Redeeming the Marquess Page 10

  Frankly, everything about Miss Bentley was driving him mad. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her and her situation. Blazes, he thought. Life had been so much less complicated without Miss Bentley.

  His valet extended him a white cravat. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “I did not.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.”

  Roswell stepped over to the mirror and started tying his cravat, hoping his valet would take the hint and leave him be. He was not so lucky.

  Benham eyed him curiously. “Was there a reason you did not sleep well?”

  “No,” Roswell replied.

  “Understood, my lord.”

  Roswell paused. “Why are women such infuriating creatures?”

  “I’m afraid I cannot answer that question,” Benham said. “I believe it is one that is as old as time.”

  “Quite right,” Roswell responded.

  “Is there a particular lady who is irritating you?”

  Roswell shrugged on his blue riding jacket. “I just can’t seem to make sense of Miss Bentley.”

  “The young woman your mother is hosting for the Season?”

  “Yes, and she is…” Roswell trailed off as he tried to think of the right word. Finally, he settled on, “Maddening.”

  “What do you take issue with?”

  “The problem is that every time I think I’m beginning to understand her, she goes and does something truly unexpected.”

  Benham bobbed his head in understanding. “That would be rather vexing.”

  Roswell walked over to the door and opened it. “I will rest much easier when Miss Bentley no longer resides under this roof.”

  “I would imagine that to be the case,” Benham replied.

  As Roswell headed towards the parlor on the first floor, he hoped that Miss Bentley would not be joining him for breakfast. He wished to avoid her unless it was absolutely necessary to speak to her. If he was lucky, she might not even remember what they discussed last night.

  His steps faltered as he entered the room and saw Miss Bentley sitting at the table, her face lighting up when she saw him. Or had he just imagined that? Either way, he found it rather unsettling.

  “Good morning, Miss Bentley,” Roswell greeted as he stepped over to the buffet.

  “Good morning, my lord,” she replied, putting her fork down. “I trust you slept well.”

  “I never sleep well.” Why had he just admitted that? He needed to be better about curbing his tongue around Miss Bentley.

  “Why is that?”

  Roswell took his plate and sat at the head of the table. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

  “I understand.” Miss Bentley reached for her cup of chocolate and took a sip. After putting the cup down, she admitted, “I think my favorite part about residing here is the chocolate.”

  “You are easy to please, then.”

  Miss Bentley wiped the sides of her mouth with her napkin. “I was thinking about what we discussed last night.”

  Roswell stifled a groan. He did not want to have this conversation with her. “I’m not sure if now is the right time to discuss this.”

  “I was just hoping to ask you a few questions, and I assure you that they are not too personal.”

  Roswell frowned. “You may ask ten questions.”

  “Only ten?” she repeated back.

  “I believe I am being rather generous, considering I would prefer to eat my breakfast in silence.”

  “Where is the fun in that?” she asked.

  “Breakfast is not meant to be fun, and that was one of your questions,” he said. “You now have nine questions remaining.”

  Miss Bentley pressed her lips together in a tight line as she mulled over her next question. “Do you engage in the usual pastimes for men, such as boxing and hunting?”

  “I do not enjoy boxing, and I haven’t been hunting since my father died.”

  “What occupies your time, then?”

  “I work,” he replied. “You now have seven questions left.”

  “You must do other things besides work?”

  “Nothing else matters,” he said. “I have tenants who are relying on me to make critical decisions, and what I do now could affect generations to come.”

  “Don’t you employ a steward?”

  “I do, but I am the one who is ultimately responsible.”

  Miss Bentley studied him for a moment before saying, “Your mother mentioned you hate social gatherings. Why is that?”

  “I tire of all the snares and traps set by mothers who are desperate to marry their daughter to a man of means.”

  “But the goal of social gatherings is to have fun.”

  “Not for young women and their mothers,” Roswell asserted. “They use that time to prove their daughters are more accomplished than the rest.”

  “You ride, though,” Miss Bentley said.

  “I do,” he replied. “It is one of the few things that brings some enjoyment in my life.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It is because I am alone and no one is bothering me with pesky questions,” Roswell answered, giving her a pointed look. “You have three questions left.”

  “Mr. Cosgrove mentioned that you both went to university together.”

  “Is there a question in there?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “Did you enjoy your time there?”

  He nodded. “I did,” he replied. “I studied philosophy while there.”

  “You did?”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “I just can’t seem to imagine you as a philosopher.”

  Roswell grinned. “I studied philosophy. I never said I was a philosopher; and you are down to your last question.”

  Miss Bentley looked unsure as she asked, “Will you join Mr. Cosgrove and I on our ride through Hyde Park?”

  “No,” came the swift reply. “I ride alone.”

  “But Mr. Cosgrove mentioned you used to race through Hyde Park together.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Roswell’s words came out much harsher than he had intended, but it made what he said no less true.

  Miss Bentley gave him a weak smile. “I just thought it might be fun to ride through Hyde Park together.”

  “What transpired between us last night does not make us friends,” Roswell said in a lowered voice.

  His words had the desired effect, as he could see the hurt on Miss Bentley’s delicate features. “I understand, my lord,” she muttered.

