Page 18 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
“No,” Daniel cut short whatever Ben was about to say, then tempered his tone, “Notthat. What is that you want to speak about?”
“Martha said that she wanted to hold off on announcing the engagement,” Ben said. “Do you agree with that?”
Shrugging a little, Daniel said, “I’m not particularly bothered. She must know why she is hesitant to make the announcement. And besides, announcements do not change anything except for dragging out the naysayers and detractors from the woodwork. If it weren’t for etiquette, I wouldn’t mind keeping it secret.”
A tight look crossed Ben’s face, and Daniel knew what was running through his friend’s mind, even though he didn’t speak it. Ben remembered the day he had announced his engagement to Miss Temperance Williams, a woman he had told himself he was in love with.
At six-and-twenty, he’d believe gentle-born Temperance, with her wide innocent eyes and kind heart, would be the perfect wife. Never would he have expected that a deceitful succubus lay beneath her innocent looks.
“Based on what you’ve been through, I’m not surprised to hear that,” Ben admitted. “I am happy that you’re taking it with grace.”
Nodding tightly, Daniel went back to the room, “So, what are you doing this season? Any future Missus Bradford in the making?”
“God, no,” Ben huffed out a laugh. “I work eighteen-hours a day and get less than four hours of sleep. All slots are filled in, until further notice. Doesn’t stop Martha from needling me to find a lady, though.”
“You should,” Daniel replied as his eyes landed on Harriet dancing with her brother-in-law, Lord Carrington. The Baron looked happy, with a kind expression while they danced. They were speaking as well, and Daniel wondered what the topic of discussion was.
He didn’t have to wonder too long at the Baron’s gaze met his before giving him a slight nod.
Blazes, just when I wanted to avoid gossip. He’s probably telling her all my secrets.
Tempted to go back to get another drink, Daniel held off on the lure and went to find another dance partner—if the whole room hadn’t been poisoned against him, that is.
* * *
Midnight came with the party moving to the dining room, but Daniel found himself on a balcony, one boot wedged between two of the balusters, and gazing out into the night sky.
The rustle of skirts dragged his attention away from the night’s sky, and he turned to see Harriet lingering at the doorway.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, turning back to the barren vista.
“Neither should you; nevertheless, here we are,” Harriet replied while coming closer. “Why aren’t you at dinner?”
“I needed some air,” Daniel replied.
“If the ball was a crush, I could understand,” Harriet replied. “But there were less than fifty people there, half of them in the card room and the others just watching. Would you please tell me why you’re not with us?”
Rubbing his face, Daniel replied, “I just felt it hard to be around people who were gossiping about me. I’m sure even your brother-in-law did it too, to you.”
“No, he didn’t,” Harriet came to stand by him, and looked out into the darkness as well. “He didn’t because I told him not to.”
Shock and tendrils of awe snaked through Daniel at her revelation. Pivoting at the hip, he saw her small smile. “You did that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Harriet canted her head the side, letting her hair cascade over her shoulder, “You asked me to not listen to the rumors, didn’t you? Lord Carrington was only telling me how happy he was for me. He mentioned that you’re a good man.”
I doubt that’s all he said.
Harriet came so close that their arms brushed, “Besides, I’d rather hear it from you, why you don’t trust people.”
Turning away from her, Daniel’s skepticism was profound, “And you don’t?”
“I tend to believe in the goodness of people,” Harriet replied, “despite the many instances that have pressured me to think otherwise.”
“And what are those?”
“When I was eight, my Father decided to add the occupation of a missionary to his calling of being a clergyman,” Harriet began. “Aunt Barbara came to us in those times while Martha and Emma took up the motherly role in the house. I was sent to a girl’s school not too far from the hamlet we lived in, to board there. I was young, my hair could be mistaken for a bonfire, and my freckles stood out on my skin like fireflies in the night.
“I was tormented day and night by other girls, for my hair, my face, my thin body, and my tomboy tendencies,” Harriet said with a nostalgic smile. “At that age, I preferred breeches to skirts, playing with wooden swords to needlepoint, and climbing trees to playing with dolls. The girls there made fun of me, and tempted me to think I’d be a spectacle of horror for the rest of my life.”
