Once Upon a Dreamy Match: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  She looked down at the ring and gasped.

  “Benedict…”

  He smiled up at her from his kneeling position.

  “Yes, Benedict,” she cried at last. “A thousand times, yes.” Extending her hand towards him, he took it in his and slid the perfect ring upon her finger. Rising at last, he captured her face in his hands and finally, at long last, pressed a slow, sweet kiss to her lips. She sighed into it, leaning forward and drinking in this memory, willing it to last forever in her mind.

  When they finally broke apart, both beaming from their hearts, Daphne turned to examine the ring more closely.

  “Benedict, this is –“

  “Your mother’s wedding ring, yes.”

  “But how? Roberta had stolen everything.”

  Benedict took her arm and led her to the trellis bench, where they took a seat alongside one another in the shade of the cascading wisteria. “I paid Baron Townsend a visit before my departure from London. It was a final errand, of sorts.”

  “But how did you manage to collect this from them?”

  Benedict took her newly-jewelled hand in his, holding it softly. “One thing I was certain of is that Roberta is a most prideful woman. Shame is something that she just cannot fathom, and so I used this to my advantage during our confrontation.”

  “Confrontation? Oh Benedict, what did you do?”

  “Nothing that was not long-deserved,” he replied with a knowing grin. “You would have loved it Daphne, if only you had been there to witness it. The expression on her face when I called her out as a wicked, wily woman with as few morals as she had decency.”

  “You did not say that!” Daphne gasped.

  Benedict chuckled. “That and worse. On second thought, perhaps it was fortunate that you were not present to witness that after all.” He leaned back on the bench, taking in the whole sight of her. She blushed under his flattering gaze, his eyes warm in the golden light of the day. His dark hair had grown some, but the windswept look suited him, just as he had told her it suited her all those months ago.

  There would be no more stomping across the grass without a carriage. Now she would be the new Lady Gildon, only having to travel as far as the next room to see her beloved Benedict. The thought sent a thrill through her, filling her up with unstoppable glee.

  “And before you ask, no; that is not the only piece I managed to have returned.”

  She looked at him. “You are an incredible man, Benedict Gildon.”

  “And now you have an incredible husband to look forward to for the rest of our lives.”

  She swatted his shoulder at his playful tone, but then her expression turned serious. “Things are about to change, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “For the better. You will never have to worry about being alone again, Daphne. I will always be here to support you. As your friend, your ally, and as your partner in life.”

  Daphne took both of his hands. “And I promise that you will always come first. You will never again have to take on a burden alone. I will be the best wife that a man could ever have – and the best Lady a Lord could have.”

  They sat together for an hour more, finally enjoying the bliss of finding themselves in one another.

  ***

  The wedding was to be held that very summer in the chapel on Hedingham Estate. Within just a few months of her engagement to Benedict, Daphne Blanton would become Lady Daphne Gildon. The excitement of her preparations overshadowed anything else that was currently going on.

  She and Grace, together with Gretel (for the banquet arrangements) and Lady Vivian (for the formalities and when she was available to visit from London), would plan the proceedings long into the evening, only retiring out of necessity and not out of want. The ceremony was not going to be grand affair with hundreds of guests; it would be a moderate celebration.

  Daphne was especially choosy with the guest list, but Benedict was more than happy to comply with his soon-to-be-wife’s decisions. He was too caught up in the prospect of finally being able to call his best friend his wife to become overly involved in the actual planning itself. Not that the women minded, for they were enjoying the process far too much on their own to seek any assistance from the men.

  Of all the people who would be in attendance of the ceremony, it was Daphne’s father who was most nervous. He was so riddled with excitement that he had grown anxious, and often busied himself with worried about any kind of circumstance that would hinder the happy couple from finally being united.

  The night before the wedding, Daphne had sat with him all evening, coaxing comfort into his nervous bones. She could not blame the man, for someone with only one successful relationship out of many mistakes and failures was bound to be concerned after the welfare of his only daughter.

  It was a surprise to everyone that Jasper and Lionel had wanted to be more involved with the proceedings. In the end, it was decided that they would be part of the wedding party supporting the groom. When Daphne had first laid eyes upon her little brothers in their new suits, she had laughed until tears had flowed freely. Jasper had thought their sister was mocking him.

  “I’ll take to your wedding dress with mud pies and scissors,” he had warned, a bright flush creeping into his cheeks.

  Lionel had punched his brother’s shoulder. “She’s happy, you carrot farmer. Besides, we look like clowns in this garb anyway. If I were Daphne, I’d be laughing at you, too.”