  Now he felt like a brute.

  “Miss Bentley—” he attempted.

  She placed her hand up, stilling his words. “Please do not say anything,” she replied, her words soft. “You made your point.”

  “You must believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to be friends with me.”

  “Why is that?”

  He met her gaze. “It is much simpler that way,” he replied. “I would just find ways to continue disappointing you, time and time again.”

  “It is a chance that I am willing to take.”

  “Why?” Roswell asked.

  Miss Bentley shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose I don’t have a lot of friends.”

  “I can’t imagine that to be true.”

  “I’m afraid all of my friends abandoned me once Lord Worthington started pressuring me to marry him,” she shared.

  “That was wrong of them.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  Roswell had the strangest urge to pull Miss Bentley into his arms and provide her with much needed comfort. But that was a ridiculous notion.

  “I’d better prepare for my ride with Mr. Cosgrove,” Miss Bentley said, rising.

  Roswell pushed back his chair and also rose. “Are you riding alone with Cosgrove?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “We are just riding through Hyde Park.”

  That thought did not sit well with him. Cosgrove may be an honorable man, but he didn’t want
anything to jeopardize Miss Bentley’s chances to marry this Season.

  Before he knew what he was about, Roswell said, “I shall join you for your ride.”

  Miss Bentley gave him a peculiar look. “Are you in earnest, my lord?”

  “I am.”

  “Then I shall see you shortly.”

  He nodded. “I will notify Thorne to saddle my horse.”

  A smile came to Miss Bentley’s face. “We shall have such fun.”

  After she departed from the room, Roswell lowered himself onto the chair and groaned. What was it about Miss Bentley that made him lose rational thought? Now he had to go on a blasted ride through Hyde Park with her.

  “He agreed to what?” Emma asked as she sat on the settee in Ellie’s bedchamber.

  Ellie smiled. “Your brother agreed to accompany me when I go riding with Mr. Cosgrove through Hyde Park.”

  Emma gave her a blank look. “And he did so willingly?”

  “He did.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t threaten him?”

  “I am.”

  “This just doesn’t make any sense. Roswell rides alone,” Emma said. “How did you convince him?”

  “I just asked him.”

  “And he agreed to it?”

  “Not at first, and he insisted that we weren’t friends.”

  “That does sound like my brother,” Emma conceded.

  “After I explained that I don’t have too many friends, he seemed to soften towards me,” Ellie shared.

  “That’s odd,” Emma said. “Did something else transpire between you two?”

  Not wanting to betray Lord Bideford’s confidence, Ellie replied vaguely, “We have only spoken on a handful of occasions.” There; although it was a partial truth, it wasn’t a lie, either.

  “Would you like for me to join you on your ride through Hyde Park?”

  “You are welcome to join us, but won’t your mother be disappointed if you miss all the gentlemen who will be calling on you today?”

  Emma frowned. “I hate sitting around in the drawing room and waiting for callers. It’s dreadfully boring.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “If I have to embroider one more handkerchief with my initials on it, I believe I might literally go mad.”

  “You poor thing,” Ellie teased.

  Emma smiled. “You are only getting a reprieve because you’re going riding with Mr. Cosgrove.”

  “That I am.”

  “Are you interested in him as a suitor?”

  “Frankly, I am interested in everyone, since they are surely better than Lord Worthington.”

  “Mr. Cosgrove is rather handsome.”

  “That he is,” Ellie replied. “I wouldn’t mind looking at his face for the remainder of my days.”

  Emma smirked. “The only fault that I can see in him is that he is a poor judge of character.”

  “He is?”

  With a bob of her head, Emma replied, “Yes, because he is a good friend of my brother’s.”

  Ellie giggled. “That is terrible of you to say.”

  “It makes it no less true,” Emma joked.

  A knock came at the door, interrupting their conversation.

  “Enter,” Emma ordered.

  The door opened and a maid walked in. She met Ellie’s gaze and announced, “Mr. Cosgrove has arrived, and is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

  “Thank you,” Ellie replied as she smoothed down her blue riding habit.

  Emma gave her a knowing look as the maid departed from the room. “Are you nervous?”

  “I am,” she admitted.

  “That’s a good sign.”

  “It is?”

  Emma smiled up at her. “It means you have something to lose.”

  Tossing her hands up in the air, Ellie declared, “I have everything to lose.”

  “Don’t look at it that way,” Emma encouraged. “Have an enjoyable time but do remember that everyone is watching you.”

  Ellie swallowed nervously. “You are terrible at giving encouraging speeches.”

  “You are going to Hyde Park,” Emma said. “You will be on display, even though you are not going during the fashionable hour. Gossips are always waiting to pounce on the latest scandal.”

  “Again,” Ellie said, “you are terrible at this.”

  Emma laughed. “I am just stating the truth,” she replied. “Besides, you are most fortunate that Roswell will be going with you. I have no doubt he will be a dutiful chaperone.”

  Ellie nodded as she walked over to the door. “It is just a ride through Hyde Park,” she replied. “I have no reason to be nervous.”

