Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 16

  Surely not, for she had defended the Captain, had she not? Yet she had just ended the relationship she would have engaged with him before it had even really begun. How curious, and even more curious was the sense of glee that hearing those words embedded in his chest. If the occasion weren’t so sombre, he could have danced.

  If Captain Fairbank was shocked or distressed to hear this, he did not show it. Instead, he took a few steps forward and narrowed the distance between them. Gently, he took her hand into his and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

  “It was an honour to have your affections, as short a time as it was. You were a wonderful dance partner.” Then he released her and straightened up. “I cannot say I necessarily understand the nature of why you have chosen to end this, but I accept it nonetheless. You have my support, as your friend.”

  Benedict was even more taken aback by the Captain’s response than he was by Daphne’s proclamation. He had expected that he would need to place himself between the pair, for the Captain he once associated with would never graciously accept any decision that was not based on his terms. Was this the same person he had known as a boy, however briefly? Taking in the rigidity of his posture and the appearance of his uniform, perhaps his opinion of the other man could be swayed. He supposed that Captain Robert Fairbank was a man reformed.

  Daphne offered him a sad smile. “Thank you, Captain, and you mine.”

  They had come to an agreement then, a settlement of sorts. Benedict’s head was reeling. What a strange day indeed.

  “Captain Fairbank,” he said, unthinking. He started after the man, who had already turned to leave. “Please, wait a moment.”

  The Captain paused and allowed Benedict to come to his side. The two men eyed each other for a moment like a pair of wolves. Then Benedict extended his hand. Captain Robert glanced at it, then back up at the Lord.

  “I must also apologise,” Benedict said, keeping his hand straight and level. “I believe I have misjudged you. I had spoken ill of you out of turn and without recognising your true character.”

  Captain Robert kept his hand at his own side, eyes level with his old playmate.

  “My perception of you as the prideful boy I knew from childhood appears to have long expired,” Benedict went on. “For that I am sorry, for today you strike me as a man of justifiable confidence and chivalrous understanding. I have no conflict with you. Please, accept my sincere apologies.”

  At last, Captain Fairbank grasped his hand. Each man gripped it tightly and with equal confidence.

  Captain Fairbank broke into a broad grin. “I had my reservations about you, Lord Gildon. There was quite the pomposity about you as a boy, yourself if my memory is accurate.”

  “It appears we have both grown up.”

  “So it does.”

  Benedict shook his hand a final time, then reached out to take his shoulder. “Would you stay for dinner, Captain? It would ease the guilt I am feeling.”

  “No guilt is necessary, old friend. But I will happily dine with you.”

  And thus, the table was set some hour or so later, and the five of them – himself, Daphne and the Captain as well as his mother and Walter – were settled around it. Benedict found himself striving to keep the conversation flowing and of a light subject matter. He determined that his mother and Walter being seated so close beside one another would be inconsequential to him, and even more so to Daphne, who was seated to the right of his head at the table.

  Captain Robert had taken the chair on her other side. Lady Vivian was delighted to see the Captain again, and Benedict found himself immeasurably gratefully for his visit after all; Captain Fairbank entertained Lady Vivian so entirely with their discussion on the state of his affairs as well as those of his mother’s that one might almost forget the familial drama that had preciously pitted the four of them against one another entirely.

  Just as they had settled and the first course was about to be brought out, the butler made a second, unexpected announcement of arrival.

  As before, the butler kept his eyes on Benedict before bowing low. “Lady Winnifred Parker awaits your welcome in the hallway, Lord Gildon.”

  Beside him, Daphne wilted like a flower. Benedict was of a mind to shatter his glass against the wall. Could they not have a single moment of peace this day? He had done his best to entertain and forgive the first unwelcome guest – and had even managed to come around to forgiveness despite it. But somehow, he felt that chance would not arise for a second time. With a sigh that could only be described as exasperated, he excused himself from the table’s head and left into the hallway.

  He passed the butler through the open door and was upon her at once. She stood in the centre of the walkway, taking the time to fuss in the mirror she was gazing into before turning to him. A dazzling gown draped her tall frame, and her spun-gold hair was meticulously up-styled and clasped with crystal barrettes that matched the necklace she worn at her décolletage. He closed the door behind him and greeted her with a customary bow. She curtsied in response, showing teeth but not smiling. Her blue eyes were cold.

  “Good evening, Lady Parker.”

  “Oh, we are well far past formalities, Benedict. Let us not pretend otherwise.”

