Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Read online

  Mr. Blanton took in the spread before him. “Ah, well, that is a matter that fluctuates on a near day-by-day basis, my good man. I am sure my Daphne has alluded to the woes I have been facing.” He gave his daughter a pointed look, laced with humour, as if the thought of Daphne sharing the plight of her father and her family was comical to a degree. Then he tucked into his breakfast with the most fervour she had seen all week.

  “I wanted to discuss a matter with you this morning,” Benedict went on.

  “Ah, so you have lured me in with the food and have now trapped me in this conversation,” Mr. Blanton said through a mouthful, but he was still smiling.

  Benedict smiled right back at him. “Consider it a peace offering.” He paused for a beat, then said, “I was hoping to convince you to let your daughter accompany me to London for the season.”

  Mr. Blanton paused, met Benedict’s eye, and swallowed. “London, you say?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And she would be attending with you, Benedict? As in you would be chaperoning?”

  Benedict nodded, entirely oblivious to the nervousness of Daphne behind him. She twisted her hands into knots as she examined the expressions that flitted through her father’s face. His brows were drawn together and he pulled a hand to his chin to rub it thoughtfully.

  “My mother would also be joining us, the Lady Vivian.” Benedict turned to Daphne then. “We had discussed it at length before the events of the past two weeks unfolded.”

  Mr. Blanton looked up at his daughter, and she nodded.

  “The Lord and Lady Gildon were so kind as to offer me chaperone and board,” Daphne confirmed.

  “It is all arranged,” Benedict said in such a tone that one could only assume he was prompting the older man to speak. Mr. Blanton was still quiet, still ruminating whilst his breakfast steamed before them.

  Benedict leaned forward and took the old man’s shoulder into his hand. “I ask nothing of you save that you let your daughter enjoy the season in London. She is so young and opportunity is so ripe. As her friend I could not bear the thought that she would miss out and surely, as her beloved father, you feel the same?”

  The moment that passed between the two men made Daphne feel as though she was privy to something private; some secret understanding of men unfolded between them in the silence that caused Mr. Blanton to look first at Benedict, then to his daughter, then to his plate of food.

  Then he looked back at Daphne. “You have worked so hard to care for me, and I will be eternally grateful that I have a daughter as kind as you are.”

  She stood in silence, her hands clutched together and with baited breath.

  “Benedict is right – you cannot spend your life looking after this old man, especially during the season of opportunity when so much is awaiting your arrival in London.” He turned to the young man sitting before him on the bed again. “Yes, Lord Gildon, I accept. My daughter will accompany you to London. Not to allow her to do so would be a crime of good conscience.”

  Benedict shook her father’s hand once again. “Thank you, sir. I promise that I will take the very best of care. She will be treated like a Gildon and will surely have just the best time. Right, Daphne?”

  She met his eye and was flooded with the overwhelming urge to run to them, to throw her arms around both of them. But she settled herself with a sharp breath and resigned herself to a simple nod. “Yes, we will. Thank you so much, father.

  Mr. Blanton clapped his hands together. “Right! Well, it is all arranged then.” He immediately tucked back into his breakfast, gawking at the lavishness of the spread before him. “It would only be right that I allow this to happen, since you have brought such an incredible cook into my home. Contentedness reigns on all fronts, does it not?”

  Benedict laughed along with him. “Yes, indeed it does. My gratitude, Walter.”

  Daphne cleared her throat. “Well, if you’ll both kindly excuse me. It appears I have some packing to do.”

  The men waved her off in agreement. She departed quietly, shutting the door behind her before trailing the hall back to her own room. This was the right decision, wasn’t it? To leave her father during the height of his depression to busy herself with London? She knew that her father seemed so happy right now in Benedict’s company, but how much of it was genuine? Certainly her father was happy to see the young man, but would all these positive feelings and happiness dissipate once they left? Would he regret allowing his daughter to attend London, leaving him more or less alone?

  Back in her own room, she crossed to the cupboard where she stowed her luggage and retrieved her largest trunk. Once owned by her mother, it had scarcely seen any use since the season last year. She pulled it out and spread it open on the floor, ready to be filled with all manner of things she would be needing for the season. She was severely lacking in appropriate attire but was excited to shop in London and eventually fill the case to the brim.

  There were so many things to be excited for – attending the city in Benedict’s company first and foremost. But the apprehension that had made a home in her chest did not allow her to completely embrace her optimism. So much had happened of late that she was anxious not to be staying by her father’s side.

