Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 13

  Daphne could not even feel her heart beating in her own chest. Had it stopped? Had she just died of embarrassment on the spot? Her entire night, all the progress she had made, the friendship she was promised, it all hung in the balance now. If her father was disgraced, then the Blanton name was disgraced. She would once again be nothing but a joke to the entire city.

  “You have ruined any great opportunities to market yourself as a merchant, and –“ she motioned towards Daphne, who was still in shock “- you have sabotaged any chance your daughter had at a good match. Not to mention you have tarnished my name, the Gildon name, by association.”

  Lady Vivian seemed to suddenly tire, for she dropped her hand. Her posture likewise slackened. She raised her hands to her temples. Turning to the butler, she asked him to have the housekeeper prepare tea.

  “I understand the pain you are experiencing, Walter,” she said, much softer now. “But actions have consequences, and there are implications for other people beside yourself. Think about your children, Walter. Your daughter, who is here presenting herself to society. And your sons, who sit at home but who will one day make their own debuts. Why would you want to hurt them in this way?”

  “She stole Charlotte’s jewels, Vivian,” Walter said in the lilted accent of a drunken countryman. “The wretch left me and took Charlotte’s memories with her. She had no right, she had no right, she had no right…”

  Lady Vivian shushed him, but her anger from earlier had apparently dissipated. She glanced at Daphne, who was still reeling by everything that had just happened, and then back at Mr. Blanton. Daphne also stared at her father, at his lined face which had grown blotchy with despair, and his new suit which was dishevelled and dirty.

  To think that just a short time ago she was entertaining the idea that Lady Fairbank would find her father appealing. The lovely Lady was everything that her father needed, and yet he was too obsessed with his young ex-wife to even try to move on and be proper. Her ideas of peace for him would never be realised.

  The ball that Lady Vivian would be holding here was to be a debut of sorts for her father; he was to be the guest of honour, a distinguished position he would have revelled in. What would happen to that now? Who would attend a ball when the guest of honour was the laughingstock of London? No one of good company, that much was certain.

  “I am sorry, Vivian, Daphne,” Mr. Blanton finally mumbled. The mood of the room appeared to have sobered him up some. “I have acted disgracefully.” He rubbed a hand through his greying hair. “I no longer believe that it was wise of me to come to London with you.”

  “You have not even lasted two days,” Lady Vivian said, her tone agreeable, but still tight and tired. No doubt she was trying to ascertain how exactly to allay the spectacle he had caused.

  “I think it would be best that I go home,” Mr. Blanton said. Daphne’s heart could not even manage a flutter at this. She agreed; he should go home. The damage he had caused tonight may well be irreparable.

  Lady Vivian did not disagree either. “I will send the maid to help you prepare for bed. I will arrange a carriage for you in the morning; it is too late to make preparations for your departure now.”

  Mr. Blanton just nodded, for it was all he could likely do. He looked up at his daughter and was about to speak but she just shook her head at him. Without a word or a goodbye of any kind, Daphne left the foyer to attend the sitting room where the prepared tea was being laid out. Benedict entered the room from the adjoining living room door at the same time.

  He took one look at her face. “What has happened?”

  Daphne just shook her head, still unable to speak. After a moment, Lady Vivian entered as well. Wordlessly, Benedict poured out the tea, but his mother stopped him before he filled the third cup.

  “On second thought, I will be retiring as well. I have had enough excitement for the evening. Goodnight, Benedict.”

  Benedict set the tea down. “Goodnight, mother.”

  Lady Vivian looked at Daphne and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I am sorry, Daphne.” With that, she left the two of them alone.

  Daphne took her cup between her clammy hands whilst Benedict sipped his own tea in silence. She could feel him watching her over the rim of his cup and knew that he was waiting for her to speak.

  After a sip, she set it down with a sigh. “My father is leaving. He is going home.”

  “What happened?”

  “He crashed a soirée that Baron Townsend was hosting to confront Roberta about stealing my mother’s jewellery. He made a complete fool of himself. A pair of officers brought him back here. Oh, Benedict,” she suddenly exclaimed, the rage and despair finally reaching her. “He must have told them aloud that he was staying with you. I have no doubt that he has single-handed caused issue for the Gildon name.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about the Gildon name,” Benedict replied kindly, taking another sip.

  “Lady Vivian met them at the door and confirmed that he was staying in her residence. Isn’t this an embarrassment for you?”

  Benedict put his own cup down. “This certainly isn’t an ideal situation. But Daphne, please don’t worry yourself about the implications this will have on mine and my mother’s reputation. If there is one thing my mother excels at, it is damage control. I am more concerned about how you are doing in light of all this.”

