“Not truly, but I could do much worse for myself,” Charles said, “especially since Miss Bentley is quite beautiful.”
“She is so much more than beautiful,” Roswell said.
Charles eyed him curiously. “How so?”
“She has an inner strength that makes her believe she is capable of anything she puts her mind to,” Roswell said, “and when she speaks, her words are mingled with kindness and sincerity. She does not need to put on an act for anyone.”
“Then you should be the one who marries her.”
Roswell harrumphed. “I think not.”
“Why?” Charles asked. “You clearly admire the girl.”
“Not enough to marry her.”
Charles took a sip of his drink. “Then we draw straws for it.”
“That is a ridiculous notion,” Roswell replied. “Neither one of us is going to marry Miss Bentley, and that is final.”
“Then how will we help her?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Roswell replied with a wince.
“Then we are back at the beginning,” Charles stated.
Leaning to the side, Roswell placed his empty glass on a side table. “I spoke to Mr. Manley today, and with any luck, he will be able to get a copy of the will from the church probate court.”
“That will only confirm that Miss Bentley is speaking the truth,” Charles said. “It is a far cry from recouping the money.”
Roswell sighed. “I am well aware of that fact.”
His mother stepped into the room with a solemn look on her face. “I’ve just come from speaking to Ellie. She is heartbroken over what happened.”
“We were just discussing how to help her,” Charles revealed, “but I’m afraid we’re at a loss.”
“We can’t just abandon the poor girl,” his mother said.
Roswell shook his head. “We shall do no such thing,” he asserted. “Miss Bentley is under our protection, and we will find a way to help her.”
His mother walked over to the drink cart and poured herself a drink. Roswell lifted his brow at her. “Don’t be so prudish, dear,” she retorted.
Charles chuckled. “It must be serious if Mother is drinking brandy.”
She walked over to the settee and sat down. “I just can’t seem to get over the hurt on Miss Bentley’s face as we were leaving the ballroom,” she remarked. “She wasn’t prepared for the vicious gossips’ attacks on her.”
“Is anyone ever ready for that?” Charles asked.
His mother offered them a sad smile. “I wasn’t, but I’ve developed a thick skin since.”
“Miss Bentley was raised out in the country, far away from Society,” Roswell pointed out.
“As was I,” his mother said. “If you remember, I came from landed gentry, and your father was one day going to be a marquess. We were from two different worlds.”
“But it worked out,” Charles remarked.
“That it did, but I was ill-prepared for life in Society.” She took a sip. “I did learn a thing or two about how to deal with gossips, though.”
“You did?” Roswell asked.
