Page 16 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
And then, nearly at the third step before the floor, Harriet twisted to see her sister…and tripped.
Chapter Five
Asharp gasp and a flicker of peach and dark-red hair had Daniel shoving his glass of champagne to Ben and rushing to grab Harriet before she fell flat on her face.
Her heaving breast on his chest spurred an emotion that Daniel had not felt in a while—as it evoked images of another act. Harriet’s eyes were clenched tight, and her fingers were gripping his shoulder tightly—breeding another memory that Daniel had to suppress.
“Harriet!” Martha called out in shock.
“Easy, Miss Bradford,” he said, while gently setting her on her feet, “you’re fine.”
The hairs prickling on the back of his neck told him that they had drawn an audience, but he didn’t care. “Open your eyes,” he said, noting with stark appreciation how long and dark her lashes were, resting on her cheek.
When she did, he stepped away, knowing that his act of gallantry would be taken as something else if he touched her anymore.
“Are you all right?” he asked with two feet of space between them.
Martha grabbed Harriet’s hand, “Oh, My Dear. You gave me such a fright. Did you twist your ankle?”
“No,” Harriet said while fishing out her fan and aiming a weak smile at Daniel, “thanks to you, My Lord.”
Still flustered, Harriet introduced her sister to the Earl, who then bowed.
“Pleased to meet you, Lady Carrington,” Daniel bowed, his dulcet tones, once again evoking a warmness building under Harriet’s skin. “You have a wonderful home.”
“Thank you,” Martha replied. “I’m told you and Ben are friends from Cambridge?”
“We are,” Daniel replied, “except Ben’s zeal for the law outdid mine. I studied it only to take care of my Earldom and to know how to help in the legal matters of the orphanage, and schools passed on to me and those I privately sponsor.”
“A degree that I will be using against you for ruining my suit,” Ben quipped.
Harriet, a bit stunned that Daniel was so charitable, began to see him with clearer eyes.
“That is admirable, My Lord,” Martha said, clasping her gloved hands, “My husband and I sponsor the orphanage in my home town as well. We grew up in a tiny village, you see, and we weren’t well off. When I married, I vowed to help out in any way I could.”
“I wasn’t aware,” Daniel replied, his eye lighting on Harriet. “Miss Bradford and I have not gotten to that stage in our histories yet.”
Martha must have found what she was looking for in Daniel, as she nodded and stepped away with a satisfied smile. “I see, please, enjoy the ball. You as well, Harriet. Ben, a moment.”
After Martha took their brother off, Harriet took Ben’s reluctantly vacated place, and closed her fan. “You’re looking well, My Lord.”
Daniel’s eyes took a sweep over her, from the carefully coiffed mounds of ringlets in her hair to the pale peach of her dress. “That is a lovely color on you,” he murmured.
With her cheeks warming, Harriet was tempted to flick her fan out again, but stopped herself from doing so. “Thank you.”
The Earl’s eyes narrowed in quiet contemplation, “I think I see why you wouldn’t get far with men like Dawson. You don’t know how to take a compliment, and evoke more.”
“What do you mean?” Harriet returned, confusedly. “I just said, thank you.”
After looking around and seeing the eyes on them, Daniel knew he had to speak to her in private. “Follow me to the refreshment table,” Daniel said as he held out his arm.
Taking it, still with a look of befuddlement, Harriet walked with him to the nook where the table of water and punch rested. Pouring a glass of water for her, Daniel spoke.
“Men like Dawson are like lions seeking out the weakest of the herd. They do not take to strong-willed women, as their—” a thought came to Daniel about a few men he knew who prided themselves of conquering the most-resistant women, and had to amend his statement.
“Mostmen like him, as they’re a subject few who are different, feel their pride is wounded by a woman who doesn’t submit easily to their charms,” Daniel said. “There are some women who are masters at hiding their strong personality with ones that cater to their whims. You will have to master that art.”
Harriet’s shoulders slumped, as the image of her being with Lord Dawson began to flitter away from her. “I don’t know how to do such; submission was never a part of my nature.”
