His look of soul-deep sorrow touched her, and Ellie found compassion stirring inside of her for him. “No one is a lost cause, my lord,” she assured him. “I would be happy to help you, if you would but allow me to.”
“Why would you wish to help me?”
To lighten the mood, she joked, “I find that I have an ample amount of time to myself as I search for a suitor.”
“Allow me to think on it.”
Ellie gave him an encouraging smile. “The greatest fighters are the ones that keep getting back up, no matter how hard they get hit.”
“Are you a philosopher now?” he asked with a mildly amused expression.
“Why not?” she asked. “The world could use more female philosophers.”
Lord Bideford opened the door for her. “Good night, Miss Bentley.”
“Good night, Lord Bideford.”
After the door was closed, Ellie walked over to the bed and put the candle on the table, then sat on the bed and opened her book. But she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the words; her mind kept straying to Lord Bideford.
There was so much pain and anguish in his voice. She had been in earnest about finding a way to help him, but she wasn’t quite sure where to start.
10
Roswell wasin an irritable mood after a fitful night of sleep. He couldn’t seem to fathom why he had been so vulnerable with Miss Bentley the night before. His emotions were usually firmly tucked away, never surfacing. So why had he confided in her about what he was feeling?
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.”
