A March to Marquess | A Regency Romance

Chapter Twenty

"I can't," she said.

Bingham visibly relaxed in front of her. "I have to ask, why?"

"Lord Bingham,  I do not want to be married to someone who is only interested in fulfilling his duty. I would like to find a partnership that is deeply rooted in love."

"I think it is possible for us to learn to love each other, don't you?"

Isabella paused, giving his comment thought. "I think you are right. I have enjoyed our moments together. You seem to accept a side of me that not many have witnessed. But I think your love is with your ship, your exploration. Now is not the time for you to settle down."

He smiled and patted her hands. "You are truly one of the most spectacular woman I have ever met. Please tell me we can remain friends."

"Of course. Will you be staying here for the remainder of the season?"

"If you promise to dance with me, I would love to."

It was Isabella's turn to smile. As she did, her eyes filled up with tears.

"Oh darling Isabella. Please don't cry over this."

"I am not crying because I'm sad, I'm crying because I am happy. Happy we had this moment and happy I met you."

He grazed his fingers across her face, catching and wiping away the tears that had fallen. He cupped her chin and gazed into her eyes.

"I wish we were a few years in the future." Isabella noticed his eyes were shinier than normal.

She nodded and sniffled. He was right. Their friendship would have been enough to provide a good marriage, even one that could have been happy. But the love that she knew was out there was enough to say no. It was better this way.

"I should be off. I'll see you later this week?" He stood up, straightened up his coat, and grabbed his hat off the small table.

Isabella nodded her answer and watched him walk out the doors. She heard Lady Welton say her goodbyes. It wasn't long until she joined her in the room.

"Well?"

"Please don't pretend like you didn't already hear everything," her words ended in a hiccuping sob. The reality of her situation started to sink in.

"You should give me more credit, Isabella. I didn't sit there and listen to every word that was spoken. I didn't need to, I knew you would do the right thing."

She didn't want to cry in front of her step-mother. Instead, she excused herself and took a moment to breathe. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief and straightened up her hair. It wasn't worth crying over any longer.

When she felt calmer, she made her way back to the drawing room. As she got closer, she heard voices that got louder and deeper as she approached. She stood in the doorway, observing Lord Devonshire speaking with her step-mother.

"Ah, here she is," Lady Welton said with too high of voice. It was overly sweet and friendly. "You've had quite the list of callers today, haven't you Isabella! Lord Bingham was here not too long ago."

Isabella dropped into a quick, but appropriate, curtsy. "Lord Devonshire, how are you?"

"I am well, Miss Isabella."

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Lord Devonshire?" Lady Welton's voice was thick like honey and she fluttered about trying to make the Marquess comfortable.

"I wanted to inquire on how you were doing, both of you. It has been awhile since I have visited."

"We have been well. So much to do with the Season wrapping up!"