“It is all over Town.” Cosgrove chuckled. “I’m afraid a piece of tasty gossip such as this one had no chance of staying quiet.”
“I should have known,” Roswell muttered.
“If I were you, I would just take a ride through Hyde Park during the fashionable hour, satisfy all of the gossips who want to see you two together,” Cosgrove advised. “You may as well get it over with.”
Roswell bobbed his head. “I suppose that could work.”
Townsend spoke up. “What are you doing over here?”
Cosgrove gestured at a building across the yard. “I was at a coffeehouse across the way when I saw Bideford’s coach pull up.”
“Bideford!” came an angry shout from behind them.
Roswell turned around and saw Lord Worthington approaching him with a thunderous expression.
Worthington stopped in front of him and wagged his finger in front of his face. “You think you can just steal a man’s fiancée and get away with it!” His words were slurred, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“You are drunk, Worthington.”
“No, I’m not,” he replied. “I can drink anyone under the table.”
“That may be true, but you are making a fool of yourself,” Roswell said, keeping his voice low.
Worthington glanced over his shoulder at the men and women who were gawking at him. Taking a step back, he declared, “This man stole my fiancée!”
“I did no such thing,” Roswell replied. “You were never truly engaged.”
“We had an understanding.”
“That isn’t true. Miss Bentley had no intention of ever marrying you.”
“She doesn’t know what she wants!” Worthington spat out. “I had been slowly wooing her, and you just swooped in and took her from me.”
“I believe Miss Bentley made her intentions known when she ran away from you,” Roswell remarked dryly.
Worthington’s eyes narrowed. “You think you are so clever.”
“More so than you.”
“Miss Bentley will be mine once more,” Worthington declared.
Roswell shook his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said. “Perhaps it would have been different if you hadn’t deprived Miss Bentley and Lady Worthington of their inheritance.”
The crowd gasped, and he saw the women bringing fans up in front of their faces.
Worthington took a step closer to Roswell. “That money rightfully belongs to me.”
“Not according to your predecessor’s will.”
“Bah,” Worthington said. “He was coerced into creating that will.”
“Yet he had the soundness of mind to register it at the church probate court?” Roswell questioned. “That seems highly unlikely.”
“I am confident that the judge will side with me on the matter.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Roswell said.
Worthington’s face grew splotchy. “You are just marrying her for her money, aren’t you?”
