Page 14 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
“Why do you think there is a problem?”
“I can see it on your face, Ben,” Harriet said. “I know it's something new, and you’ve proven that you don’t like breaking conventions.”
Ben’s lips twitched, “No, I don’t, but Raster here thinks of himself as a forward thinker. Since you must agree to it before I approve, do you consent to this, Harriet?”
Looking back at Daniel, Harriet softly replied, “Yes, of course.”
Ben produced a quill and inkpot from his bag at his side that she had not noticed, then wrote his signature consenting to the match. He then turned the papers to her and offered her the quill. Silently, Harriet added her name.
“Well, that’s done,” Ben said, standing, “I’ll see if the cooks can send up something hardier than tea and brandy.”
He left them with a pointed look, and as he exited the room, Daniel came to sit in his seat. While she sipped her tea, his eyes never moved from her face.
“You don’t wear cosmetics,” he said bluntly. “I never realized.”
Putting the cup down, Harriet replied, “It wasn’t advised. My hair was already bright red, and my freckles vivid like fire, so rouging my lips or my cheeks would have made me look a fright. I tried it once, and I was proven right. Over time, I grew comfortable with how I looked without them,” her head tilted to the side. “Why? Are you accustomed to women wearing pigments?”
A faint, almost shadowed smile crossed his face, “Yes.”
Holding his eyes, Harriet allowed the moment to stretch on, “Are you a man of few words, My Lord? Because I seem to recall you using a lot more to dissuade me from a certain someone.”
“I felt alarmed that you were putting yourself in danger of ruination,” Daniel replied. “A fallen woman is not looked on kindly by our society.”
“Only if you get caught,” Harriet said, retaking her cup of tea.
Daniel leaned forward and pinned her with his brown eyes. “Why are you set on becoming a pariah?”
Before she could reply, Benjamin came in with two maids behind him bearing trays. Daniel's eyes narrowed a little, as if to say,‘We’re not done with the conversation’.
“So,” Ben began, “what are we discussing?”
“My childhood,” Harriet replied quickly, “and Father’s choice to be a clergyman instead of a businessman. Which was why—”
“I thought you’d gotten over that,” Ben said tiredly.
The puzzled look on Daniel’s face had Ben explaining, “When we were younger, Father overlooked Harriet wearing one of my old breeches, but Harriet took it as permission.”
“He never outrightly forbade it.”
“Until you took it as a habit and fouled up at school wearing them there,” Ben concluded.
“You were a tomboy,” Daniel said.
Ben snorted, “More like a hoyden. Horse racing, sword fighting, archery, an unusual obsession with military politics, and ancient Roman history.”
Refilling her cup, Harriet —rather nervously—asked, “Is that troubling to you?”
Surprisingly, Daniel shook his head, “No. I’d prefer that then have you only knowing needlepoint.”
Blushing, Harriet put away the cup and reached for some fruit, before she said, “Er, I have not mastered that skill. I can play the pianoforte, but sewing and painting are skills I lack.”
Daniel shrugged, “Still, doesn’t inconvenience me. There are servants for mending clothes.”
“For curiosity sake, what traits would bother you?” Harriet asked, watching closely. She suspected that he would shut off at the probing question; as the words left her mouth, she was proven right…Daniel’s face went blank as a sheet of paper.
“If you don’t mind,” he said, “I’d rather not speak of that now. Ben, you mentioned something about the ball your sister is having?”
“Yes,” Ben replied, dusting crumbs of flaky bread from his fingers, “Twelve Balls coinciding with the days of Christmastide. And now, since you are engaged to my sister, you are required to attend. The engagement will probably be announced tonight as well.”
