“It’s a chance that I’m willing to take.”
“Suit yourself.”
A server walked over and placed another glass in front of Roswell. As he picked up the empty glass, he turned his attention towards Charles. “Would you care for something to drink, sir?”
Charles nodded. “Whatever he has will do for me, as well.”
“I shall see to it,” the server said.
Just as Roswell reached for the glass, he saw two familiar faces approaching the table and stifled the groan on his lips.
“As I live and breathe,” Lord Townsend said as he stopped at the table, “is that Roswell, the Marquess of Solitude?”
Roswell met his gaze. “What is it that you want?”
“Nothing but the pleasure of your company,” Townsend replied as he pulled out a chair at the table.
Mr. Cosgrove spoke up as he walked around the table to sit down as well. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Roswell grunted. “It hasn’t been long enough for me.”
Cosgrove chuckled. “I see that you haven’t lost your cantankerous persona.”
“I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment,” Roswell grumbled as he brought his glass to his lips.
Townsend turned his attention towards Charles. “Why is our dear friend so annoyed today?”
Charles leaned back in his chair. “My mother is hosting a young woman this Season, and it greatly vexes him.”
“Do continue,” Townsend said, smiling. “You have piqued my interest.”
“This particular young woman is quite beautiful, but Roswell takes issue with the fact that she doesn’t have a dowry,” Charles explained.
“She doesn’t have a dowry?” Cosgrove asked.
Charles shook his head.
“That is most unfortunate, but it doesn’t mean she won’t make a match this Season,” Cosgrove said.
Townsend bobbed his head. “I agree,” he remarked. “It isn’t unheard of for people to marry for love.”
Roswell scoffed. “Love?” he asked. “Now you are just spouting nonsense.”
Townsend shifted in his seat to face him. “How so?”
“Love has no place in a marriage,” Roswell declared. “It is a foundation that will crumble upon its first real test of devotion.”
Cosgrove smirked. “I see that Roswell has been reading sonnets again,” he joked.
“You can mock me all you want, but you know I am right,” Roswell declared. “Any man that falls in love is a fool.”
Townsend rubbed his hands together. “I find myself intrigued by this young woman.”
“Her name is Miss Bentley, and she is the daughter of the late Lord Worthington,” Charles shared.
“I have great respect for Lord Worthington,” Townsend said. “He served admirably in the House of Lords.”
“That he did,” Roswell agreed.