  Emma opened her mouth to object, so Ellie continued. “No reason at all.” She opened the door. “I will inform you at once when I return.”

  “See that you do,” Emma said. “Most likely, I will be in the drawing room.”

  “No doubt surrounded by a horde of gentlemen.”

  Emma gave her an amused look. “Be off with you and do try to enjoy yourself.”

  After she departed from the room, Ellie hurried towards the drawing room on the main level. She had just stepped into the room when she heard Lord Bideford declare in a gruff voice, “There you are. I was just about to go get you myself.”

  “I do apologize for keeping you waiting,” Ellie replied, taken aback.

  Mr. Cosgrove gave her a reassuring smile as he approached her. “Do not listen to my friend here,” he said, stopping in front of her. “You are most definitely worth the wait, my dear.”

  Lord Bideford huffed. “Shall we get this blasted ride over with?”

  “Language, my good man,” Mr. Cosgrove chided as he turned to face Lord Bideford. “We have a lady present.”

  “My apologies,” Lord Bideford muttered.

  Mr. Cosgrove returned his attention to Ellie and offered his arm. “I saw the groom bring your horse out front,” he informed her. “Would you care to ride now?”

  “I would,” she replied as she accepted his arm.

  Mr. Cosgrove escorted her from the townhouse and down the stairs towards the awaiting groom. “May I assist you onto your horse?” he asked.

  “I would be honored.”

  Mr. Cosgrove intertwined his fingers and leaned down. Ellie placed her riding boot into his hands and he gently assisted her onto the side saddle. After she was situated, the groom extended the reins towards her.

  Once they were all mounted, they proceeded towards Hyde Park, which was only a few blocks away. Passing through one of the entrances, they started walking the horses down the path, with Ellie between the two men.

  Mr. Cosgrove glanced over at her. “Where do you hail from?” he asked.

  “I am from Maidstone.”

  “I’m afraid I am not familiar with Maidstone.”

  “It’s in Kent, only a few hours journey from London by coach.”

  Mr. Cosgrove bobbed his head. “Did you enjoy growing up there?”

  “I did,” Ellie replied. “The manor I grew up in was near the River Medway, and I used to spend many hours fishing with my father.”

  “You fished with your father?” Mr. Cosgrove asked with a lifted brow.

  Ellie smiled. “I know it is rather unconventional for a young woman to fish, but it allowed my father and I to spend time together,” she shared. “You see, he was an avid fly fisherman.”

  “And your mother didn’t object?”

  “Not at all; she would even join us on occasion,” she said. “Furthermore, my father used to read The Compleat Angler to us over dinner.”

  Lord Bideford spoke up. “I am not familiar with that book.”

  “It teaches about the sport of fly fishing and the significance of it,” she explained.

  With a furrowed brow, Lord Bideford asked, “There is a book on that?”

  Ellie laughed. “There is a book on everything, my lord.”

  Lord Bideford cracked a smile at her remark. “I suppose there is, Miss Bentley.”


  “I wasn’t particularly good at fishing,” Ellie said as she adjusted the reins in her gloved hand, “but I did enjoy spending time by the river with my father.”

  “My father would go fishing at a pond near our country home,” Mr. Cosgrove shared, “but I was more interested in catching pollywogs and frogs by hand than fish.”

  “Weren’t we all?” Lord Bideford asked.

  Ellie glanced over at Lord Bideford. “I’m afraid I am having a hard time imagining you catching frogs by the water.”

  Mr. Cosgrove laughed loudly. “Roswell used to put frogs in our tutor’s satchels when we were at Eton together.”

  “Truly?” Ellie asked.

  Lord Bideford nodded. “I only put frogs in the satchels of the tutors we didn’t like,” he smiled, without a hint of remorse, “which were quite a few.”

  “When Roswell put a frog in the headmaster’s soup, I thought he would be expelled,” Mr. Cosgrove shared. “Instead, he just got ten lashes with the belt.”

  “That sounds painful,” Ellie expressed.

  Lord Bideford winced. “It most assuredly was,” he replied. “I’m afraid I couldn’t sit for days.”

  “Yet that didn’t stop Roswell from getting into trouble,” Mr. Cosgrove joked, “and his pranks continued even when we went to Oxford.”

  “I was not the only one who got into trouble at Eton,” Lord Bideford revealed.

  Mr. Cosgrove gave her a rueful smile. “I had no qualms about sneaking out with the other boys. We would go drinking in the woodlands near our dormitory.”

  “Weren’t you afraid of getting caught?” she asked.

  “We did, all the time, in fact,” Mr. Cosgrove replied, his smile growing. “I still wouldn’t go back and change a thing.”

  Lord Bideford chuckled. “We were quite the troublemakers back in the day.”

  “That we were,” Mr. Cosgrove agreed.

  Ellie’s horse whinnied, drawing her attention. “It seems my horse is anxious to stretch her legs.”

  “By all means, lead the way,” Mr. Cosgrove said.

  11

  With the afternoon sun streaming into his study, Roswell sat at his desk as he reviewed the pile of correspondence in front of him. He was continually amazed by the sheer number of missives he received each day. Some requested his time, others requested his money, but they all seemed to want something from him.