Page 60 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Ben shrugged, “If you recall, I tried the same thing. You plowed ahead anyway.”
Dropping the book in disgust, “Why it is so unbelievable that I want to marry the woman I l—” he broke off abruptly.
A dumbstruck look painted Ben’s face white. Both of them had heard the word Daniel had omitted, and it came with shock to both of them. Daniel’s grip on the book was so stiff, his hand began to flutter with pain, and when he peeled his hand away, his fingers were stiff.
“Raster—”
“Don’t,” Daniel snapped, then dropped his tone, “just don’t, please.”
A suffocating silence stretched between them, until Ben asked, “Have you told her?”
“No,” Daniel laughed hollowly, “I’m too chicken hearted to say it. And yes, because I can see you thinking it…it’s because the last time I said it, it certainly did not go over well for me, did it?”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that this time,” Ben said sagely. “Harriet is not one to break her word.”
“Old wounds, Bradford,” Daniel grunted, miserably. “Time hasn’t made much of a mark on them.”
“But if your heart was healed enough for you to nearly utter that word, I think Harriet has,” Ben counseled gently as he stood to leave. “And to me, that is splendid. And I cannot contrive of another perfect situation tonight for you to let her know. It’s a night of mystery and intrigue, Raster; use it to your advantage.”
Resting his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, Ben left with a few quiet words, “I’m happy for you.”
Alone, with his thoughts, Daniel tried to see through his muddled emotions. A year ago, the very idea of loving another again made fury spark in his chest, anger that was soon chased by nausea. As he thought of Harriet, the sensation was warm, and he felt a flicker of light and hope.
Standing, Daniel took the book back to its place before he went to prepare himself for the ball.
* * *
The orchestra played a light tune while Daniel searched for Harriet. The ball had begun nearly half-an-hour ago, and there was no sight of her yet. He slipped around the billowing highwayman's cape, searching diligently for her. It shouldn’t be so hard to find her—unless she was hiding.
He spotted Miss Nottingham, dressed as a Siren, and restrained himself from rolling his eyes. His eyes skimmed over Egyptian queens, Turks, Dominoes and Devils, Roman Gods, and—dear god—was that a bear?
Huffing, he spun and went to get a drink. It was not the wisest idea to be impaired at this juncture, but the anxiety rested on his chest, clamored for nothing more. He needed some distraction, and the colorful and jarring costumes were not enough.
While nursing a second drink, Daniel heard the waltz's strains and didn’t leave the nook until the dance was halfway through. Deciding to go and find Harriet, he went out to see a fluttering maroon Circassianouter-coat and striking auburn hair under a thin white veil, fluttering to the middle of her back—twirling in the arms of a man clad in a menacing pirate costume, Dawson.
A swell of protective-laced anger heated his chest, and while every bone in his body dared him to debase himself by barging in and claiming Harriet, he did not want a scandal—so he waited.
The notes felt drawn out and torturous to him, and he felt on tenterhooks waiting for the damned thing to end. When it did, he breathed out in relief and went toward her. Dawson was speaking, but Daniel was not interested in hearing a word of it.
Clearing his throat, he drew their attention, “Good evening, would you mind, Dawson?”
A flash of ire darkened Dawson’s face but his words were civil, “Not at all, by all means, Barkley.”
Harriet reached up to straighten her hat while Dawson left. Extending his arm, to her, Daniel said, “You look divine.”
“And you, so handsome, regal with the barest touch of danger flittering around your edges,” Harriet stroked his arm. “That silver complements your eyes.”
Leading her away, Daniel dipped his tone and asked, “Do you know of a place we can be alone? Truly alone.”
Her lips pursed, “There is a billiards room that isn’t used much; why?”
“I’ll explain when we get there,” Daniel said. “Please, lead the way.”
As the room was occupied with people flocking to the refreshment table and chatting among themselves, they were able to slip out undetected. The billiards room was on the third floor, with two tables, their green baize lightly coved with dust.
Closing the door, Daniel stripped off his coat and draped it over a chair before lifting the hat off her head. “I’d like it if you did away with your coat as well,” he asked quietly.
Wordlessly, Harriet took off her silver-adorned leather belt and removed the coat as well; clad in her dress, Daniel took her gently on his lap. “Harriet, what I am about to say will not require a reply from you. I need to say it…” slipping a hand under her neck, he slid his thumb under her chin, “I think I love you.”
