Redeeming the Marquess

by Beers, Laura

  “And he denied you a miniature portrait of your own father?” he asked, his voice growing in agitation.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Lord Bideford clenched his jaw so tightly that a muscle pulsed below his ear. “That was poorly done on his part.”

  “It wasn’t unexpected,” she admitted. “He removed all the portraits of my father and put them in the attic.”

  “Did he state why?”

  “He did it all to try to force my hand into marrying him.”

  Lord Bideford met her gaze. “I’m glad that you didn’t relent. You deserve so much better.”

  “As am I,” she replied. “I am most fortunate that my mother also supported my decision to turn down his offers.”

  “You have a good mother.”

  “I do,” she replied. “Much like your own.”

  Lord Bideford smiled. “It would appear we are both blessed in that regard.”

  Ellie’s eyes landed on his lips, and she realized that he had one of those rare smiles that managed to break through her defenses most effectively.

  “May I escort you back to your bedchamber?” Lord Bideford asked, rising.

  Ellie rose as well. “I would appreciate that,” she replied, accepting his arm.

  As he led her back to her bedchamber, she found that she couldn’t think of anything clever to say, and he didn’t appear to mind the silence.

  Lord Bideford stopped outside her bedchamber and dropped his arm. “Here you are,” he said in a low voice.

  “Here I am,” she murmured.

  Ellie stood there, watching him for a moment, unable to move. His eyes roamed her face and eventually landed on her lips, causing her breath to hitch. Did she dare believe that he wished to kiss her?

  He started to lean closer, but he abruptly stiffened. “It is late,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I should be going.”

  Lord Bideford took a step back and bowed, then he swiftly walked down the hall without saying another word.

  Ellie watched his retreating figure until he turned the corner, and then she stepped into her room. It was only then that she realized she never did select a new book to read.

  14

  Dressed in his riding clothes, Roswell descended the stairs and saw Miss Bentley and Emma in the entry hall. “Good morning,” he greeted.

  Miss Bentley shifted her gaze towards him and smiled so brilliantly he almost tripped over his own feet. “Good morning,” she replied.

  “May I ask what you two are doing standing about in the entry hall?”

  “We are waiting for our horses to be brought around front.” Miss Bentley paused. “Would you care to join us on our ride?”

  It only took him a moment to come to his decision. “I believe I shall.”

  “But I thought you preferred to ride alone?” Emma interjected.

  “I am prepared to make an exception,” he replied, “especially since I had already planned on going riding.”

  Miss Bentley nodded approvingly. “The more, the merrier.”

  Emma eyed him suspiciously. “I just find it odd that you are choosing to join us this morning.”

  Roswell patted his sister’s shoulder. “I daresay you are reading something into it when nothing is there, dear sister.”

  Thorne stepped into the entry hall. “Your horses have all been brought around front.”

  “Wonderful,” Roswell declared.

  As they departed the townhouse, Roswell assisted each one of the ladies onto their side saddles before he mounted his own horse. They walked down the street towards the entrance to Hyde Park.

  Once they arrived, Miss Bentley glanced over at him. “It would be a shame if I beat you in a race again.”

  He chuckled. “It is considered polite to allow a young woman to win in a race.”

  “Is it now?” she asked, mirth in her voice.

  “It is.”

  Miss Bentley’s horse whinnied. “Then I propose we have another race, and you don’t have to worry about hurting my delicate constitution by winning.”

  “Careful what you wish for, my dear,” Roswell said, amused.

  A mischievous smile came to her lips. “I propose we race to the bank of the river,” she suggested, pointing towards the Serpentine in the distance.

  “I’m game,” he replied.

  Miss Bentley shifted towards Emma on her side saddle. “Are you in on the fun?”

  Emma shook her head. “I will sit this one out.”

  “Are you sure?” Miss Bentley asked.

  “Don’t fret about me,” Emma replied. “I’ll catch up to you.”

  Miss Bentley adjusted the reins in her hands and turned to Roswell. “Shall we begin on three, then?”

  Roswell nodded. “One… two…three!” The words had barely left his mouth when Miss Bentley kicked her horse into a run.

  They rode side by side, and he leaned lower in the saddle, hoping to coax more speed out of his stallion. As the river loomed up ahead, he reined in his horse and was pleased to see that Miss Bentley did the same.

  “It was a tie,” Miss Bentley announced.

  Roswell tipped his head in acknowledgement. “You are an exceptional rider.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “My father taught me.”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Roswell saw Emma in the distance, walking her horse at a leisurely pace, which was quite unusual. It had been some time since he last rode with her, but he remembered that she generally preferred to ride at high speeds.

  He dismounted and held the reins loosely in his hands. “Would you care to rest a spell?” he asked. “It would appear that it may take my sister some time to catch up to us.”

  In a swift motion, Miss Bentley dismounted gracefully.

  “That was rather impressive,” he said.

  Miss Bentley gave him a rueful smile. “I always tired of waiting for the grooms to assist me off my horse, so I learned how to do it myself.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” Roswell reached down and picked up a flat, smooth rock and ran his fingers over it. “If my mother were here, she would likely chide you on decorum, though.”

