and her mother that there would be no more money if anyone found out. If she came forward to demand an explanation.”
