Page 85 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
Meanwhile, Eleanor was hanging on every word. “He threw his knives to frighten the pig? Brilliant!”
Bluebell nodded, her gaze flicking to him before looking away. She knew she was creating another story out of whole cloth.
“Is that what you did to Lord Haims? Threw your knife at him?”
“I only learned the skill recently and am not very good at it.”
“He’s marvelous,” Bluebell said.
Eleanor nodded. “He tries to keep what he does a secret, but everyone knows.” She leaned forward. “Did you see him breathe fire?”
“What? No!”
“Learned it from a gypsy. When he needs to, he can incinerate them with his breath.”
Bluebell didn’t speak, obviously trying to accept such a preposterous statement.
“So is that what you did to Lord Haims?” Eleanor pressed.
“Which? Throw my knives or incinerate him with my foul breath.”
Eleanor giggled in that musical way she had. It was obviously practiced. When she was little, she had a laugh like a braying donkey. “Either one. Or both!”
He sighed, deciding to tell the full truth this time. “Neither. I know a secret about him. One I would expose if he didn’t do whatwas right and moral by his child. A man who wants to lead the country ought to take responsibility for his offspring.”
“What was the secret?”
“Gambling debt, most likely,” said Bluebell.
Eleanor shook her head. “Too many people would know about that. Entire fortunes have been won and lost on the green baize. Nothing could be more common.”
Bluebell nodded, though she was obviously thinking hard. “Not if Mr. Hallowsby bought up the markers. Imagine the scandal if this lord lost his fortune to a bastard.”
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Of course. Of course!”
If he could collect the markers for a fortune, he’d have bought a small property with it. Someplace outside of London to live in peace with a dozen dogs. He certainly wouldn’t have traveled to Hull with Dicky and Clarissa. But logic didn’t seem to have any sway here.
“Ladies, if I share, then Lord Haims will take back his support. And Jenny deserves better.”
Eleanor lifted her hands. “She’s married, and the dowry already paid. What could—”
Bluebell reached forward, touching Eleanor’s arm. “But don’t you see? Her husband is a barrister. Couldn’t Lord Haims malign him? Make it so he couldn’t work?”
Eleanor nodded. “I suppose so. But I won’t tell.”
“It don’t work that way,” Bluebell said. “He can’t tell a soul.”
Which was the perfect way to silence Eleanor. Not the statement. He’d said something similar time and again, but everyone swore they wouldn’t tell. They could keep a secret. Which is exactly what Eleanor would have said if only Bluebell had used correct English.
But she hadn’t. And so Eleanor narrowed her eyes and released a sigh of disappointment. “So she hasn’t been gently reared.”
“Of course she has,” Bram said. “But it was in Hull.”
“Well, we can’t say that. No one of any interest ever comes from Hull.”
“I’m a good Christian soul!” Bluebell cried.
Eleanor waved that aside. “I thought you were speaking too clearly. I knew it wasn’t natural for you.”
