Redeeming the Marquess Page 11

  He wished he could forget all this nonsense, but knew he was unable to do so. His title came with great responsibility, and he strived to take that seriously. Even then, he always had a gnawing voice in the back of his head that told him he wasn’t good enough, that he would fail spectacularly. He doubted he could ever become the man his father had envisioned him to be.

  As much as Roswell hated going on a ride with Miss Bentley earlier, it wasn’t as terrible as he’d thought it would be. She was quite lively, and he found himself engaged in whatever she was saying. Frankly, it was the respite he’d needed.

  If Cosgrove decided to offer for her, it wouldn’t be the most foolish thing he had done. But the thought of Miss Bentley accepting Cosgrove’s offer did not sit well with Roswell, though he wasn’t sure why. He knew that Miss Bentley needed to marry, and quickly, but was Cosgrove the right man for her?

  Thorne stepped into the room. “Mr. Manley has arrived to speak to you,” he announced.

  “Send him in,” Roswell ordered.

  While he waited for his solicitor to step into the room, Roswell put his correspondence to the side and adjusted his white cravat.

  His solicitor entered the room with a smile on his face. “Good afternoon, my lord,” Mr. Manley greeted cordially.

  Roswell couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Manley’s bushy sideburns had recently been trimmed, drawing attention to the thinning hair on the top of his head.

  “Thank you for coming so soon,” he said.

  Mr. Manley sat in one of the chairs that faced the desk, putting his satchel on the other. “Your letter implied that it was most urgent.”

  “It is.”

  “How may I help you?”

  Roswell leaned back in his chair. “My mother is hosting a young woman this Season who is in dire need of a solicitor.”

  “Dire need?” Mr. Manley repeated. “It must be important, then.”

  “It is,” Roswell replied. “Her father passed away, and I’m afraid the person who inherited his title refuses to honor the will.”

  “What does the will entail?”

  “According to Miss Bentley, she is entitled to a dowry of twenty thousand pounds and her mother is to receive a generous jointure.”

  “Did Miss Bentley explain why her father’s successor refuses to honor her father’s will?”

  Roswell shifted in his chair as he replied, “Yes, Lord Worthington intends to marry Miss Bentley himself.”

  Mr. Manley raised his eyebrows. “Did you say Lord Worthington?”

  “I did.”

  A frown came to Mr. Manley’s lips. “My brother works as a solicitor in a village near Maidstone, and he’s heard of Lord Worthington’s unscrupulous dealings with his tenants.”

  “That is disconcerting to hear, but it does give credence to Miss Bentley’s story,” Roswell said. “Do you think you can help her?”

  Mr. Manley pursed his lips. “I can try, but I do fear it may be an impossible case.”

  “How so?”

  “I can go to the church probate court nearest to Maidstone and see if the late Lord Worthington filed his will with the court,” the solicitor said. “With any luck, we can obtain a copy of the will and petition the judge to force Lord Worthington to enforce the will.” Mr. Manley paused for a breath, then continued. “However, if the late Lord Worthington didn’t file his will with the church probate court, then it would be moot.”

  “I understand.”

  “Furthermore, there could be many reasons why Lord Worthington may not be enforcing the will,” Mr. Manley remarked. “If he could prove to the court that he doesn’t have the funds for Lady Worthington or her daughter, then the court will rule in his favor.”

  “I don’t believe that to be the case.”

  “I should warn you that nothing is stopping Lord Worthington from doctoring his books before submitting them to the court to ensure he wins the case.”

  “That would be rather underhanded.”

  “Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time that has happened.”

  Roswell frowned. “It sounds as if the odds are stacked against us.”

  “I’m afraid so, my lord,” Mr. Manley said. “I just didn’t want to give you or Miss Bentley false hope, especially since we are dealing with someone who has a reputation for being dishonest.”

  “Will you still see what you can do on the matter?”

  “I’d be happy to.” Mr. Manley rose from his chair and put the strap of his satchel on his right shoulder. “I shall depart tomorrow at first light.”

  “I do appreciate your discretion in this matter.”

  Mr. Manley tipped his head in acknowledgement. “And I appreciate your business.” He smiled. “As usual, I will keep you abreast of my findings.”

  “Thank you for that,” Roswell said, rising.

  Roswell sighed after Mr. Manley left. He should have known this wouldn’t be easy. He realized he should inform Miss Bentley of his findings.

  He headed towards the drawing room, hoping to find her there. As he stepped into the room, he saw Miss Bentley, Emma, and his mother conversing with Mr. Abbott.

  Miss Bentley glanced up and offered him a private smile. He found it oddly charming, and felt his lips curling up in response.

  “May I speak to you for a moment, Miss Bentley?” Roswell asked, nodding in acknowledgement at the others.

  Rising, she smoothed out her pale blue gown, which had white trim along the round neckline. “You may,” she replied.

  As she approached him, he offered his arm. “It would be best if we spoke in private.”

  “As you wish.”

  Roswell led her towards the rear of the townhouse, and they stepped out onto the veranda. As they started walking along the footpath in the garden, he dropped his arm. “I just spoke to my solicitor.”

