She could not help but notice that Benedict and his escort had remained on the dance floor and were looking to partake in a second one together. Benedict had not even greeted her tonight, nor complimented her gown, or paid her attention of any kind. It was bothering her much more than it should have, especially considering the beauty of his escort. Why was she surprised? Though he asked her, it was only out of politeness. He was her chaperone, not her partner; they were friends, not courting.
Courting. Is that what Lady Parker believed she and Benedict were doing? Were they? Benedict had not clarified that with Daphne, but considering they were still dancing together, and they had made acquaintance with one another on two separate occasions (and that was only what Daphne knew of), perhaps it would only be fair to assume that was their relationship.
The idea that Benedict would do that to her filled her with sadness. What was even more frustrating was that her feelings were entirely unfounded. She did not have feelings for Benedict – he was her friend, nothing more.
The second dance ends and a second round of applause goes up. Daphne set her glass down on a table and took the Captain’s arm in hers.
“Please, Captain Fairbank, dance with me again?”
He almost choked on the punch he was drinking. “Why, of course. Lead the way.”
She did, pulling him back into the room with too much fervour, but she had no doubt that the Captain would find her enthusiasm flattering instead of pushy. The next dance was a waltz, and Daphne arranged herself close to the Captain. He was smiling down at her, looking slightly dazed, but nonetheless cheerful about what was happening.
She knew that Benedict and Lady Parker had not left the floor yet, and she made a point to be noticed this time around. As the music started up and the dancing began, she did not stray from her attentions to the Captain this time. He beamed down at her and for a moment she thought that he might just be smitten with her. At the very least he was lavishing her undivided attention.
“How are you enjoying your first ball of the season, Captain?”
He stepped in time with her. “This may just be my favourite one yet.”
“But it is only the first!”
“The first of this season, yes,” he replied. “But I have been to many a ball in my time, Miss Blanton.”
Daphne nodded. “And of these many, many balls, had you many partners to dance with?”
“Oh, plenty,” the Captain replied, still smiling. “I am quite the catch, you know. My dance card is usually full.”
Daphne believed it, and it was clear why that would be the case. “Well, I am sorry for stealing you away from so many potential partners.”
“Do not be sorry, my sweet Daphne. As long as you are dancing with me, you are not dancing with any other man.”
Was he saying this in jest? He seemed jovial enough, but that was starting to become his default demeanour.
“Are you a jealous man, Captain Fairbank?”
Though he kept right on smiling, he did flex his brow at the question. “I could not say – I do not think of myself as a jealous man. There is nothing another man could have that I could not also obtain.”
Daphne’s smile began to fade. “You seem quite sure of that.”
“Look at me, Daphne. I am a Captain and a Lord. My mother is one of the most respected ladies in London. I come from wealth and good breeding and have an excellent reputation both among my peers and within the general community. If there is something I want, I can have it. It has always been that way. I am not a jealous man – I am a man to be jealous of.”
Impulsively, Daphne blurted out, “And what of your connections to good society? Have you not heard of the scandal that has rocked my family?” Regret seized her the instant the words left her mouth, but to her shock, the Captain just laughed.
“There is nothing I do not hear, Miss Blanton. My mother is a proud gossip and a friend of Baron Townsend. Had we not agree to host you for dinner that evening, we would have attended that same soirée that your dolt father was carried away at.”
It was only thanks to her years of practice that Daphne was able to keep up with the steps of the waltz whilst also gaping in horror at Captain Fairbank. He knew? He knew of the scandal, of her father’s run-in with Baron Townsend, and presumably Roberta? And yet he remained her escort and was of favourable company?
“But your father, so I heard, also has solid investment ties in the trade routes.”
So there it was: the truth. “Is that why you asked me to be your escort, then?”
“Do not twist my words, Miss Blanton. I asked to escort you because I wanted to. I find you charming, and my mother likes you very much. It is obvious to me that you are nothing like your father and that you are looking out for his welfare as much as your own. I admire that.”
Now she was even more confused. Was he using her for the dowry that was attached to her name? Or was he genuinely interested in her despite the scandal?
“You may not believe me,” he said. The dance had come to an end, and they went on talking as the people around applauded. “But I like you. I find your personality to be a complement to my own. The fact that there is a handsome penny attached to your name has little to do with it. It is a means to a comfortable life, nothing more.”