  Her abruptness prompted him to raise a brow. He straightened at her tone, wary.

  “I was hoping,” she began, stalking towards him, “that you would stop by my own residence at some point today.” She brushed past his shoulder and kept going, circling around him like some kind of predator-seductress. “As you can probably imagine, come the day’s end, I found myself rather dis-ap-point-ed.” She tapped out the syllables on his shoulder. He tried to shrug out of her reach, but she whirled around to face him again, that gossamer gown swirling like ink at her feet.

  Benedict’s mouth was parched. “And why, may I ask, did you expect that of me?”

  “I was expecting an apology, Lord Gildon,” she said slowly, enunciating in her proper accent as if he could not understand her language. “Do you not remember? How you not only elected to dance with that other woman, but then proceeded to leave with her, and without a single word of acknowledge to me, might I add.” She stared at him expectantly, all malice. “Have you nothing to say for the sheer mortification you caused me?”

  Benedict set his jaw. “Not especially.”

  “How dare you!”

  “A crisis emerged, and I attended to it,” Benedict said simply.

  “No,” she interjected. “You were so concerned with that country girl that you set about making a fool of not only the both of you, but of me as well. Now I am not aware of what happens out there in those pastures of yours, but here in London, where the respectable people reside, that kind of treatment is not tolerated.”

  “What do you want from me, Winnifred? Clearly it is not for an apology like you say.”

  “You need to be taught a lesson on etiquette, Benedict Gildon. I have not spent years developing my esteemed reputation only to have it tarnished by an Essex Lord and his hick friend.”

  Who on earth was this woman? Her blue eyes were bright as crystals but burned into his with insufferable potency. She was all grace and propriety but spat words of poison, her toxic demeanour entirely at odds with the beauty on her surface. Daphne was right – it was all just a disguise after all. This was truly the kind of woman he associated with? No wonder Daphne had been put off by her so immediately. She wasn’t even a Roberta – for at the very least that woman had some maturity about her. But not Lady Winnifred Parker, no; this woman was decidedly vulgar.

  “I am sorry, Winnifred,” he said as her tirade finally came to an end. She was just about to smile until he added. “But my hick friend is of far greater importance to me than someone like you could ever be. All I will promise you is that I am glad to have left you the way I did.”

  She gaped at him as if he had struck her. Before she could retort anything further, the door behind them, the one Benedict had just come through, re-opened. Lady Vivian,
laying eyes on Winnifred, broke into a broad smile.

  “Oh, Lady Parker! How wonderful of you to join us. Please, come through; I will have the maid set you another place at the table.”

  Benedict put out his hand. “Actually, mother –“

  “Why, thank you, Lady Gildon,” Winnifred said, her voice softening. “Your hospitality is always refreshing.”

  His mother turned to Benedict and gave him the look she used to when she caught him playing in the stables, utterly withering. “Why have you kept her out here in the cold? Really, Benedict, where are your manners? Come along, my dear. I apologise for my son’s rudeness.”

  His mother took Winnifred by the arm, leading her through the doors and back into the light of the dining room. Benedict took a moment to compose himself; he knew it was unreasonable to want to throw her out into the street, but the sheer audacity of the woman to show up at his home, demand an unwarranted apology, and then insult the woman he…the woman he cared about. It was unheard of. That London etiquette she spoke so highly of? She had not taken a single page from that book.

  By the time he returned to the dining room himself, Lady Parker had taken the seat beside Captain Fairbank and the two were already engaged in what he was sure was just riveting conversation. He caught Daphne’s eye, noting the curious glint.

  She tilted her head slightly as he approached, gaze flicking between him and the pair who now sat beside her. His mother and Walter had changed places at the table so that Lady Vivian could sit closer to her fellow Ladyship. Benedict returned to his seat at the table’s head just as dinner was served.

  Knowing that he could not explain himself in their current company, Benedict gave Daphne what he hoped translated as a convincing smile. Everything is alright, he said with his eyes. She glanced once more at Winnifred, but something in her did seem to relax slightly. He wanted to reach out and take her hand where it lay over her fork, but he didn’t. Instead, he swallowed hard and returned his attention to whatever conversations were transpiring at the table.

  Captain Fairbank had Lady Parker enthralled in some tale of combat that he had clearly (based upon Daphne’s bored expression) told before. When he had finished relaying the narrative, he immediately set about asking after her own great feats, but not without first complimenting the Lady on her beauty, which he described as “almost overpowering”.