  “I take it that it didn’t go well.”

  He glanced over at her in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

  “You appear tense, my lord.”

  “I do?”

  Miss Bentley nodded. “I noticed it the moment you walked into the drawing room.”

  What else did she notice about him?

  Roswell frowned. “I’m afraid that he didn’t give us much hope that your case would be resolved in your favor.”

  “Did he explain why?”

  “If your father filed a will with the church probate court, we can obtain a copy of it and then can ask a judge to enforce your father’s last wishes,” Roswell explained.

  “That is wonderful!”

  He shook his head. “Unfortunately, Lord Worthington can doctor his books to make it appear that he doesn’t have the funds to pay you.”

  “But he does have the funds!” Miss Bentley exclaimed.

  “Perhaps, but I wanted you to know there is a good chance you will never see a farthing of your dowry.”

  “And my mother will never receive what is rightfully hers, as well.” Miss Bentley shifted her gaze away from his. “Lord Worthington wins yet again.”

  “That doesn’t mean you stop fighting.”

  “What’s the point?” Miss Bentley asked, her shoulders slumping. “Lord Worthington is a disreputable man, and he has no qualms about cheating us out of our inheritance.”

  Roswell stepped closer to her. “Don’t give up hope.” He smiled. “Isn’t that what you once told me?”

  “I did, but—”

  “You don’t know what the future holds,” he asserted. “Besides, you need to remain strong if you want to help your mother.”

  A determined look came to Miss Bentley’s face. “You’re right,” she said. “I can still make an advantageous match this Season.”

  “It would be much easier if you had a dowry.”

  “I am well aware,” she replied, “but I have the rest of the Season to try to make a match.”

  Roswell’s eyes roamed over Miss Bentley’s face, noting a light sprinkling of freckles along the bridge of her nose. How had he never n
oticed that before? He found them rather mesmerizing.

  Miss Bentley met his gaze, and Roswell realized that he had been caught staring. He cleared his throat and dropped her gaze.

  “Shall I escort you back inside?” he asked.

  “Must we go back in so soon?”

  Roswell eyed her curiously. “Do you not wish to resume your visit with Mr. Abbott?”

  “He isn’t here for me,” Miss Bentley replied. “He came to call on Emma, and he is rather dull.” Her last words were spoken in a whisper.

  Amused, Roswell asked, “In what way?”

  “Did you know he owns eight hunting dogs?”

  “I did not.”

  “It was a fact that I didn’t care to know, either,” she replied. “Furthermore, I learned all I care to know about pheasant hunting and all the different ways to shoot the birds.”

  “You could at least feign an interest in hunting.”

  “I am not opposed to it, but I’m afraid I don’t see the appeal of it.” Miss Bentley turned her attention back towards the townhouse. “With any luck, Mr. Abbott will be gone when I return.”

  “Does my sister have any interest in Mr. Abbott as a suitor?”

  “None,” she replied. “She has told me as much.”

  “Then I shall accompany you and encourage Mr. Abbott to be on his way.”

  Miss Bentley smiled at him. “That would be most kind of you.”

  Roswell offered his arm and was pleased when she accepted it. For some reason, he didn’t seem to mind having Miss Bentley close to him. He found it oddly pleasant.

  Sitting in the dark, cramped coach, Roswell attempted to keep the displeasure off his face. His mother had insisted that he escort them to Lady Elizabeth Barrow’s ball, despite his many protests.

  “Chin up, my dear,” his mother said. “It isn’t as if you are off to meet your executioner.”

  “I feel as if I am,” Roswell replied. “Frankly, I don’t even know why I had to attend. You are more than capable of chaperoning Emma and Miss Bentley.”

  “That is true, but I do so enjoy your company.” She patted him on the knee with the top of her fan. “Besides, Charles was unable to join us because he went to the Opera with some friends.”

  Roswell turned his attention towards Miss Bentley, who was staring out the window. She was dressed in a white gown with ornate flowers woven throughout, and her hair was piled atop of her head in an elaborate style. His eyes wandered over her comely figure until he noticed his sister watching him with a smirk on her lips.

  The coach jerked to a stop in front of a large, three-level townhouse. The door opened and a footman assisted the ladies out of the coach. As he stepped onto the ground, Roswell extended his arm towards his mother.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  Walking into the townhouse, they were greeted by the butler, who directed them towards the ballroom. They stepped inside of the rectangular room, the center of it chalked with an ornate floral design. An ensemble was playing, signaling that the dancing had already started for the evening.

  Roswell led their group towards the rear of the ballroom and found a place for them to stand against the wall. He turned towards Miss Bentley and watched as her eyes sparkled with excitement. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green with flecks of brown, adding to their allure.

  “You seem rather excited,” he commented.

  Miss Bentley nodded. “I am,” she replied. “I’m not as nervous as I was last time, and I can’t wait to dance this evening.”

  “I have no doubt that you will not lack for partners.”

  “That is kind of you to say.”

  Emma spoke up. “I must agree with my brother, and I rarely do.”

  “That’s true,” Roswell replied.