“Captain Fairbank, I believe I was about to misjudge you.”
He shrugged at this remark. “I would not have blamed you for doing so. You have had more to contend with that the average woman these past few months.”
She took his hands. “It appears you know more about me that I know of you. I would like for that to change, if you were willing.”
“You would like to know me?”
“Yes.”
Daphne could not believe that this was all a ruse. She felt earnestly that he had been open and honest with her about his feelings, and that despite what was occurring in her life, he remained available to her. She would be a fool to reject him now, for she had no other prospects.
“My being with you will bring you nothing but benefits, Miss Blanton,” he said. “I can offer you protection, security and status. Your beauty has enchanted me, and I find your demeanour entirely agreeable.”
She cannot help but blush deeply. Flattered, she smiled at him. “I could have great affections for you, Captain Fairbank.”
Naturally, Benedict chose that moment to interrupt them. In the middle of the dance floor, no less.
“Good evening, Miss Blanton,” he said.
“Good evening, Lord Gildon,” she replied. She motioned to her partner. “I believe you know Captain Robert Fairbank?”
“That I do,” Benedict replied. “You look well, Captain.”
The Captain dipped his head. “That I am, Lord Gildon. It has been many years since I have seen you. I trust you have been keeping well?”
“I have been trying my best. How are you enjoying the evening so far?”
Daphne glanced between each of them as they spoke, but she was intentionally keeping herself closer to the Captain’s side. Benedict certainly noted this for his eyes flickered to the narrow space between them.
Captain Fairbank smiled. “I have had a most wonderful evening. Miss Blanton is a wonderful partner and a lovely dancer.”
“I cannot say I have had the pleasure of a dance with Miss Blanton,” Benedict said, then turned to Daphne, “But I wondered if I could have the next one?”
Everything about the way Benedict said the words told Daphne that it was not really a question; he wanted to talk to her, alone. She took a moment to glance around the room; Lady Parker was nowhere in sight. She looked up at the Captain.
“Would you allow me a dance with Lord Gildon, my dear Captain?”
She could feel Benedict bristle at that, but Captain Fairbank just smiled and waved his hand at them. “Certainly, Miss Blanton. I could use a break myself.”
A look passed between the two men that Daphne could not quite decipher, then he was gone. Unsure of how exactly to begin an
exchange, Daphne asked where Benedict’s partner had got to.
“She has retired to the terrace for the time being,” Benedict replied. “Something about poor stamina. I suspect she may not have found me a very good dancer.”
“I suppose I can review that suspicion for you,” Daphne said dryly as they took up their positions for the next dance. As the music began again, Daphne found herself growing more and more frustrated. Of all the times to come and finally ask her to dance, why did he choose the one moment that she wanted to be private? She had no doubt that Benedict had heard what she had said to the Captain. Judging by the storm cloud on Benedict’s face, he had definitely heard more than he wanted to.
“So,” Daphne said once they were close, “Did you ask Lady Parker to escort you, or did she demand it of you?”
“I’ll have you know that I asked her,” Benedict said coolly. “And that she was thrilled.”
“I must admit, I am surprised she didn’t already have an escort. She seems the sort to keep a list of potential suitors on call.”
Benedict frowned at her. “You seem awfully judgemental for someone who has never had a conversation with her.”
“One does not need to have a conversation with Lady Winnifred Parker to know exactly what kind of woman she is.”
“Oh?” Benedict pressed. “And what kind of woman is she then, pray tell? Since you are such a great judge of character.”
“I am a good judge of character,” Daphne said. “I have met enough Robertas and Winnifreds to know a witch when I see one.”
“Well clearly you have not met enough Captain Fairbanks to know a self-centred dandy when one asks you to dance.”
Daphne scoffed. “Captain Fairbank is not self-centred.”
“In case it wasn’t clear, I have known the Fairbanks my entire life, Daphne. Robert Fairbank is convinced the sun only rises to greet him each morning.”
Daphne goes to defend him, but Benedict ploughs ahead.
“Whatever he has told you, whatever he has assured you, is not the truth. He seeks things only for his personal gain. His family have lost their money and their ties and often rely on the charity of my mother. He likely heard you were worth a ten-thousand-pound dowry and sees you as nothing more than a stack of coins and a way out.”