  But surely he and Benedict were both right – it would do no one any good to waste away by her father’s side whilst life continued to pass her by. Besides, now that the home had the additional help, she knew that her father would be in safe hands even without her in the house. Her brothers, too, would be watched over and looked after. She scarcely thought they would even pay much attention to their sister’s time away from home.

  Yes, this must be the right thing to do. She and Benedict would have a wonderful time in London and would meet a whole manner of diverse and interesting people. Among them they would surely encounter a kind woman who would make her father a loving wife, and all would be set well and right in the world.

  She believed it. She had to believe it.

  Chapter 7

  A Private Carriage Travelling to London

  As the full carriage pulled away from the house at last, Walter chuckled heartily.

  “Oh, well isn’t this just a grand turn of events?” he declared to nobody in particular. “To think that we will all soon be together in the city! Isn’t it exciting, Daffodil?”

  Beside him, Daphne nodded her agreement. “Yes, father. It is so wonderful that you decided to join us.”

  “Unexpected,” Benedict admitted aloud to the man opposite him, “but wonderful nonetheless.”

  It was not until the day before he and Daphne had planned to leave for London that Walter had, at the last possible moment, announced that he, too, would be joining them in their travels to London for the season. The initial shock of the proclamation had sent Daphne reeling and she had fretted to Benedict that her father had lost his poor mind. But Benedict had talked it through with the old man whilst Daphne continued to pack.

  He was convinced that Walter’s change of heart would do them both some good. His sons would not miss him, Benedict had assured Daphne, and the home would be peaceful without his wailing and ailing. Daphne had finally complied, and the very next day all four of them – Walter and Daphne Blanton, and Lord and Lady Gildon – had climbed aboard the Gildon’s premiere barouche and set off at last for London.

  It was certainly a different arrangement to what Benedict had previously conceived, but he was determined that the last-minute addition to their brigade would be a welcome one.

  Benedict leaned back in his seat. Addressing Walter again, he said, “I must admit, my dear man, that I did not believe you fond of the city. Has your opinion of London changed so much these last few days?”

  “It is true,” Daphne piped up, “that you have never before seemed so engaged by the idea of the city.” She twisted in her seat to face her father. “I was so surprised by your change of heart considering what I know of your relationship with the city.”

  “The country can be so
isolating,” Walter replied with his chin in his hands. “It is not always a bad thing, but I think the country is even more lonesome when you do not have somebody to spend your time with.”

  The four were silent for a moment. Benedict knew precisely what Walter was referring to, but he also knew that Daphne was determined not to allow her father to dwell on the women he had lost. This was, after all, supposed to be a positive trip for all parties.

  Daphne had expressed this to him whilst her father was packing. She had even gone so far as to admit to Benedict that she feared Walter would try to look for Roberta. Benedict had to admit that this could be a possibility, but London was such a large place that there was a very good chance Walter would be so swept up in the frivolity and crowd that he would entirely forget the wicked woman.

  So they both hoped.

  “And besides,” Walter finally continued. “Being in such fine company is sure to shake off my poor mood.”

  “Hear, hear,” Lady Gildon agreed. “I am glad that you have finally come to your senses, Mr. Blanton. One does not do well to wallow in his sorrows.”

  Benedict took his mother’s hand in his own and pressed it gently. She was one to know of sorrow. At the news of Walter joining them, she was initially against it, fretting, as Daphne did, that the man had some ulterior motive, but with some encouragement on the part of Benedict, she had eventually welcomed the decision by Walter. Still, Benedict was as determined for his mother to have an enjoyable time in London as he was for the rest of his party.

  Lady Vivian smiled at her son, patting his hand in return before letting go. Facing Walter, she cleared her throat.

  “Now, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you, Mr. Blanton, since I find myself in a position whereby you cannot escape my questions.”

  Walter crooked his head at the remark. “Oh? My dear Lady Vivian, pray tell. I am very curious to hear which matters of my life pique your interest so much.”

  “We are heading into London, Mr. Blanton, and in the prime of the season, too. Whilst I am sure there will be a great many suitors for our lovely children –“ she motioned to her son and his daughter –“I do believe that you, dear Walter, may indeed find yourself a potential companion.”

  Walter considered this, a bemused expression crossing his face. He shifted in his seat as he took in the composure of the great woman opposite him. As he studied their interaction, Benedict found himself wondering at the nature of their relationship. It was always for his first wife, the mother of Walter’s children, that Vivian had the greater affection for, but it was clear that the two parents were friendly with one another. If Benedict was grateful for one characteristic of his mother’s, it was that the Lady Vivian Gildon was an excellent judge of character.

