Page 15 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Daniel nodded and stood, “Please, give your sister my regards. Miss Bradford, I’ll see you this evening.”
Standing, Harriet curtsied, “Safe travels, My Lord.”
While Ben showed him out, Harriet went back to her tea. It didn’t bother her too much that Daniel was reluctant to speak of his past, though she was sure that Ben probably knew all of what had happened. She wanted to hear it from him, and there would be time for her to do it that evening.
When her brother came back and sat, he asked, “Does it not bother you how reluctant Raster is in speaking with you?”
Placing the cup down on a saucer, Harriet turned it a little. “No, it doesn’t. I’m not blind, Ben. I know that he’s been hurt by a woman, that much he’s admitted, but I would like to follow his wishes and only ask him what happened. When he is ready, he will tell me.”
“That’s very mature of you,” Ben said, “which surprises me because you don’t do anything by halves. I’d have bet good money—and won—that you’d have poked and prodded an answer from anyone.”
Reaching for a watercress sandwich, Harriet said, “You know what happened.”
“I do.”
“And others do as well,” Harriet asked, rhetorically.
Ben inclined his head, “If you ask around in the right circles, yes.”
“Then, that’s all I need to know,” Harriet replied. “As I said before, he’ll tell when he’s ready.” Standing, Harriet went to her brother and kissed his cheek, “If you need me, I’ll be in my room.”
Walking away, Harriet paused at a window, and tugged the drapes to the side as she watched the Earl’s coach trundling away.
When you tell me what happened with that lady, I’ll tell you that I’d rather be an object of desire than one of scorn. I’ll not be a wallflower for the rest of my life.
Dropping the drape, she went to her room to prepare for that evening.
* * *
The music from the ballroom filtered through Martha’s private drawing room walls, where Harriet, her two sisters, and her aunt were seated.
“I…” Martha paused, while wringing her hands nervously and looking at her sister and Aunt Barbara, “are you sure about this marriage, Harriet? I think you’re a little…naïf.”
“Nonsense,” Aunt Barbara tutted while tapping her turban in place. “She’s as mature as you were when you were that age, Martha. And dare I say, Harriet might be even a little more developed.”
Emma, their eldest sister, reached out and laid a hand on Martha’s. “I know you’re worried, Martha, but you can’t hobble Harriet by doubting her now. She is old enough to decide on the path she wants her life to take.”
“But I know nothing about this Earl,” Martha stressed.
“Ben does,” Harriet interjected. “They are best friends, and if he can vow for Lord Barkley, who can disagree?”
“She’s right, Martha,” Emma, said, plucking her spectacles off her face to wipe them clean. “Benjamin is good at judging a person’s character.”
Martha was still unconvinced, and questioned Harriet, “Harriet, how are you about this? Do you even know the Earl?”
“That’s what courtship is for, Dear,” Aunt Barbara laughed. “At least that is what it was in my day. Has it changed?”
“No, Aunt, it hasn’t,” Emma replied. “Martha, your heart is in the right place, but you’re worried for nothing. Please, have some faith in Harriet.”
Finally, Martha nodded as she stood and smoothed her emerald dress, “I’ll try, but I would like to meet this Earl. And I’d like to wait to announce the engagement, only for a few days. Please, humor me.”
Though discontented with Martha’s request, Harriet realized that she had come out well in the scope of things—her family was mostly accepting of the match, and waiting a few days to announce it was not a hardship.
Emma took part to help Aunt Barbara down the steps while Harriet and Martha followed. They came to the ballroom grandly done in swathes of white and silver decorations to match the snowy outside.
Her eyes landed on Ben, who was standing at the base of the stairs and speaking to Daniel. The Earl’s dark suit stood out from the rest; it was all black. Stunned by his appearance, Harriet began to wonder if that appearance was working against his favor while walking.
Martha asked, “Harriet?”