  “As would my mother,” she replied. “Thankfully, neither of them is here.”

  Roswell flicked his wrist and watched as the rock took flight over the calm water. It skipped on top a few times before it dropped below the water’s surface.

  “That was impressive.”

  “Charles and I used to skip rocks at the pond near our country home,” he shared. “I hold the record for eight skips.”

  “Eights skips?” she repeated. “Surely, you exaggerate.”

  “I assure you I do not.”

  Miss Bentley picked up a round rock and tossed it into the water. It landed with a big thud. She glanced over at him. “Is there a secret to get the rocks to skip?”

  Reaching down, Roswell picked up a flat rock and held it up for her inspection. “It is best if the rock is flat and smooth,” he said. “You want it to fit easily in your palm, and try to find one that isn’t heavy.”

  Miss Bentley leaned down and picked up a rock similar to his. “Will this one work?”

  “It will,” he replied. “Now hold the rock between your thumb and middle finger.” He watched as Miss Bentley followed his directions before saying, “Then face the water, bring your arm and wrist behind you, and release the stone.”

  He demonstrated the motion for her a few times. Then, he released the stone and watched it skip six times over the water.

  Turning towards her, he said, “It is your turn now.”

  A look of deep concentration settled on Miss Bentley’s face as she brought her arm and wrist behind her. As she threw her arm out in front of her, she released the rock and it sailed over the water before dropping below the surface.

  She frowned as she looked out over the water. “What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Roswell encouraged. “You just need more practice.”

  “I can hardly stay
out here all day and practice skipping rocks.”

  “I must admit that I am pleased to discover something that you are not good at,” Roswell said, smiling to soften his teasing.

  She brought her gaze to meet his. “If you must know, there are many things I am not good at.”

  “Such as?”

  Hesitating for only a moment, she replied, “Latin, for one.”

  “No one is good at Latin,” he joked.

  Miss Bentley laughed, as he’d hoped she would. “My tutor spent hours having me work on pronunciation, and I was terrible at it.”

  “Surely you couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “There is a reason why I do not boast that as one of my accomplishments.”

  Roswell placed a hand on his horse’s neck. “I must admit that I am quite proficient at Latin,” he confessed. “After all, I did study philosophy at Oxford.”

  “How I envy you that you were able to attend university.”

  Before he could reply, Emma reined in her horse near them. “I saw you two were skipping stones,” she said. “May I ask who won?”

  “I’m afraid your brother beat me quite soundly,” Miss Bentley admitted.

  “Take heart, Miss Bentley,” Roswell encouraged. “If you keep practicing, I have no doubt that you will eventually beat me.”

  Miss Bentley offered him a private smile. “That is kind of you to say, but I don’t believe it to be true.”

  Roswell glanced up at the sky. “It might be best if we head back,” he remarked. “I have business I need to attend to.”

  “That is a fine idea,” Miss Bentley agreed.

  He stepped closer to her and intertwined his fingers. “Allow me,” he said as he leaned down in front of her.

  Miss Bentley placed her hands on his shoulders before she put her boot into his waiting hands. As he lifted her onto the side saddle, he worked hard to pretend that her nearness did not affect him. But it did, greatly.

  Roswell had just stepped into the entry hall when Thorne approached him. “Mr. Manley is in your study.”

  “Thank you.” He turned towards Miss Bentley. “Considering this concerns you, would you care to join me?”

  Miss Bentley gave him a surprised look, but quickly recovered. “I would appreciate that greatly, my lord.”

  He gestured towards the rear of the townhouse. “After you, then.”

  They didn’t speak as they headed towards his study. Once they arrived, he stood to the side to allow her to enter the room first.

  After he followed her inside, he acknowledged his solicitor with a tip of his head before providing the introductions. “Miss Bentley, allow me to introduce you to my solicitor, Mr. Manley.”

  She smiled politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  Mr. Manley gave her a brief smile. “Likewise,” he said.

  Roswell came around his desk and indicated that they should sit. Once Miss Bentley lowered herself onto a chair, he took his seat. “I have asked Miss Bentley to join us, and you may speak freely around her.”

  Mr. Manley bobbed his head. “As you wish,” he said.

  “What did you find out?”

  “Lord Worthington did file a copy of his will with the church probate court, and I have personally reviewed it myself.”

  “That is wonderful news,” Miss Bentley gushed.

  “It is,” Mr. Manley replied, shifting in his chair to face Miss Bentley. “Your father was quite generous to your mother and yourself. He made allowances for you, even if you decided not to wed.”

  “I was not aware of that,” Miss Bentley said.

  “If you do not marry by the time you reach your majority, then your dowry proceeds to you as an inheritance,” Mr. Manley explained.

  “Which means I am entitled to that money when I turn twenty-one?” she questioned.

  “That it does,” Mr. Manley confirmed.

  Miss Bentley sat back in her chair with a stunned look on her face. “That is only six months away,” she murmured. “I can’t believe I don’t have to marry right away.”

  “No, you don’t,” Mr. Manley said. “But this is assuming we can convince a judge to enforce your father’s will.”