  Winnifred did not even give Benedict a second glance as she unabashedly flirted right back with the Captain. Try as she may have to install in him a shred of jealously, the cause was lost; Benedict had no interest in entertaining her any longer. Instead, he and Daphne kept mostly to themselves, concentrating on just getting through this meal without one of them needing to flee the table.

  After what seemed like the longest meal of his life, the party was finally finished with their food. But alas, before the formalities could be wrapped up, Walter stood and tapped at his glass with the back of his knife. All parties looked towards him with differing expressions.

  He cleared his throat. “How wonderful it is to have more guests to celebrate with us this evening. Captain Fairbank, Lady Parker, tonight was a splendid night to choose to join us.”

  Daphne leaned forward slightly in her seat. “Father, what is going on?”

  “I have an announcement to make!” He raised his glass as if to cheer, but then turned to Lady Vivian. “Or rather, I should say that we have an announcement to make.”

  A finger of ice crept up Benedict’s spine. Beside him, Daphne grew very still. Surely not…

  Walter put a hand to his chest. “I have asked for Lady Vivian Gildon’s hand in marriage.”

  Benedict’s heart stopped. Daphne dropped her spoon and brought her hands to her mouth.

  “And she has accepted!”

  Lady Vivian stood alongside her now-betrothed. She smiled as he took her hand in his. “This is a wonderful decision that we are both very happy about. After so long of having known each other, and many years of friendship, our families will be joined.”

  “We have decided to leave London and return to Essex,” Walter went on, “in order to make preparations for the wedding.”

  Captain Fairbank burst into a round of applause. “Well, this is just wonderful! How lucky I am indeed to have chosen this very night to join you. Congratulations to both of you.”

  He was alone in his celebration, for the three remaining dinner guests looked on in horror. Benedict could not even compose himself enough to check on Daphne’s welfare. It had been one night – a single night – and his mother had agreed to marry Walter Blanton. Thoughts ran through his head like a herd of rogue stallions. The happy couple went on talking, but everything that entered Benedict’s ears came through as warbled nonsense. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his that he was broken from his state of shock. Daphne looked on at their parents with the same expression as him. For a fleeting second, Benedict found within himself a deep, deep comfort. There was a resonance there, because Daphne met his eye.

  Whatever happened now, they were in it together.

  Chapter 12

  At The Gildon’s London Home

  The day was melancholy. Grey skies as far as the eye could see overshadowed the rooftops of the city. There was a bite in the air that nipped at Daphne’s hands as she stood in the doorway of the Gildon’s London home. She felt as drab as the sun that was trying its hardest to beam through the haze. Like smiling through pain. She had been doing a lot of that lately, too.

  As she watched Benedict’s carriage pull away, his arm raised at her from within and a wan smile stretched tight over his face, she felt a pang of sadness within her. Though she knew, as he had told her, that he would have stayed by her side if he could; the feeling still hit like a blow. If he had not already had plans with his city friends today, they would have spent the day together. The mood would not have been light, but at least she wouldn’t be in mourning alone. But instead, she was alone, or at least without his company, for weren’t the two one and the same?

  She did not move from her position by the door until Benedict’s carriage was long out of sight, and even then, it took a few deep breaths and a whole lot of courage before she felt able to leave her position and return to the warmth of the house. They had not had the chance to speak too long last night, for both had felt so drained by their parents’ announcement that they had both immediately wanted to retire at the conclusion of the meal.

  In fact, Daphne had found herself so caught up in this new disaster that she had not even thought to ask what was so important to Lady Parker that she had not only interrupted dinner but had proceeded to keep Benedict alone in the hall for so long that the meal had been further delayed.

  All she knew was that at the conclusion of whatever that exchange was, Lady Parker had been invited to dine with them. She knew that Benedict had been trying to explain himself without words, but her nerves had been so frazzled that her perception of his expression was likely compromised.

  Their trip to London thus far had been brief, and yet so much had transpired since leaving Essex that each moment she stopped to reflect on how she felt about everything, one thing kept catching her. A part of her – the largest part – was afraid to truly analyse why she had been feeling so tumultuous for the duration. It seemed that, more and more, her mood was dependent upon her interactions with her friend.

  Her affections for him had grown so much, but that was only natural, right? Considering all Benedict had done for her, and for her father? It was only right that she should feel such warm appreciation for her oldest and dearest companion after all they had experienced together.