Daphne gaped at him, unable to comprehend how much she was wounded by his words. But she was trapped in the middle of a dance, and so she resorted to the only other defence she has: her own words.
“Well if a good partner matters to you so much, why are you traipsing around with a woman who is only interested in you for your title? Lady Parker is an opportunist through and through, and if you had half as much brains as you did money, you would be able to see that. She is an insult to good women everywhere.”
“It seems both of us are being played for the fool, then,” Benedict snapped. “Let’s see which one of us is right.”
The music stopped, the applause began. The dance was over. Daphne didn’t even stop to bow to Benedict; she turned on heel and made to leave. She was halfway across the room when she heard them: the whispers.
She could not make them out in their entirety, but there was one phrase that is seemingly repeated. A name.
Walter Blanton.
Her father was here? He should be in Essex by now – why are people talking about him? Lady Vivian had promised to alleviate the damages, so why were the guests of her own ball now talking?
Then she realised that she was wrong: her father was not in Essex, he was here. He was here, and none other than Lady Vivian was on his arm. She was dressed in that divine gown, and he in a fine suit. Both were smiling and waving, greeting the guests around them and brushing off the questions that come their way.
Daphne could do nothing but stand and watch as they approached. Finally, her father looked at her, absolutely beaming. He had done it: he has secured himself a worthy partner. Daphne was in utter disbelief. Her father, and Benedict’s mother? Was this Lady Vivian’s great plan to ensure that nothing ill would come of this scandal? To show up as the host of her own ball with none other than the supposed-to-be guest of honour, the disgraced Walter Blanton?
All the chatter in the room revolved around this new couple, and now people are starting to look and point to Daphne. They were drawing the immediately connection, for how many other Blantons could there possibly be? How was this meant to be a resolution? Not only did Lady Vivian hide this from her, but her father had as well.
He had not gone home at all, but clearly stayed on in the house in secret whilst she believed him to be heading back to Essex, tail between his legs. They had both lied, and for what? To end up as partners themselves? Daphne could not ascertain what either of them truly had to gain from this venture, aside from becoming the new running joke.
Daphne put her hands to her face just as she felt someone come up beside her. She did not have to turn to know that it was Benedict.
“We can make peace on this, right?” Daphne said to him. Their previous bickering was surely forgotten in the face of such a monumental disaster. “Please, Benedict, tell me you didn’t know anything about this?”
Benedict looked at his mother and her father as she does, until the staring and the pointing of the rest of the room around them captures both of them. Soon the voices would be louder than the music. Daphne’s head was swimming and she could not seem to find a coherent thought anywhere.
“I promise, Daphne,” Benedict said beside her. “I knew nothing. Last I heard your father was going home. You told me that.”
“I cannot believe this,” she whispered. “I cannot believe this is happening.”
She stepped forward, then again, then again, until she was hurrying across the floor and pushing past people. She had to get out, she had to get away. The stares, the whispers, the laughter, it was all too much for her. She could hear Benedict calling out, hear him in pursuit of her, but she could not stop. Not now. She had to get away from it all before she collapses, before she crumbles.
But Benedict caught her on the stairs, taking her by the hand and pulling her towards him. She stumbled into his chest as he brought her close to her. With his arms around her, he tried to urge her to calm down.
“I cannot calm down!” she cried. “This is the most mortified I have ever been. And Benedict, your mother…”
“Please, let us go somewhere and talk about this,” Benedict pleaded. “We’ll leave the ball – I doubt anyone will miss us now. Please Daphne, you cannot run from this.”
“No,” she said as firmly as she could muster. She pushed off his chest and broke out of his arms. Her dress was suddenly stifling and she wanted to pull her jewels from her own neck. “No, I do not want to talk. I need space. Do not follow me, Benedict.”
“I just want to make sure you’re okay–“
“After everything that has happened, how could I ever be okay?” With that, she took the stairs as quickly as her heavy dress and dainty shoes will allow her to. If she had somewhere else to go beside this house, she would. But she is out of options, and it was all too clear to her, as she locked herself into her room, that the people below her were no doubt talking about her still.
Even on the far side of the house and through the locked door, she could hear their whispers leaking in beneath the door. Whether imagined or not, it did not matter. She could not escape.
Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 14
