“Daphne, dear, did you come alone?” Lady Vivian asked. She made eye contact with the butler, who shook his head in response. Returning her gaze to her guest, she added, “I see no chaperone with you.”
“Good morning, Lady Gildon–” Daphne paused to offer Vivian a curtsey, then turned to Benedict with a smile –“Lord Gildon.”
He returned her smile with a warmth that equalled her own.
After a brief moment, Daphne returned her gaze to Vivian to address the Lady’s question. “Yes, Lady Vivian, I did come alone this morning. But please do not fret – I found the walk to be quite refreshing.”
Lady Vivian scrutinised her appearance once more. In her mind, refreshing seemed an interesting choice of word. “It is quite unbecoming to be so reckless with one’s self, Daphne.”
Daphne would have known that Lady Vivian would be prompted to this kind of response. She was as familiar with the Lady’s character as she had been with her own mother’s. Whatever the reason for her being here, and for her arrival in the manner that she had, she must have a valid story to make up for it.
Benedict began to wonder what had happened in Daphne’s life lately for her to be so brazen in her appearance here today. It had not been especially long since the two had seen one another, but with his recent influx of responsibilities, the time he allowed himself to partake in casual encounters had decreased. The two had taken to writing each other out of sheer convenience rather than making the journey between each of their abodes.
“You ought to have sent word ahead,” Benedict said then, leaving the table to address his friend. “I would have been more than happy to arrange travel for you.”
Daphne nodded at him. “Thank you for the offer, and I would have done so had today’s visit not been so impromptu. I do apologise for my appearance, I meant not offence by it.”
She was sincere, and Benedict could not help but stifle a laugh at how serious her expression became. Did she think them so removed from her after spending only a short time apart?
“Honestly, I find this new look of yours to be quite in style.”
He was making a mockery of her, and Daphne knew it. Her expression relaxed immediately. She knew he was of too soft a soul to make her feel embarrassment over something as shallow as her dress. After all, she had walked the miles to be here. They could expect nothing less. And as he thought, there was surely some reasonable justification for it. She took his teasing in her stride, curtseying again.
“Don’t you agree, mother?” Benedict continued. “You look to be in good spirits with such a healthy flush upon the cheeks. Perhaps travelling alone suits you.”
Daphne laughed behind her hand and shook her head. Her dark hair had broken free of its confines and danced around her shoulders as she did so. “You are too kind, Lord Gildon.”
“Please, you know I insist you call me by my name. When have we ever been so formal?”
“My apologies, Benedict.” She had not stopped smiling since she had made her entry. The banter between them had always bought joy to their faces. Conversation was always so easy among friends.
He gestured back to the table and at the spread that lay in wait. “Will you join us, Daphne?”
She glanced at Lady Vivian for confirmation before joining them at the table. She settled herself across from the Lady at Benedict’s other side and tried to smooth out her appearance. She likely wished she had made a detour to allow herself a better effort to amending her hair and face, but it would not have mattered, for her dress was still stained at the bottom.
Benedict hid his laughter at the less-than-subtle attempt she made to tame her windswept hair.
“Leave it,” he said to her. “I mean what I say – the wild look suits you. I admire your tenacity in making the journey here.” Then, turning to his plate, he added, “If only there were more women as bold as you in this world, Daphne. I would be married already.”
Daphne laughed aloud, the lovely sound bouncing off the walls and resonating in Benedict’s ears. “Oh Benedict, you tease me so.”
Lady Vivian, however, was not laughing. Instead her face was tight, her mouth drawn. Her familiarity was gone and her tone was sharp. “You shouldn’t say such things, my son.”
Benedict regained his composure as he watched the laughter slip from Daphne’s lips. He sat straighter in his chair and turned to face his mother. Though she was always more stringent in her propriety, he was shocked by the severity of her tone. “Why ever not?”
“He only means to jest,” Daphne added quickly to diffuse the growing tension.
“I mean no offence, Daphne, of course,” Lady Vivian went on, dropping her fork from her lips. She said those words and yet her tone remained the same. Something within her must have undergone a recent shift. “But you are a merchant’s daughter. It would not be an acceptable pairing.”
Silence pervaded the table. None of the three were eating. Could Lady Vivian’s sudden change in personality, which was usually so easy-going around the merchant’s daughter, have something to do with their discussion that very morning? Was she so invested in the worth of a suitable wife that she would scoff at something as harmless as a jest?
Benedict released a breath. “Mother–”
“She is not gentry, my son. Your marriage must be within our own class. It is the natural order of things–”
“Do not talk about Daphne as if she is not right now sitting before you.” Benedict’s interruption invited another tense quiet to the table.
Lady Vivian frowned at her son, amazed by his outburst. It seemed that the morning had each brought them some level of surprise. How had they gone from this morning’s calm conversation to bickering so quickly? Moreover, how could even his Lady mother be so invested in the subject that she would be insensitive to their company? Daphne remained wordless, head down, plate of food entirely untouched. It had not been ten minutes past since she entered this establishment, and already the mood had soured beyond comparison.
“Again,” Lady Vivian said, “I do not say this to be offensive.” To Daphne, she added, “This is factual, not personal. You know I think of you like a daughter, Daphne. I have known you since you were a babe. Our families have been linked for as long as both of you can remember.”
“I understand, Lady Vivian,” Daphne cut in. She knew it was practically blasphemous to interrupt a Lady, but she did not wish for Vivian to humiliate either of them further with her lecture of appropriate social etiquette. “It was a jest. Nothing more. I would never take such a proposition seriously.”
Benedict looked at her, her downcast eyes, her avoidant gaze. Her discomfort permeated all corners of the large room. He felt it as if the feeling lived inside his own heart.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, mother, for your concern. We have already discussed at length your opinions on an appropriate match for me.”
Daphne raised her eyes from the table to look at him, a gentle crease grazing her forehead. She was not privy to this conversation, obviously, and it was likely uncouth to raise a subject she was uninvolved with, but Benedict excused his own rudeness on behalf of their continuation of the meal in peace.
“Let us leave this subject then,” Lady Vivian concurred. She glanced between her two of them and, seemingly satisfied that the conversation has indeed closed, goes right on ahead eating. Reluctantly and after a brief exchange of eyes, Daphne and Benedict go on to eat as well. But it is short-lived, for eventually Benedict rises from his plate of mostly untouched food.
“I am not altogether hungry at the moment. I will take my lunch later.” This statement was directed to his mother. He turns to Daphne then, noting her plate is very much similar to his own. Extending his hand, he then asks, “Would you care to accompany me on a check of the estate, Miss Blanton?”
His use of formality was surely a pinch at the manners of his mother, who narrowed her brow at him, but did not speak. Daphne nodded, took his arm, and rose from the table.
“I would v
ery much enjoy that, Lord Gildon.” She thanks Lady Vivian for her hospitality, her own gentle eyes meeting the reserved ones of her hostess. She bid her farewell, and together she and Benedict departed from the dining room.
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Mending the Duke's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 31