A beautiful blonde wearing powder-blue silk drifted past them, flashing Daniel a perfect smile.
“See,” Ben gestured, “you have nothing to worry about, so, please, enjoy yourself.”
Holding his misgivings, Daniel meandered through the crowd, greeting some lords he knew and meeting others, but as the moments passed by, the hairs on the back of his head, kept lifting.
As he moved, Daniel politely ignored the surreptitious glances, the whispers behind fans, and how mamas discreetly shifted their daughters out of his way. Disgusted, Daniel was about to find the hosts, give them his respects, and then make a discreet exit, when the flash of auburn hair caught his eyes.
Ben’s sister looked frustrated, and when Daniel followed her gaze, his eyes landed on a tall blond man, Lord Dawson. A man Daniel had seen in multiple brothels with women, and who was known to have illegitimate children with women who were all paid off to keep their silence.
Looking back at her, he wondered why her lips were pinched and her complexion a little sallow. Looking back at Dawson, Daniel tilted his head when a lady rested her hand on his arm, stroking up his forearm so subtlety.
Her head was canted just so that the subtle arch of her neck was presented to him, her eyelids were lowered, and her lips sported a coy smile. Daniel knew enough to know that the seduction game was on—and it was not only the lady.
Lord Dawson rested his hand on hers, stepping close to whisper something in her ear. Daniel turned back to see the tails of Miss Bradford’s gown as she slipped away to the balcony. It took him a moment to know what fueled her escape.
Abandoning his plan to leave, Daniel followed the lady and found her on the balcony, staring out onto the snow-covered lawns.
“Pardon me, for saying this,” he said, “you’re better off without him.”
Harriet turned, and their eyes met—for a long, pronounced breathless moment. She turned away, and quietly said, “I do not know what you mean, My Lord.”
Taking the chance, Daniel approached her, “Your life in the ton is about to begin—you do not need to drag the ghosts of his scandals with you.”
She turned those evocative blue eyes on him, “He has no scandals.”
“Yes, he does,” Daniel said. “Believe me, Miss Bradford, I know.”
Miss Bradford uttered something he would not have believed she had noticed. “I don’t see anyone whispering about him…unlike you, Lord—?”
“Daniel Raster,” he replied, “Earl of Barkley.”
Her eyes flickered over his shoulder, “Is there a reason people have your name on their lips?”
“There is,” Daniel said as took another step forward, entranced by her directness. “But that is not the matter here. Take my advice, Miss, you do not need to get entangled with a man of that sort.”
Her bosom rose with defiance under the simple dress that had clung to her curves with an undeniable sensuality. “I do not believe you.”
Daniel’s brows lowered, “Miss Bradford, I am not the paragon of innocence, but believe me when I tell you, that this man is not someone a country Miss like you needs in their life.”
“Do you have proof of his indiscretions, My Lord?”
Even as Daniel recognized the disturbing attraction between them, he felt even more disturbed by her stubbornness. The way she tilted her head up, and the flash of boldness in her eyes, mixed what he saw as unfounded love for a man who did not know what love was, or who valued women less than a sexual object, had his skin itching.
Her mulishness was oddly sensual, and Daniel felt his blood stirring. Knowing that there was nothing he could do, Daniel stepped away and lifted his hands. “I hope you’ll find out who he is before anything dire happens.”
Miss Bradford reached into her reticule for a fan, “Excuse me, My Lord.”
As she moved off, something fluttered to the ground after her. As he bent to pick it up, Daniel found a folded letter. Before he could call to her, Miss Bradford was gone.
Though he knew it was wrong to read correspondence that was not his, Daniel unfolded the letter and a few sentences in, wondered if Miss Bradford had written such scandalous words.
The penmanship was impeccable, but the subject matter…utterly sinful. The detailed description of how the lady wanted to be touched and kissedthere—how she wanted to use chocolate, champagne, and red silk on her body had to have come from a novel.
The description of how she longed for unending nights of passion bound to a headboard while be taken by Lord Dawson had Daniel utterly scandalized…and wickedly aroused. The image her words gave him, had his blood heating and thrumming through his veins more than any visit to a brothel could have ever brought him.
Looking up, at the room beyond him, Daniel knew one thing was for certain; she was not going to give up on Dawson—and he had to stop her, even if he had to resort to drastic measures.
Chapter Two
