Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 11

  The woman was looking at Benedict through half-lidded eyes. She stirred the air around them with her own gossamer fan which matched her dress. The moment seemed so intimate, at least according to Lady Parker, that Daphne took an unconscious step backwards. Despite the cool air of the evening, she could feel herself growing more and more flustered.

  “Excuse me,” she murmured, bobbing sightly at the knees. “Lady Parker, Lord Gildon.” With that, she turned on heel and left, walking straight on past the doors of the dance within, which had so easily captured her heart and mind earlier in the evening, and descended the stairs to the garden below.

  Here the night was darker, with less lights to expose how red Daphne’s face had become. Her fan was less of an accessory and more of a saving grace as she used to it cool herself whilst trying to have her breath to return to its normal pace. The way that woman had looked at Benedict, seeing nothing but status and money, hanging off his arm like some brainless twit…beautiful or not, her intentions were ugly. They were as clear to Daphne as that pompous dialect of hers.

  She started suddenly, internally. How on Earth had she gathered such an ugly opinion of this woman so quickly? She barely spoke any words to this Lady Parker and already she was making her out to be an enemy. An enemy, or a rival? Daphne shook her head as if to clear it and felt her curls threaten to break free. She found a bench under the cover of a nearby trellis and dropped into it, relieved to be off her feet. She was only alone for another moment before she realised she had been spotted.

  “Daphne?” Benedict crossed the garden and stopped in front of her. “Are you alright?”

  Backlit by the terrace behind him, his silhouette cast over her. How fitting for her to be sitting his shadow right now. When she didn’t answer, he took a seat beside her.

  “You seem flushed,” he observed. “I can feel the heat radiating off of you from here.”

  Daphne looked to the ground, unable to meet his gaze. “I am fine, thank you.”

  “That really doesn’t seem the case. Tell me, Daphne, has something upset you?”

  He should not be here, and Daphne knew this. She had not thought that Benedict would leave the company of Lady Parker to chase her, his mere country friend, through the night. Grateful as she was that he cared for her, it was not socially acceptable for him to do such a thing. The opinion Lady Parker must have of her now, as the woman who had taken Lord Benedict Gildon away from her, was mortifying. She should send Benedict back to her right away.

  But she did not. Instead, she kept looking down at the grass beneath them, breathing in the night air and trying her best to soothe her frazzled nerves.

  “It has been quite the evening, I know,” Benedict said. “Perhaps you are feeling overwhelmed?”

  “Somewhat,” Daphne admitted. “As pleasant as having a full dance card would have seemed to me in the past, I have found the reality of the matter to be quite taxing.”

  She felt Benedict shake beside her, a tell-tale sign that he was laughing. “Has this ball not met your expectations, then?”

  “It has exceeded them. I have met quite the number of characters this evening.”

  She finally looked at him, at the man beside her. Her friend for as long as she has had memories. Despite the discomfort that coursed through her just moments ago, she found herself calmed by his presence. She sighed heavily, leaning back to drink in the view of the moon above. She could not see as many stars tonight as she would in the country, for the lights were bright enough to dull even the glow of the heavens above. But still, she was here, in London, with him. It was enough.

  What she felt when she saw Benedict with that woman…it was indescribable. It was something ugly and alive and it coursed through her and filled her with a whole manner of thick and dark feelings. She had simultaneously wanted to storm away and head towards them. She had wanted to gain his attention, but also did not want him to realise how it had pained her.

  How confusing! She had felt so many things at once, and none of them positive. It just did not seem right in her mind, the image of Lord Gildon and Lady Parker together. As handsome a pair they were visually, the thought of the Lady hanging off his arm filled her with despair.

  Something about her, the feelings she emanated and the emotions she spurred within Daphne, reminded her so much of Roberta.

  But she could not tell Benedict that this was how she felt. At least, not directly.

  “The fresh air has me feeling much better already,” Daphne declared, sinking back into the bench and trying her hardest to sound convincing.

  “Well, that is good to hear,” Benedict replied beside her. “I thought for a moment that you might have taken ill.”

  Daphne shook her head. “No, I am quite alright now.” After a moment of quiet wherein she feared Benedict was about to get up and leave her, she added, “Have you encountered anyone who would be suitable for my father?”

  Benedict rose from the seat but did not make to leave. Instead, he turned to her. “Your father informed us that he has no intentions of remarrying, Daphne. Have you forgotten?”

  Something in his tone struck her as dismissive. For a moment, she felt disheartened. Was he truly so keen to return to the company of that woman? Had he forgotten his promise to her so soon?

  “My father is a fickle man,” Daphne said. “He is always quick to change his mind. Tomorrow he may feel very different about the company of a wife.”