  Miss Bentley’s eyes roamed the room and a line between her brow appeared. “Is it my imagination, or is everyone staring at me?”

  Roswell followed her gaze and noticed that the other guests were, in fact, staring in their direction. Many of the women had fans up to their faces, but it was evident they were gossiping about Miss Bentley.

  “I wouldn’t give it any heed,” he replied. “Most likely, they are just admiring your beauty.”

  Why had he just said that?

  Miss Bentley smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I doubt that to be the case.”

  Emma looped her arm through Miss Bentley’s. “Again, I must agree with my brother on this,” she said. “Although I really should stop agreeing with him. It is quite unbecoming of me.”

  His mother interjected, “You must not let the gossips get you down. They aren’t worth your time or notice.”

  As he started to open his mouth, Roswell saw Mr. Cosgrove approach him with a solemn look on his face. He tipped his head at the ladies before saying, “I need to speak to you.”

  Roswell followed Cosgrove a short distance away. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “I thought you should know that everyone here is gossiping about Miss Bentley,” Cosgrove revealed.

  “Why?”

  “Lady Persephone let it slip to Lady Rochester that Miss Bentley doesn’t have a dowry and was determined to make a match this Season, by any means necessary.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Cosgrove shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure, but no sensible man will want to associate with Miss Bentley now.”

  “Even you?”

  Wincing, Cosgrove said, “My father would cut my allowance if he discovered I was encouraging Miss Bentley, especially given the circumstances.”

  “Coward.”

  “You must understand my plight,” Cosgrove defended. “There is no denying that Miss Bentley is beautiful, but I still need to marry someone with a dowry to keep our estate afloat.”

  “Poor Miss Bentley,” Roswell muttered.

  Cosgrove glanced over at her. “Sadly, under the circumstances, it will be nearly impossible for her to make a match this Season,” he said. “You may as well send her home and try again next Season.”

  “I’m afraid that is not possible.”

  “Then I wish you luck.”

  Roswell sighed. “Thank you for coming to me about this delicate matter.”

  “I wish it hadn’t been such terrible news,” Cosgrove said. “Will you be joining us in the card room this evening?”

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I shall need to speak to my mother about this matter.”

  Cosgrove nodded before he walked away, disappearing back into the crowd.

  As Roswell approached the group, he saw the questions in Miss Bentley’s eyes. He stopped next to his mother and asked, “May I speak to you for a moment?”

  Miss Bentley spoke up. “I would prefer if you would just tell me what the problem is.”

  He glanced at his mother for permission and she bobbed her head. He let out a sigh before revealing, “It would appear that the greatest gossip of the ton has discovered that you have no dowry and are desperate to marry this Season.”

  “I see,” Miss Bentley responded. “She isn’t wrong.”

  “No, but she is informing people that you would do anything to make that happen.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Miss Bentley said, frowning.

  “She is implying that you would be willing to trap someone into marriage,” Roswell stated bluntly.

  Miss Bentley gasped. “I would do no such thing!”

  “We are well aware,” Roswell said, “but I’m afraid it has greatly hampered your prospects this Season.”

  “Oh,” Miss Bentley murmured. “That is terrible news.”

  His mother placed a hand on her sleeve. “Do not worry,” she encouraged. “We haven’t even begun to fight this.”

  “I daresay it won’t help,” Miss Bentley remarked. “My mother warned me about the gossips, and she told me they could ruin reputations with just a slip of their tongue.”

  “You are under our protection, and we protect our own,” his mother pressed. �
�We will find a way out of this mess.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Roswell saw Lady Persephone standing against the wall, watching them.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” Roswell said before heading across the room. He stopped in front of Lady Persephone and gave her a slight bow. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

  “You may,” she replied with a smile.

  Roswell led her towards the open French doors in the back of the room. As they stepped outside, he was mindful to remain where they could be seen but not heard.

  Once he dropped his arm, he turned to face Lady Persephone. “Did you inform Lady Rochester that Miss Bentley didn’t have a dowry and that she was in desperate need to marry this Season?”

  “Good heavens, no!” she declared.

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, but I did inform my mother of Miss Bentley’s terrible plight, and she must have told Lady Rochester,” she said, “which was most fortunate.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “Because it’s obvious that Miss Bentley would be willing to trap an unassuming gentleman into a marriage of convenience.”

  “She intended to do no such thing.”

  “But you implied—”

  Roswell cut her off. “You misunderstood me.”

  Lady Persephone brought her hand up to her mouth. “I assure you that I meant no harm, my lord.”

  Her manner left Roswell questioning her sincerity. “I’m afraid you did immense harm to Miss Bentley’s reputation.”

  “Perhaps that is for the best,” Lady Persephone said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She will be free to go home now and remain the country bumpkin that we both know she is.”

  Roswell gave her an exasperated look. “I’m afraid my opinion of Miss Bentley has been greatly altered since I learned of her circumstances.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  Lady Persephone lowered her hand. “What would you have me do?”

  “I’m afraid you have done enough,” Roswell said, turning to leave.

  She reached out and placed a hand on his sleeve, stilling him. “For what it is worth, I am sorry.”