  “I do not know,” Daphne admitted. “I suppose overall I am just disappointed. Things were going relatively well, and now we will have no guest of honour for the ball.”

  “I feel personally responsible,” Benedict said. “I should have kept a better watch on Walter. We know that he is going through a tumultuous time right now.”

  “No, Benedict,” Daphne said, reaching over and putting a hand on his knee. “My father is not your responsibility. He is a grown man, even though he does not always act like it. I do not want you to feel at all to blame for what has happened tonight. None of us could have known.” She leaned back, realising how close she had put herself to him. “Besides, I do not even think my father was entirely conscious of his decisions.” After a moment longer, and having almost finished her tea, and idea occurred to her. “Benedict, would you be the guest of honour at the ball?”

  He blinked at her. “Me?”

  “Yes. You are a Lord and a gentleman, and naturally the ball will be hosted here. We would need someone to draw a good crowd, and you are the best choice.”

  He considered for a moment. “Well, you would certainly have my mother’s approval. I suppose that it would be a fitting arrangement.”

  Daphne’s chest finally swelled as the relief breathed life back into her. At least this is one dilemma that has been assuaged. “Oh, thank you, Benedict! You’re a true hero.”

  He chuckled. “Well, every hero needs an escort. So how about it, Daphne? Will you do this hero the honour of being his escort?”

  Daphne stopped. Had he really just asked her that? Was that truly the question he had finally asked her the very same day that she had already agreed to someone else? Goodness how she wanted to say yes, finally, to the question she had always wanted him to ask her. And of course, ironically, she could not.

  “Oh,” she started. “Actually, I have already arranged an escort for the ball. Benedict, I am –“

  He cleared his throat. “Oh, it’s quite alright. I was just being polite; I am just doing as any good chaperone would.”

  He kept on sipping his tea. So he didn’t honestly want to ask her? Was he just being polite? Did he pity her now that her father had caused another scandal? He must believe that her name would be so tarnished that finding an escort other than himself would be impossible.

  Daphne returned her cup to the table a little more harshly than she probably should have; the clatter of porcelain made Benedict jump. “Well, then, it is sorted. Thank you for your cooperation." She rose at once before the emotions she was feeling threatened to burst forth. “Goodnight, Lord Gildon.”

  She left him
alone to contemplate that.

  Chapter 10

  At The Ball

  It was the night of the ball, and Daphne had heard that Benedict would be escorted by none other than Lady Winnifred Parker. She secretly wished that Captain Fairbank had held off on asking to be her escort for just one ball longer so that she could have yes to Benedict – partially because she wanted to attend with him, but moreover because she did not want Lady Parker to be there at all.

  Her distaste for the woman had come about so suddenly and with such an attitude that it surprised even her. She had to wonder how much is had to do with Benedict as opposed to how Daphne felt about the woman as an individual herself.

  Daphne admired herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a divine gown of green and gold which brought out the colour of her eyes and complemented the cream of her skin beautifully. Her gown had a beaded bodice and was woven through with lace, rather than trimmed, and it made her appear slightly older and far more regal than she would normally dress. It was the finest gown she had ever worn, and she could think of no better occasion than to wear it to a ball that she was hosting.

  Her long gloves were feathered at the cuffs and came to rest just above her elbows. She had jewels in her ears and at her throat and the light that bounced off them now promised to be dazzling under the party lights below. Finally ready to emerge for her presentation, she left her bedroom and took the grand staircase down to the ballroom.

  The ball had already begun; a small crowd had formed around the perimeter of the room as couples paired up and prepared for the first dance of the evening. The Gildons' home had been adorned with flowers in yellows, pinks and whites that matched the rest of the gold and silver décor. It was a home transformed: tonight, it was a palace of dance, and she would be the princess.

  And her prince for the evening? Captain Fairbank awaited her at the bottom of the steps. He was looking up at her with a combination of awe and pride, and in that moment she truly felt beautiful. She knew that somewhere up above her mother was looking down at her and smiling – she could feel it in her heart.

  “Good evening, Miss Blanton,” Captain Fairbank said. He pressed a kiss to her hand. “I want to say Your Highness, for you look a picture of royalty tonight.”

  Daphne blushed deeply, and that only seemed to please him more. “You are so kind, Captain Fairbank. I must admit that you look rather dashing yourself.”

  “What a fine pairing we make,” was his reply. “Shall we?”

  He led the way into the ballroom with Daphne on his arm. Though the room was not yet full of all those who were sent invitations, Daphne was already astounded by the number of people within. And many of them appeared to be looking her way. She smiled around the room, trying to place the gracious host. She spied Lady Vivian by the band, locked in conversation with the conductor. There were few familiar faces save for two, which came into view as they headed towards the dance floor.