  The two had tousled then, and it had taken both Gretel and Grace to separate the two boys before their suits had been ruined. But Lionel was right: Daphne was happy, so overwhelmingly happy. The changes she had seen not only in herself, but in all of her loved ones surrounding, was immense.

  She could not be entirely sure if it was just her perception that was the true change, for she was happy each and every day she woke in the knowledge that she was going to marry Benedict, but at the very least there had not been a single incident, scandal or disaster to occur since she and Benedict had shared the happy news.

  The old Daphne would normally be worried that things were going as well as they were, for did that not mean that inevitable catastrophe was looming? But this new, optimistic Daphne had no such anxiety, for even if something drastic were to befall them, she was surrounded by people who would support one another. What did she have to fear when she had her Lord of Hedingham on her side?

  “You look a picture, my dear,” her father said to her now. He was watching her in the mirror’s reflection, and she caught his eye in it. She felt like a queen in her white gown and veil, her hair elegantly braided around the crown as none other than Winnifred had demonstrated to her in their chance meeting a few weeks ago. Benedict and Daphne had been in London to visit his mother, where she had been dining with the Fairbanks, including the newly-married Lady Fairbank and her doting Captain.

  Whatever coldness used to exist between Winnifred and them had dissolved; the Lady had softened in marriage, content in a way that none of them likely ever believed possible. That night had been another full of surprises, but the dynamic between each party had shifted so dramatically that it felt as though they were all getting to know each other again as if for the first time. That was the night that Daphne had extended the wedding invitations to Captain and Lady Fairbank.

  Daphne floated through the hall of Hedingham Manor with her father on her arm, dazzled by the memories that had haunted and charmed her these last few months. She felt grown, infinitely wiser than she had ever thought possible in her mere twenty years.

  “I am so proud of you, Daffodil,” her father whispered as the two of them emerged from the house and descended the steps of the castle to the awaiting carriage. “You have no idea the happiness this union has brought me.”

  “Oh, I can imagine,” was Daphne’s light-hearted response. “I am about to wed a Lord, after all.”

  Her father chuckled as the door closed behind them. “And not just any Lord, either. In that case, I cannot express to you
how excited I am to have another son.”

  “Speaking of,” Daphne began, “I hope you will ensure that they behave themselves after the ceremony. I know they promised me no nonsense during our vows, but the clever boys made no mention of the reception. Please, father, keep an eye on them.”

  “It is already covered, my dear,” her father replied, a curious smile upon his face. “I think you’ll find that Grace is quite the chaperone.”

  Daphne laughed. “I can believe that, actually; she’s kept you in check so far.”

  “I have kept myself in check, Daffodil, because I do not want the new housekeeper to tire of me.”

  Daphne rolled her eyes in jest. “That is, in essence, the same thing, dear father.”

  At last, the carriage approached the mouth of the chapel, which had been lined with flowers at Daphne’s own request. She wanted an abundance of florals on display, even insisting that she create her own bouquet. Exiting the carriage as a Blanton for the final time, she retrieved it now from Prudence, who was waiting for Miss Daphne and Mr. Blanton by the chapel doors.

  Her eyes widened as she beheld the young woman’s appearance. “Miss Daphne, you look simply divine.”

  “Thank you, dear Prudence,” Daphne replied with a swell in her breast. She took a deep breath and clutched her father’s arm tighter. Sharing a look and a single nod, they two entered the vestibule, where Daphne took a moment to ready herself with a great sigh. She was glad her father was here to give her away; it was going to take every fibre of her to keep from running down the aisle to Benedict, just as she had raced through her lavender garden.

  She turned to the chapel arch, spying a peek at the lavishly decorated interior. The great walls were light with the natural light of the Sunday sun, which was streaming through the stained-glass windows and spraying beautiful colours into the aisle. As if it were the invitation she needed, she began her journey down it.

  The pews were full of the guests who had so graciously accepted her invitation. Among them she spied Captain Robert and Lady Winnifred Fairbank, as well as Lady Angelica Fairbank sitting further up the rows with a handsome soldier of her own at her shoulder.

  On her other side, she met the eyes of Grace, Gretel and even Matilda, who had returned to witness the ceremony at Benedict’s invitation. She did not recognise the people beside her old housekeeper – they must be the new family she was now attending – but they smiled back at Daphne as if they were long-time friends.