  Benedict still seemed one step from leaving and one from staying. Daphne tried again, determined to have him remain with her just a while longer. Social etiquette or not, they were alone, were they not? Could two friends not partake in casual conversation in private?

  “I would not be so sure, Daphne,” Benedict replied. “After all, he was very distraught over Roberta’s departure. Perhaps it would be better for him to regain some sense of self rather than have us seek out a new partner for him.”

  “I know my father better than anyone alive. I know that he functions best when he has reliable company.”

  Benedict seemed to consider this, but after a moment he shook his head. He did not look to be disagreeing with her, but rather closing the conversation. “Perhaps you are right. But perhaps you are not; it is hard to know a man’s heart.”

  Daphne’s brows creased unconsciously. It appeared that she would not be keeping Benedict from the party any longer.

  “You are right,” she said, her tone suddenly bitter. “A man’s heart is a difficult book to read.”

  If she had believed this to be the end of their exchange, she was mistaken. Benedict pivoted fully to face her and took a step in her direction.

  “What would you know of a man’s heart?”

  Daphne’s own heart stammered. This was not what she expected, and the tone that Benedict ejected was one she was entirely unfamiliar with. He was somewhere between offence and defence, the question spoken with genuine curiosity but laced with something demeaning. Was he looking down on her? She suddenly felt as if tears threatened to spill.

  What would she know? She had no experience in the department of love. This was her first ball of the season with any real promise. The cast of men she had met this evening were archetypes in many ways, but she had never taken the time to get to know any one of them individually beyond the length of their dances together.

  Even Mr. Ainsley, with whom she had the lengthiest conversations of those she had interacted with tonight, was a mystery to her. Beyond his charms she knew nothing of him, nothing of his hopes and dreams, was instead caught up in the pleasantness of his face and the intensity of his gaze.

  Her own experience with a man’s heart was limited to that of her father’s, and his was hardly reliable. Often volatile and ever-emotional, her father could be as hard to reach as any man. The only man with whom she could consider herself well enough acquainted with to offer some glance into the male psyche was that of the man before her now in the dark, and his current state was presenting to her far more questions than
answers.

  Was this hostility brewing before them? Had Daphne interrupted something earlier that she should not have? Oh, why had she just not stayed inside and enjoyed the festivities? Lady Vivian was probably looking for her as they spoke.

  The truth was that Daphne did want to know Benedict’s heart as she believed that she had. Seeing him tonight in the grasp of another woman had filled her with something foreign and ugly. She could put a name to the emotion, but she was afraid to; she was afraid what admitting it would mean, what the implications would be for their friendship.

  “Nothing,” she finally said. “I know nothing of a man’s heart.”

  With that exclamation, she jumped from her seat and left the garden at once, leaving Benedict alone in the dark.

  Chapter 9

  A Private Dinner in London

  As Daphne descended the carriage, she took in the home before her. Set along a cobblestone street, the house had a narrow façade of white brick with red shuttered windows and a wrought iron balustrade to line the short staircase. It was a far cry from the palatial homes she was used to seeing in the country, however it certainly made a statement with what room it was afforded in the heart of London.

  Lady Vivian stepped down beside her. “I am very pleased that you are attending, Daphne. Lady Fairbank is a friend of mine from girlhood and we have kept in contact over the years. I think you will find her very agreeable.”

  Lady Vivian took one final examination of Daphne’s outfit: a simple, cream-coloured dress in an Empire silhouette with lace trimming at the collar, cuffs and hemline. Her matching gloves reached her elbow, and Lady Vivian had procured a sheer lace shawl with which she had draped over the square neckline to offer additional coverage from the night’s air. Her hair had once again been pinned up and away, fastened with a silver broach at the crown.

  “You look lovely,” Lady Vivian said, tugging the shawl a little higher over her shoulders. “Though this is just a friendly dinner party, it is necessary to dress as though your host is of the utmost importance.”

  “Yes, Lady Vivian,” Daphne replied. Satisfied that they were ready to attend the home, the two women exited the street and knocked at the door. They were let in immediately by a black-suited butler, who welcomed them inside the modest foyer.

  “I will announce your arrival to my mistress at once,” he said. He bowed low. “Excuse me.”

  Lady Vivian just nodded, hands clasped together whilst Daphne took a moment to gaze around the home. The foyer itself was minimally decorated save for the ornamental plaster work on the walls which had beautiful moulding around the skirting. A simple table stood in the corner with a vase of lovely flowers within. Daphne could not help but breathe in the scent of the fresh flowers and for a moment she was transported to the garden of her home on Hedingham Estate.

