A March to Marquess | A Regency Romance

Chapter Thirteen

He didn't say a word.

He offered out his hand and together they danced across the floor. If Isabella had been feeling any fatigue before, it was gone. Instead, she felt weightless as they turned.

Everything else seemed to melt away, leaving their eyes unfashionably locked. The atmosphere felt charged between them. He seemed to be challenging her to look away, but she did not.

The music came to the end and the remaining attendees clapped and turned to find a spot to watch the sun rising over the town. Waiting for their promised breakfast and then their journey home and to their beds. Isabella and Devonshire looked towards the crowd as if they were reminded for the first time that they were there the whole time.

He did not leave her side when the music ended.

"I must speak with you, most urgently," he finally spoke. "Will you meet me out in the gardens? Please, come alone."

She opened her mouth to speak but he gently shushed her. "Don't worry. It is a proper conversation, nothing else."

Isabella hesitantly nodded as he made his departure unnoticed. The rest of the party were already filing in to the drawing room where the house staff had set up a breakfast buffet. She tried looking around for anyone that would miss her if she left. She had no idea where her father or her step-mother were, but she assumed they were already eating breakfast. Her father was notorious for wanting to be the first in line.

She slid out the back of the house and into the gardens. It was dimly lit by the remaining candles and the soft light of the rising morning. She walked down the manicured path and found Lord Devonshire standing, gazing at his pocket watch. His fingers deftly wound it.

Isabella watched him quietly. His movements were confident. The thought once again filled her mind of his hands on her body. How solid he felt in her arms. How steady he was.

She cleared her throat to announce her presence, but to also blot out the inappropriate thoughts running through her mind.

He looked up at her. She thought he looked at her peculiar at first, but quickly trained his expression back to being passive.

"I hope you had a wonderful time this evening, Isabella," his deep voice cut through the silence.

"I did, thank you my lord."

"I am not sure how to approach this topic with you, I'm afraid. But I believe we have an understanding, you and I. Is that still true?" His eyes searched hers.

After a beat, she carefully nodded.

"Then I shall treat you like a business partner," he took a second as he loosened his cravat ever so slightly. "I will not pretend why you ran out on me and my cousin. I understand I was foolish and I took something that did not belong to me. I will relay that Kat was heartbroken when she learned you had left, but I softened the confusion with an excuse about your father being ill."

She was relieved at that. She had grown fond of Lady Katherine. It was nice to have another friend in the world she could count on.

"You are a most admirable woman, Isabella. I am surprised at the risks you are willing to take."

"I am willing to take them for myself, my lord. It is not all for you."

"No, I am not so daft to think that. We have not known each other for long enough to risk one's life like that," he coughed quietly into his handkerchief. The fires were being set in the hearth of the surrounding houses, causing the air to get thick with smoke. "My idea is that tonight, you know that everyone saw us dancing. It was the first step into filling the gossip channels with the understanding that I am in pursuit of you."

"Oh," Isabella replied quietly.

"I will be attending all of the balls, dinners and other social functions that you are at. Quickly, the understanding will be there that I am there for you. I need you to know that and to act appropriately when we do interact, of course within societal expectations.

For balls and any country dances, I will be filling two of your dances. I shall only dance with other women once, avoiding any sort of commitments to them. You are free to dance with men multiple times, you know you cannot turn them down."

She looked at the small pot of rosemary that was growing beside them. This conversation was too much for her. It took all her power not to fall into unwanted female emotions.

"My lord, I understand your plan," she swallowed her unwavering voice. "But what I don't understand is what it does to help me."

"We had discussed this, Isabella. And please, stop with the 'my lord'. Please," he continued as he took her petite gloved hand in his. "Just call me Devonshire, or Devon for that matter. That is what Kat calls me. Forget propriety for once. If anyone knew what we were doing, that would be the least of your worries."

"Then, I will ask my question again. Besides a small financial compensation, what do I have to gain? My family has my intended set as Lord Dunmore. If I make it through the season with you warding him off, I do not end up married and I become a disappointment to them. I am going to have to attend the next season until my parents deem me unwed-able and they leave me alone. Til then, I become the gossip of the century. The one that Devonshire led on.

Furthermore, even if I do not want to enter marriage at all, I do not have anyone to count on. I have neither a brother, nor a guardian that would take care of me well into my old spinster age. My father is a smart business man, and although I am not well versed in his business or any male dealings, I do know that my marriage would also help him."

She took a breath. Her mind kept showing her the moment where he called her a mistake after he kissed her so deeply.

"I know you do not want to be married. And I also know that even if you did, when you will, it will not be to someone as plain as me. I don't know if I can take the chance of our prior agreement anymore. It all seems to be a bit much. More than I thought it was going to be."

"Are you expecting me to marry you, then? You understand that will never happen." His voice escalated.

It was as if she was struck across the face. Against her control, her eyes welled up.

"Damn it all to hell. I am sorry Isabella," he sighed. "I know not what you do to me." He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his. "You are far from plain. I admire you, Isabella, I do. I wish things were different."

"Then tell me, what do I do?" She replied.

"I have full expectations that everything will work out. It is a lot to ask, but can you please trust me?"

His face hovered close to hers now. She could see his handsome face up close. His eyes a dark pine forest. The shadow of stubble that she longed to touch. The warmth of their breathing mingling together.

"I do trust you," she whispered.

It appeared as if he was moving closer, closing the gap between them as she instinctively closed her eyes. Quickly she was met with cool morning air. His hand no longer supporting her chin. When she opened her eyes he was gone.

"There you are Isabella!" Her father bellowed from the back door. "I was wondering where you got to. What are you doing out here? Did you have breakfast?" He asked.

"No papa, I came out here for a little fresh air. I am sorry if I had worried you."

"Not at all. Your mother is ready to leave, will you walk with me to the carriage?"

She nodded her head and looped her arm through his .