  Benedict was dressed in a finely tailored suit, his hair smooth and face neatly trimmed, but it was the woman beside him who had Daphne stunned. Even in her finest dress and jewels, Daphne could not help but feel overshadowed by the appearance of Lady Parker. Her dress was resplendent, floor-length and swirling in a deep crimson. She had paired it with ivory gloves and pearls threaded throughout her blonde locks. If Daphne was a princess, Winnifred was a queen.

  “Is that Lord Gildon over there?”

  Daphne started, realising that she had entirely forgotten about the man whose arm she was on. “Yes, it is.”

  “I have not seen him in many years. And who is his escort this evening?”

  Of course he had to ask. Daphne bit back a scoff. “Lady Winnifred Parker.”

  “She looks nice.”

  Daphne frowned at him, disbelieving. “Nice?”

  “Do you not think so?”

  “Well, I–I mean of course I do. She looks glorious.”

  Captain Fairbank’s eyes did not skirt to Lady Parker at all when he said. “But I think you look even more beautiful, Miss Blanton. You are the loveliest lady in the room, and I suspect a better dancer as well.”

  He was truly flattering her now, but it felt good nonetheless. She offered him a smile and said, “Let’s find out. Shall we?”

  He chuckled at her, catching on to her mimicking tone. He bows deeply. “May I have this dance, Miss Blanton?”

  She curtsies back with a flirtatious smile. “You may, Captain Fairbank.”

  They walked directly into the centre of the room and lined up alongside the other dancers. Daphne was highly aware that Benedict and Lady Parker were just three couples away from them, and she could feel more than one set of eyes on her. She kept her own deliberately focused on Captain Fairbank, who did the same to her. Then the music began, and so did the dancing.

  Daphne was familiar with this dance, and it seemed that the Captain was as well. They moved in unison, stepping and out and around, all the while gazing on at each other with matching smiles. Perhaps, Daphne thought, if she kept up this charade of a smile for long enough, she would begin to believe it? If she did, perhaps Benedict would notice that she was happy, too.

  Her motivations confused even her, for she could not admit to herself what her feelings for her friend were. For the time being, she must be content to entertain herself with the Captain, since Benedict was apparently decided on his feelings for the snooty Lady Parker.

  Speaking of, the other woman whirled past her now, her scarlet gown slashing through the others like a bloodied knife. She certainly stood out amongst the crowd, and that was no doubt her intention. She passed by Daphne again as each line of partners wove around the other. Daphne caught her eye and found herself locked inside her poisonous gaze. Lady Parker looked as if she was about to speak but decided that it was not worth her time. She pointedly looked away as the women returned to their partners again.

  And thus it went on, in, out and around, looping through, circling round and back again, until finally Daphne slipped and locked eyes with Benedict. She almost stumbled; he was looking at her with such intensity that the rest of the world receded around her.

  There was only her and him, the two of them alone in the empty room, looking at each other as if standing only inches apart, but feeling as if it were miles. The band was gone, the distant music changing to the sound of wind whistling through the forest trees at Hedingham. All around her were just open fields and rolling hills and endless dancing clouds.

  She wanted to call out his name, but she couldn’t. Her voice was frozen in her throat, her body unable to break out of the rhythm it was locked in. As they danced, they held each other’s eyes until finally Daphne found herself in Captain Fairbank’s arms and the music had stopped.

  Applause sounded around them, and Daphne quickly stepped back from the Captain’s hold. He seemed entirely oblivious to what had just occurred, clapping along with everyone else. Daphne did not look back to Benedict, but instead at Lady Parker. Had she imagined that entire exchange? She could not tell, for Lady Parker also seemed too enraptured in the band and with her partner to pay Daphne any heed whatsoever.

  “I certainly do have the best dancer on my arm,” Captain Fairbank said into Daphne’s ear. He leaned in close to her. “Thank you, Miss Blanton.”

  Daphne replied automatically. “Thank you, Captain Gil–I mean, Captain Fairbank.” She froze, caught out as her words betrayed her. But fortunately, he did not seem to have heard her. He occupied himself with staring at the refreshments table. Flooded with relief, Daphne took his arm and led him in that direction right away.

  “I think we have earned this,” the Captain said as he poured two glasses of punch and handed one to Daphne. “To you!” He took a sip before she could cheer. “And to me!” He took a second sip. Daphne was too frazzled to laugh as she normally would. She did take a sip of her punch, hoping that it would calm her down, or at least allow her to relax some of the energy that was coiled inside her. She felt on-edge and anxious, a feeli
ng that should have been foreign in an exciting environment as this one.