  Finally, Daphne drew her gaze ahead of her and to the altar, where Benedict was waiting alongside the priest and the sexton. He was dressed in a modest suit, his status as a Lord only given away by a medallion that had been strapped to his chest. Being caught in his gaze was like being under the direct rays of the sun: it filled her with light and warmth. She kept her eyes on him as she approached, until finally, with a kiss upon her cheek, her father released her to the man she would be with forever.

  He took in all of her, from the veiled crown of her head, to her mother’s jewels at her neck, to the delicate lace bodice and silk skirt of her wedding gown. The train of the dress draped the steps to the alter like a white waterfall. For a moment, they were the only two people in the room, perhaps even the world. The time for them to proclaim their love and devotion, to be at last joined by these sacred bonds, had arrived. As their family and friends looked on – each face a smiling mirror of the one beside it – everything fell into its rightful place.

  Epilogue

  Lady Daphne Gildon walked the familiar path that joined Hedingham Manor to the adjacent stables. Her husband Benedict had eluded her all morning and the only conclusion she could draw was that he was out with his beloved horse, Alexander.

  Though Daphne thought the brutish stallion intimidating and wild, she had enough courage to appreciate his power…from a safe distance. Perhaps Benedict had put him out in the arena to blow off some steam for the both of them.

  The stress of her announcement to him just a few days ago was playing a role in his periods of solitude, but Daphne could not say that she blamed him. He was, after all, about to be a father, and so soon after he had become a husband. While he had been overjoyed at her announcement initially, his anxiety had grown as he began to realise the implications of what fatherhood would mean.

  She knew in her heart that bringing a child into this world would make Benedict miss his own father. Who would he call upon for guidance? Her own father had been ecstatic, dancing around for days and telling everyone he happened upon that he would have a little Lord or Lady grandchild.

  Daphne rounded the arena grounds and scouted a stable boy. “Where is Lord Gildon?”

  “In town, Lady Gildon,” the boy replied. “Been gone a good while, but he’s due back with her soon, I imagine.”

  She frowned, placing a nervous hand over her belly. “With her?”

  Suddenly, the stable boy clapped his hands over his mouth. “I’m sorry, your Ladyship! He asked me not to tell!”

  With that exclamation, he ran off and disappeared into the barn. What on earth was the boy talking about? Benedict would never leave her alone without telling her. She could only wonder at what had gotten into him. Was he really so distressed by the news, by the pressure it brought with it, that he had fled? And who was this mysterious ‘she’ that he was supposed to be returning with?

  As she turned to return to the house, her heart the distant clacking of hooves on the driveway. Coming around the front of the house, a carriage approached. Benedict did not immediately notice his wife from her position beside the house, but after she called to him, he whirled.

  “My darling!” he called across the drive. “You have spoiled your own surprise!”

  He hurried over to her, taking her arm and leading her over to the carriage. At last Daphne noticed what was trailing the carriage: a beautiful golden horse was tied to the cabin’s rear.

  “A mare,” Benedict proclaimed. “A gift for you –“ he pressed a kiss to her flushed cheek, “- and for the babe, once he or she is born. I plan to breed this beauty with Alexander. Imagine – a family of horses to match our own family.”

  Daphne was speechless. The mare was easily the most divine creature she had ever seen. Though she did not know nearly as much about the beasts as her Lord husband, she knew well enough that Palominos were exceptionally uncommon. The pale horse shook out her mane with a whinny, eager to be detached from the carriage and set free.

  “She’ll take some breaking,” Benedict went on, “as she quite young still. I’ll be working with her myself. I promise you, my love, she will be a dream riding companion. And when our child is born, I will teach them just as I taught you.”

  Daphne turned to him. “This is why you have been spending so much time absent?”

  “I was hoping to surprise you! I had to rush my plans once you announced your pregnancy. I was so caught up with all the excitement, and I know I have been neglectful. But at last, I can share this gift with you, just as you are sharing yours with me. With us.”

  He led her over to the mare, who turned her glossy head towards them. She had an ethereal glow about her, so bright it was almost blinding. She looked finely made and well-bred, with a sizeable frame and startling blue eyes.

  “What will you call her?” Benedict asked.

  Reaching out a cautious hand, Daphne held her breath as she stroked the gossamer horse along her silky neck. The mare did not flinch away, instead looking at Daphne with trusting eyes. She noticed Benedict’s surprise from beside her.

  “She would barely let me brush her. I suppose she needs a woman’s touch.”

  Daphne laughed as the mare came a step closer, lowering her head and allowing Daphne to wind her fingers through her pale mane. “She is a lady, and that is what I will call her. My golden Lady.”