Benham bobbed his head in understanding. “That would be rather vexing.”
Roswell walked over to the door and opened it. “I will rest much easier when Miss Bentley no longer resides under this roof.”
“I would imagine that to be the case,” Benham replied.
As Roswell headed towards the parlor on the first floor, he hoped that Miss Bentley would not be joining him for breakfast. He wished to avoid her unless it was absolutely necessary to speak to her. If he was lucky, she might not even remember what they discussed last night.
His steps faltered as he entered the room and saw Miss Bentley sitting at the table, her face lighting up when she saw him. Or had he just imagined that? Either way, he found it rather unsettling.
“Good morning, Miss Bentley,” Roswell greeted as he stepped over to the buffet.
“Good morning, my lord,” she replied, putting her fork down. “I trust you slept well.”
“I never sleep well.” Why had he just admitted that? He needed to be better about curbing his tongue around Miss Bentley.
“Why is that?”
Roswell took his plate and sat at the head of the table. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
“I understand.” Miss Bentley reached for her cup of chocolate and took a sip. After putting the cup down, she admitted, “I think my favorite part about residing here is the chocolate.”
“You are easy to please, then.”
Miss Bentley wiped the sides of her mouth with her napkin. “I was thinking about what we discussed last night.”
Roswell stifled a groan. He did not want to have this conversation with her. “I’m not sure if now is the right time to discuss this.”
“I was just hoping to ask you a few questions, and I assure you that they are not too personal.”
Roswell frowned. “You may ask ten questions.”
“Only ten?” she repeated back.
“I believe I am being rather generous, considering I would prefer to eat my breakfast in silence.”
“Where is the fun in that?” she asked.
“Breakfast is not meant to be fun, and that was one of your questions,” he said. “You now have nine questions remaining.”
Miss Bentley pressed her lips together in a tight line as she mulled over her next question. “Do you engage in the usual pastimes for men, such as boxing and hunting?”
“I do not enjoy boxing, and I haven’t been hunting since my father died.”
“What occupies your time, then?”
“I work,” he replied. “You now have seven questions left.”
“You must do other things besides work?”
“Nothing else matters,” he said. “I have tenants who are relying on me to make critical decisions, and what I do now could affect generations to come.”
“Don’t you employ a steward?”
“I do, but I am the one who is ultimately responsible.”
Miss Bentley studied him for a moment before saying, “Your mother mentioned you hate social gatherings. Why is that?”
“I tire of all the snares and traps set by mothers who are desperate to marry their daughter to a man of means.”
