His mother gave him a knowing look. “Your aversion to marriage is growing rather irksome.”
“Only to you, Mother.”
Her eyes took on a pleading look. “Promise me that you won’t dismiss every woman out of hand.”
He frowned. “If you must know, I find Lady Persephone to be rather agreeable. I might even consider entering a marriage of convenience with her.”
“How romantic,” she muttered.
“Sensible women do not require love,” Roswell claimed. “They only want the security of a man’s name.”
“All women wish to be swept off their feet,” his mother pressed.
Roswell watched as Emma descended the stairs, looking lovely in a white gown with a blue sash around her waist.
“You are looking lovely this evening, sister,” he said as she came to a stop in front of them.
“Thank you,” she replied.
He turned his eyes up to the top of the stairs and saw Miss Bentley standing there, wearing a pale pink gown with a square neckline. Her brown hair was piled atop her head, and small curls framed her face. To say she merely looked beautiful would be an understatement in his mind. It was a shame she had no prospects.
Rather than watch her descend the stairs, he turned his attention towards Thorne. “Are the coaches out front?”
“They are,” Thorne confirmed.
“Excellent,” he replied. “I shall ride with Charles.”
Roswell felt Miss Bentley’s presence next to him, but he did not feel any need to speak to her. It was because of her that he was being forced to go to this blasted ball.
His mother spoke up. “You are looking radiant tonight, Ellie.”
Miss Bentley smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Emma was nice enough to let me borrow this gown for the evening.”
“You may as well keep it,” Emma said as she tugged on the tops of her white gloves. “It looks much better on you than it ever has on me.”
“Truly?”
Emma nodded. “I look dreadful in pink.”
“I can’t imagine that to be the case,” Miss Bentley attempted.
“It is true,” his mother said. “Emma looks best in white and blue hues.”
“Thank you,” Miss Bentley said. “I shall take good care of this gown.”
Emma smiled at her. “I know you will.”
At that moment, Charles stepped down onto the bottom step of the stairs. “I do apologize for being the last person down.”
Roswell gestured towards the door. “We are riding together in the first coach.”
Charles tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Understood.”
As Charles walked across the foyer, Roswell couldn’t help but notice that Charles’ eyes lingered on Miss Bentley for a long moment.
Roswell turned towards the door and headed into the awaiting coach. “Mother insisted that we travel by coach to Lady Bryum’s townhouse rather than walk,” he said as Charles sat across from him.
“But of course,” Charles declared. “It is nearly a block away.”
