Page 57 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Instead of answering directly, Carrington filled two brandy glasses and carried them over, resting one before Daniel while taking the other seat. While the Baron sipped his, Daniel made no move to touch his drink.
“Harriet,” Antony lead in while slowly rotating his glass, “can be a bit fickle. One day it's this, and for another, it's that. Her choices are made on impulse, and not soon after, she turns from them.”
“Are you insinuating that she will one day change her mind from me?” Daniel asked, with his brows knotting in the middle.
“For a woman whose emotions are as changeable as the tide, yes,” Antony replied. “She is heavily naïve as well. She thinks we don’t know, but those books she fills her head with are giving her an image of undying love, fantasies, and fairy tales. Are you prepared to play an illusory role no mortal man can fill?”
Daniel took a moment to answer, and when he did, his tone was still, “I knew Harriet was headstrong when I proposed, and to this day, it does not bother me. Not once have I ever gotten the impression that she needs Prince Charming to come and sweep her off her feet.”
“But on the day that it does, and believe itwill,” Antony stressed. “What will you do?”
A knock came on the door and interrupted their discussion. Antony permitted the person to enter and Harriet, clad in a beautiful blue gown, glided in with his cloak over her arm. She looked happy, peaceful, and carefree.
“Thankfully, we made it back in time, and I have not frozen to death,” she said, while handing the coat to Daniel. “But I wouldn’t recommend daring fate a second time.’
Against all the tension he felt, soft humor covered Daniel’s face, as he took the coat, “Prudent decision.”
Turning to Antony, she smiled, “Pardon me for the intrusion. I’ll be on my way.”
As she turned away, Antony grabbed her hand, and she paused mid-step. “Would you check on Martha for me? She felt ill this morning.”
“I surely will,” Harriet said, immediately concerned. “Has she had a nervous flare this morn?”
Antony didn’t release his grip, and it did not sit well with Daniel. “I cannot tell.”
“I’ll go see her,” Harriet promised.
“Thank you,” Antony said. Daniel’s gaze latched on Antony’s hold and his eyes narrowed at the soft circle the Baron was rubbing on the back of her hand before he finally pulled his hand from hers.
Immediately, Daniel reached for his glass and sipped the rich brandy. He did not like how Antony looked at Harriet, and his chest burned with an odd sense to hide Harriet away. The Baron hadn’t looked predatory or seductive—he wouldn’t dare with her husband-to-be right in front of him—but Daniel couldn’t help but feel that something was strange right there.
“Is your wife frequently ill?”
Carrington lifted a shoulder. “On and off. She has a nervous condition that takes her sometimes. But we sourced some tea from the Chinese to calm her.”
Another thing that concerned Daniel was that Antony looked disinterested in his wife’s health. “Shouldn’t you be with her, then?”
“If we were to be with our wives at every time they need us, we would never be anywhere else,” the Baron laughed. “Come on, Barkley, men need to be away at times.”
Settling the glass down, Daniel asked, “This discussion about my intended; are you trying to dissuade me from our marriage?”
“No,” Antony said, but to Daniel, it felt like a resounding yes. “I’m only telling you that she tends to be wild and unpredictable.”
“Harridan or hoyden, doesn’t matter to me, but I’ll keep your advice close to heart,” Daniel said, taking the last phrase on just to keep calm between them. “Which reminds me, I have something to discuss with her. Thank you, Carrington, that brandy was rich, but please excuse me for a moment.”
Carrington lifted in glass high, “My best to you, Barkley.”
* * *
After leaving Antony’s study, she was decidedly troubled by Antony’s disparaging comments to Daniel about her and Martha’s illness. She had listened to him for a long while before forcing a carefree look on her face before she went to see Daniel.
Heading up to her room, she dropped in to explain herself to Lily and then saw Martha. Her sister’s room was dark, with the thick drapes blocking the windows. Though dim, Harriet could see her sister under the covers, and she went to her side. “Martha?” she asked, “Are you all right?”
“Harriet?” Martha sounded weak.
“Yes,” she replied, “are you ill?”
“No, Dear, just tired,” Martha replied, “Antony and I had another disagreement last night, and it drained me a little.”