  “How do we go about doing that?” Miss Bentley asked.

  Mr. Manley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “That is the tricky part,” he remarked. “We have to prove that Lord Worthington has the funds available to do so.”

  Roswell spoke up. “Where do we go from here?”

  “I have already asked for a judge to hear our case,” he said. “I am requesting that he enforces the will without us having to go to trial.”

  “That might be in our favor,” Roswell mused. “There is a good chance that Lord Worthington will not want to go public with how he has been mistreating Lady Worthington and her daughter.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Manley stated. “I have also taken the liberty of contacting Mr. Clawson on your behalf.”

  “Excellent.” He shifted his gaze towards Miss Bentley and explained, “If this case does go to trial, Mr. Clawson is one of the finest barristers. I have no doubt that he will trump Lord Worthington and his defense.”

  “Mr. Clawson is trying a few cases already, but he did agree to fit you into his schedule,” Mr. Manley said. “But it will come at a cost.”

  “Please inform Mr. Clawson that I do not care about the expense. I just want to see that justice is done on Miss Bentley’s behalf,” Roswell remarked.

  Mr. Manley nodded. “Understood, my lord,” he said. “I have some additional news that may interest you, as well.”

  “Which is?” Roswell asked.

  “My brother took it upon himself to speak to the two solicitors in Maidstone, and they both agreed to testify against Lord Worthington, assuming it would come to that,” Mr. Manley shared.

  “How did he convince them to do so?” Roswell asked.

  “He explained Lady Worthington’s plight to them, and they felt inclined to help her,” Mr. Manley said. “Apparently, the late Lord Worthington was very beloved by the people in the town. They hadn’t realized Lord Worthington was treating Lady Worthington and her daughter so distastefully.”

  “What are they willing to testify about?” Roswell inquired.

  “Mainly about his disreputable practices,” Mr. Manley replied. “He has raised the rent for nearly all of his tenants, causing many of them to be evicted.”

  Miss Bentley gasped. “That is awful,” she said. “Those people have been living on those properties for generations.”

  Mr. Manley nodded in agreement. “I agree, which is why the solicitors’ testimonies will go a long way in convincing the judge of his character.”

  “Excellent,” Roswell said. “You have done well.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Manley responded as he reached into his satchel. “I do have those documents that I require your signature on.” He pulled out a few pieces of paper and extended them towards him.

  Roswell accepted the papers and briefly reviewed them, confirming that everything was in order. After he signed the documents, he handed the papers back to his solicitor.

  Mr. Manley slipped the documents back into his satchel, then asked, “Will there be anything else, my lord?”

  “Not at this time.”

  Rising, Mr. Manley said, “I will update you the moment I receive word from the judge. With any luck, this could be over within a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks?” Miss Bentley asked.

  Mr. Manley bobbed his head. “You will find that judges move at their own pace, especially in church probate court,” he replied. “But if this trial goes to court, it could drag on for months or even years.”

  “Why so long?” Miss Bentley questioned.

  “Lord Worthington can request continuances and use other sorts of delay tactics,” Mr. Manley explained.

  “Oh,” Miss Bentley murmured.

  “Do not fret,” Mr. Manley encouraged. “Lord Worthington may employ those tactics, but Mr. Clawson w
ill deploy his own strategies. And I would always put my money on Mr. Clawson.”

  “Thank you for that,” Miss Bentley said.

  “It is my pleasure.” Mr. Manley tipped his head at Roswell. “Good day, my lord.”

  After his solicitor departed, Roswell turned his attention towards Miss Bentley, who wore a crestfallen expression.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Miss Bentley met his gaze. “Even if the judge rules in our favor, it could take years for us to receive the money.”

  “If at all,” he replied honestly.

  She frowned. “That was not the least bit helpful.”

  He put his hand up. “I just want you to go into this with your eyes wide open,” he said. “You may even be called to testify.”

  “You don’t think that will be necessary?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t rightly know, but it is best to be prepared.”

  Clasping her hands in her lap, Miss Bentley said, “Once I receive my inheritance, I will reimburse you for all the costs associated with my case.”

  “That is the least of my concerns.”

  “Then what is?”

  Roswell gave her an indulgent smile. “I just want to ensure that you receive all that you are entitled to.”

  “That is kind of you, but why do you wish to help me, knowing it could take months or years to settle this matter?”

  “We are friends, are we not?”

  A slow smile spread over her lips, spilling into her eyes. “Yes, we most definitely are.”

  “Well, friends look after one another.”

  “I hope one day to return the favor.”

  Leaning forward in his chair, he said, “I expect nothing in return from you.”

  Miss Bentley watched him for a moment before saying, “I am glad that I came here,” she hesitated, “and that I became acquainted with you.”

  Roswell smirked. “That was most fortunate for you.”

  “You truly have been a godsend,” she said, and he heard the sincerity in her voice. “I don’t think I can thank you enough for all that you have done for me and my mother.”

  He rose. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

  “I feel as if I must,” she responded. “You have given me the greatest gift. You have brought hope back into my life.”