Page 24 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Daniel prayed for strength not to march over there and rip the man away from Harriet. He was not deserving of her—but then, the traitorous thought that she wanted him, slithered through his mind. Moreover, wasn’t that the very thing he had agreed to help her with—seducing the man?
Unable…or rather, unwilling…to make the correlation, Daniel found himself at the refreshment table and downed half a glass of punch.
“If you glare at the wall, it might spontaneously combust,” Ben said, as he joined him at the table. “Please don’t, my sister will blame me, and then I’ll have to pay what I can’t afford.”
Releasing the iron in his spine, Daniel nodded to Ben, “You’re just in time,” he jested dryly. “I thought I saw a hint of smoke coming from it. And you know what they say, where there is smoke—”
“There is fire,” Ben said. “But what I cannot fathom is what is making you so angry.”
“I’m not angry,” Daniel lied, “I’m just nervous. Tonight, is when I plan to tell Harriet abouther…well some of it anyway. And it claws me up inside just thinking about it all.”
“My sympathies,” Ben said sincerely. “If you’d like, I can have a room for you two to speak in.”
“I’d like that, thank you,” Daniel replied while reaching drinking the rest of his punch. “Now, let me see if I can lure my intended away from the dance floor.”
The waltz had ended, but Harriet and Dawson were still on the floor, speaking with each other. Daniel cleared his throat and interrupted, “May I cut in?”
Dawson flicked a look to him, then back to Harriet, “Of course, Barkley. Thank you for the lovely dance, Miss Bradford.”
Then the ostentatious bastard kissed Harriet’s hand, and winked, “Another dance later on, perhaps?”
Laughing softly, Harriet shook her head, “We’ll see, My Lord.”
Reining in his urge to shove the man away, Daniel extended his arm, and she took it. “When did he ask you to dance?”
“Aunt Barbara told me he had asked for the first dance, but two were before him,” Harriet said, slanting a look at him. “Is it important?”
“I…” Daniel paused, “just don’t like him around you. And yes, I know you have your sights on him, but could you not be close with him while we are, technically, engaged.”
“Do you have a grudge against him?” Harriet asked.
“No,” Daniel said, while looking for Ben. “I’ll explain when we have some privacy. Where the deuce is Ben?”
As if summoned, Ben came to him and said, “Martha is giving you the drawing room to speak.” He then said, “Try to exorcise your demons now before they grow worse.”
Taking Harriet’s hand, Daniel said, “Please, lead the way.”
Wordlessly, she guided Daniel to the room and found that the fireplace was already lit and blazing. Daniel closed the door and rubbed his face. He went to the couch where Harriet sat, primly.
Her innocent questioning face had Daniel steeling himself. “I need to tell you something, because it is inevitable that you’ll hear it from others and you’ll get a skewed impression,” he said. “It about my past.”
Harriet’s lips pursed, “I understand; what is it?”
“Two-years-and-three-months ago, I was engaged to a woman, Miss Temperance Williams, she was the daughter of a Baronet, and a tradesman. I was besotted when I first saw her, and it grew, the more we met. Her family agreed to the match, and we were on the path to a full life and a happy marriage…” he took a breath, “until she ran away the day of our wedding, with my coachman, leaving me at the altar.”
Harriet’s hand was at her mouth in horror. “My God.”
Unable to look at her, Daniel stood and began to pace, “Never could I have suspected she would be so deceitful and cunning. She had all the innocence and virtue of driven snow. How could she—”
A warm hand rested on his arm, and Daniel turned to see Harriet. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is that why you underlined that entity in the book? You thought she was an evil temptress.”
“Back then, when I was mired in confusion and grief, I looked to anything I could find to explain what happened,” Daniel replied bitterly.
“Mayhap, it had something to do with the name. My tormenter in school was named Temperance, as well. Temperance Nottingham,” Harriet tried to jest, but it felt flat on Daniel.
He drifted back to the couch, with an empty hole eating away at his chest. He sat, and Harriet joined him. She simply took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder, not giving him any bland platitudes that Daniel knew wouldn’t have made a mark on him anyway.
“I’m sorry,” Harriet said. “You didn’t deserve that.”