  Just then, the woman Daphne could only presume was Lady Fairbank entered. A woman of surprisingly small stature, she stood barely to Daphne’s shoulders and was wearing a hat indoors, presumably to make up for her lack of height. She was a handsome woman of about forty or so, wearing a dress very similar to Lady Vivian’s: mahogany with cream lace trim and ruffles along the skirt.

  “My darling Lady Vivian!” she exclaimed, arms opened wide to embrace her friend. Lady Vivian returned the gesture with equal affection.

  “You look well, Angelica,” Lady Vivian said with a smile.

  "Oh, I am,” was the reply. “And even more now that I finally have you within my company again.” She released her friend and turned to Daphne then. “And this must be Miss Blanton?”

  “Miss Daphne Blanton,” Lady Vivian confirmed. “A dear friend of my family’s. Daphne, this is the Lady Angelica Fairbank.”

  Daphne curtsied low. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Fairbank. You have a lovely home.”

  The woman laughed, a sweet tinkling sound. She came forward to grasp Daphne by her hands. “I am sure it pales in comparison to Hedingham Estate, but you are kind, my dear. I am glad to have you in my company as well.” She let Daphne go with a smile. “Come – I will show you to the drawing room.”

  As they passed through the rooms, Lady Fairbank engaged Lady Vivian in a conversation of their time in London so far. Daphne trailed a short distance behind, fascinated by the differences between the city and country homes. For one, there were less windows in this home for which the apparent compromise was to ensure there were plenty more paintings hung up about the walls: scenes of farmland, forests, lakes and pastures lined the walls of each room and were punctuated as well by floral accents in ornate vases.

  “And how are you enjoying your stay in London so far, Miss Blanton?” Lady Fairbank asked, motioning now for each woman to take a seat within the handsome setting.

  “I have found the city quite endearing,” Daphne replied. “The pace is certainly different to that of Essex, but it has been a welcome change.”

  “And what of the balls? Have you had the opportunity to attend any dances?”

  Daphne thought back to the night before, about how the excitement and extravagance of her first real dance had quickly become overwhelming and ugly. She tried to mask her hesitation by quickly replying, “Just one so far. I hope to attend many more yet.”

  Lady Fairbank nodded. “I am sure that you will.”

  Just then, a man entered, bowing at the doorway before entering the room. He was tall and dressed in a military uniform: a double-breasted jacket with padded shoulders and tassels.

  “Ah, at last!” Lady Fairbank declared, standing. Lady Vivian and Daphne followed suit. “This is my son, Captain Robert Fairbank. Robert, this is my friend Lady Vivian Gildon who I have been telling you so much about. And the lovely young lady with her is Miss Daphne Blanton.” She turned to her son with a warm smile. “Miss Blanton is in London for the season.”

  Daphne curtsied, tilting her head, and when she returned her gaze to Captain Fairbank, she found him looking straight at her with an even smile. The party were called to dinner then and made their way into the dining room. Lady Vivian and Lady Fairbank took their seats beside one another and immediately launched into animated conversation. As Daphne settled in beside Captain Fairbank, she found herself sifting through potential topics of conversation. After a moment, both of them attempted to speak at the same time, essentially interrupting the other.

  Captain Fairbank chuckled. “My apologies, Miss Blanton. Go ahead.”

  A little flustered and taken aback by how handsome the man beside her was up-close, Daphne cleared her throat. “Have you been in London long, Captain?”

  “A little while now.” He nodded. “I have taken leave for a short time. I am lucky to be in a position that allows me to do so.”

  “Indeed you are,” Daphne agreed. “Will you be attending any events whilst you are here?”

  The Captain poured each of them a glass of wine. “It would be a shame not to enjoy the season whilst it is in full swing, so I am certainly planning to. This time of the year is the most exciting. There are a great many things to see, parties to attend, balls to dance…”

  “And people to meet,” Daphne added.

  “And people to meet,” Captain Fairbank concurred.

  The two clinked glasses in a cheers, both smiling. Conversation with Captain Fairbank was easy; each subject occurred naturally and progressed fluidly as the dinner went on. He told her about his time in the army, explaining to her the intricacies of ranking. She listened attentively, her interest genuine.

  After a while and having exhausted most of her questions with the most informative responses he could offer her, Captain Fairbank changed the subject with, “Tell me of Essex, Miss Blanton. Do you miss home? I imagine it is very different to London.”

  Daphne sipped her wine. “Different is certainly a word. Life back there is much more relaxed, slower, compared to the city. I cannot say that I miss it just yet, to be perfectly honest. I have not really had the opportunity to reflect on what might be going on without me
there. With so much to enjoy in the city, it has been a welcome distraction and a good change of pace.”