  “Your previous choice,” Lady Vivian went on, “was not compatible with your own personality. If you are to be successful at any romantic or matrimonial endeavours, Mr. Blanton, you would do well to be more particular in who you select.”

  Benedict was sniggering behind his hand as Daphne stared pointedly out the window, looking as if she dearly wished to eject herself from the carriage and walk behind them rather than bear witness to the current conversation. Mr. Blanton’s face was still perplexed, but he was yet to interrupt the Lady.

  “A woman of even countenance and generous personality would suit a man like you well. She would need to be patient, everlastingly so, and able to entertain your imagination without allowing you to be too caught up in its frivolity.”

  Daphne caught Benedict’s eye and rolled her own, causing him to contort his mouth and stifle the laughter that threatened to burst forth and earn him a stern talking-to of his own. He tried to follow Daphne’s lead by watching the world pass them by, but it was just mile after mile of the same field and fence and cottage property.

  They had exited the grounds of Hedingham and were journeying further into the Essex countryside. Their view threatened to bore them to death; it seemed they must either insert themselves, somehow, into this conversation, or waste away before they reached the city.

  “I am sure your daughter would agree,” Lady Vivian said, gesturing to Daphne, “that a mild-mannered woman is best suited to counteract your own…quirks. Someone who is headstrong and pessimistic would be nothing but a damper on your spirit.”

  Daphne, put on the spot, concurred. “Lady Vivian raises a fair point, dear father.”

  “Oh, this is all nonsense,” Walter said at last, causing Lady Vivian to frown and Daphne to recoil from him. “I can appreciate the sentiment, my Lady Vivian, but all this advice is lost on me. I do not need it.”

  Benedict’s mother promptly snorted her disbelief. “I wholeheartedly disagree, good sir.”

  “Not in the way you must imagine!” Walter appeared to be back-pedalling, having realised the way in which he had offended her. “I mean to say that this advice is not necessary for I will not be remarrying.”

  Lady Vivian pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. Daphne just stared at her father, shocked or confused to silence.

  Since the ladies were rendered mute, it was Benedict who asked for clarification.

  Walter nodded and folded his arms across his chest. “I will not remarry. I have decided that it is no longer in my interest to find myself a wife. Two times has been enough for this weary heart. No more.”

  Daphne’s mouth opened and closed, and Benedict could only wonder at the thoughts that must be passing through her mind right now. Her plan was to find him a wife, and she had asked Benedict for his help in doing so. They had planned to connect her father with a suitable woman who would be of good companionship for him, for it was what they both believed would be good for him and allow him to heal. Was he so heartbroken over Roberta, or so scornful of the idea of love now, that he was giving up?

  Daphne grasped her father’s arm, and her words mirrored Benedict’s thoughts. “You do not wish to meet someone new, father?”

  “I do not, my Daffodil,” Walter replied. “Instead, my new focus in life is to find you a suitable companion. It is you, Daphne, who should be focusing on marriage, not I.”

  Daphne threw herself back into the seat of the carriage, clearly frustrated. Benedict wanted to reach out and comfort her, but the confines of the carriage and the current presence of their parents made it difficult to do so. All he could offer her was what he hoped she interpreted as a supportive glance.

  “Well, it is not for a lack of trying, father, that I have not met anyone who would call me ‘wife’,” she scoffed, folding her arms and turning once again to face out the window. The movement was childish, but it was plain to see, at least to Benedict, that her feelings were hurt by her father’s words.

  “Well, that is where I come in!” Walter announced. “I have a plan, Daffodil. You will see – there will be suitors lined up for miles outside Hedingham.”

  Benedict felt his mother shift beside him.

  “Oh?” the Lady said. “What devious schemes have you been developing in solitary confinement?”

  Walter puffed his chest. “There is a very large dowry awaiting the man who would successfully wed my Daphne.”

  Benedict had not known that Walter had come into any great sum of money, especially not recently when he had been absent from the direct trade for quite some time. Did he have other assets that he had not shared?

  His mother must have thought so, for she asked right away. “Mr. Blanton, what exactly is the nature of this dowry?”

  Benedict was taken aback by his mother’s brazenness; she was usually so discreet when it came to the subject of money. She was not usually one to talk about such manners in the presence of mixed company. He figured that since Walter was the one to broach the subject, it must be alright to question him further on it. But if there was ever a subject that would garner his mother’s attention, this was it. Besides, Benedict was himself curious as to what exactly Walter was alluding to.