Page 30 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Turning to look at the table, Daniel wondered if what he was doing was right. When his mother had fled to Wales, she hadn’t left an address behind, but for four years after that, she had sent him a letter on his birthday. Not inclined to reply, Daniel had not opened them, and soon, in the fifth year, they had stopped, but they served to give him her address.
“I don’t even know if she’s alive,” he muttered into the glass.
“Pardon me, My Lord,” his valet, Mr. Russel, said from the doorway. “But your suit is ready for tonight.”
Abandoning the letter for that night, Daniel went to ready himself for the ball. When he met Harriet that night, he would tell her about his attempts to contact her, and knew that she would understand.
While tying his cravat, Daniel reflected that even after all these years, he still did not know the identity of the man who had despoiled his mother.
What would I have done? Call the man out for a dawn appointment at fourteen? If Father had not done so, what place did I have to do so?
Donning his jacket, Daniel pulled out a drawer and then, a velvet pouch. It held a simple diamond necklace on a thin silver chain and a matching ring. Harriet did not strike him as a woman who went after the most ostentatious things in life, so he hoped that his gift would be received with joy.
He left the house into a flutter of snow, but entered the waiting coach unbothered by the dampness in his hair. On the way to Carrington Manor, he allowed himself to think about Harriet…and the two times he’d kissed her without any forethought.
Daniel felt his chest constrict at the thought that genuine emotions were growing for this woman in a place that had been hollow for so long. Or, perhaps, he was just fooling himself into thinking that.
Maybe I need female company.
But the more Daniel considered going to a brothel, the more his stomach churned with distaste. No courtesan would do, and neither was he going to use Harriet in any way. Settling back in his seat, Daniel resolved only to hold up his end of the bargain—to teach Harriet how to endear herself to men—and find some way to dissuade her from ruining herself.
When he arrived at the Manor, music, and laughter was in the air. He entered the ballroom to an odd scene; where the orchestra was, Harriet played a spirited melody on the pianoforte.
People were milling around with glasses of champagne and were speaking to each other, but what he could see was the golden light from the chandelier illuminating gold tones in her hair, and the rose-gold of her dress. Her head was tilted just so; the smooth curve of her neck had his eyes skimming over her glowing skin.
A passing waiter offered him a glass, and he took it. Retreating to a nook, Daniel watched her silently. Harriet finished the song with a passionate crescendo, and when the applause came, she stood up and curtsied.
Just as he moved toward her, Lord Dawson came to hold her hand and help her off the podium to the floor. He said something to her and Harriet—hell and damnation!—dipped her head with a soft smile, and when she looked back at him, her eyes were half-mast.
Instantly, his stomach soured, and a flame of jealousy burned his chest. Throwing back the rest of his drink, Daniel wrestled with himself…why was he angry with her for using what he had taught her on the very man she had told him she wanted?
Because he’s not worthy of her attention.
Dawson’s smile had changed to a predatory one, and he leaned in a little. Harriet reached over to touch his arm. Dawson’s eyes dipped to it, and he politely pulled away—which Daniel had to, reluctantly, praise him for. Harriet must have realized she had made a mistake and, with her face turning red, said something and then hurried off.
Sighing, Daniel went after her, and when he found her, she was on a balcony huddled behind a potted plant.
“If you stay out here too long, you’ll freeze,” Daniel said.
Harriet stepped out from the poor excuse of camouflage, “You saw?”
“I did,” Daniel replied.
“Dash it all,” Harriet lamented. “I must have looked like a fool.”
“No,” Daniel replied, “you only need to refine your touch. You did well with your head and eyes, but your touch has to be light. A seductive touch will nail a man’s feet to the floor.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and laughed depreciatingly, “And how do you suppose I go about achieving that?”
Daniel looked around, “I cannot teach you that here.”
“Then, where?”
“I think you mean when,” Daniel replied, while his eyes ran over her paling face. “This cannot be done tonight, and please, come inside, before you begin to frost.”
Harriet pouted, but relented and allowed him to escort her back into the warm room, but while crossing under the arch, a dangling strand of mistletoe caught his eye. Harriet did not seem to notice, and he privately thanked her inattention for not having to stop and kiss her.
However, Daniel stopped in the private corridor, and when Harriet turned to him with a confused look on her face, he reached into his inner pocket and took out the pouch.
