Page 78 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
“T'was very lovely,” she replied, “I enjoyed it. I haven't been sledding in a long while and I forgot how wonderful it is. He treated us to hot drinks afterwards.”
“That does sound wonderful,” Martha commented.
Antony rested a hand over the back of the chair, and sipped his wine, “Has Barkley attained the license yet?”
Quirking her lips, Harriet replied, “Sadly, no. Well, I should say,not yet. He's assured that he will have it soon. It's possible that in the next day or so, I'll be Mrs. Raster.”
A vivid joy warmed her heart as the words left her lips. She did feel ecstatic at the thought of marrying Daniel, and her heart leaped at the realization that in a matter of days, she would be.
“I see you're enjoying your evening,” Harriet gave them a fleeting smile. “If you would excuse me, I'll call for supper and retire.”
As she turned, Antony called out, “Do you love him?”
“Antony!” Martha called, aghast, “That's awfully personal!”
Looking over her shoulder, Harriet replied, “I don't mind, Martha, but yes, My Lord, I do love him. With all my heart. I don't think I'd ever marry another.”
“Well, I'm happy for you, Dear,” Martha called before Antony could say anything. “Good night, Harriet, and we’re overjoyed for you.”
As she left, Harriet saw a sneer flicker across Antony's face, and wondered why, but didn't ponder on it too much. Her love for Daniel was occupying her thoughts and it carried with her during her meal and her bath.
In bed, she nearly reached for Anon Ashworth’s novel but she slipped out of bed and went to her escritoire instead. There she took out the empty journal Lily had given her.
Perhaps it was time to pen her own story. Now though, she had inspiration by the bucketfuls to pen it; however, Harriet decided to write out her journey from wanting to seduce a Lord to falling in love with Daniel.
I should have known that my wicked pastime of reading those erotic books would land me in trouble. At the beginning, I was seeking such trouble in the form of Lord Dawson. A reported rakehell.
I wrote a letter to my dearest friend Lily, describing with intricate detail the acts I'd like to perform with him, and what I'd like to receive from him.
That scandalous letter, meant for Lily's eyes only, ended up in Lord Barkley's hands. He made me a deal, to do the acts with him instead. Every frightfully, wicked, shameless, scandalous desire I had…and I accepted.
She wrote until the hour grew late, her hand grew tired and her eyes drooped heavily.
Sitting away, Harriet eyed her writings. She had turned the hero of the tale into a very unsavory, wicked man with a tortured past.
“Forgive me for turning you into a rogue, Daniel. I know you're the farthest thing from insidious,” she apologized.
Closing the book, Harriet slipped under the sheets, imagining for a moment, what it would be like to have Daniel beside her.
“Only a few more days to wonder…” she murmured sleepily, “just a few more days. Then I'll be the happiest woman in England.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The quaint, bustling community of Doctors' Common in London had not changed a whit. The collection of lawyers’ offices, just off Knightrider Street was familiar to him because it was where Ben worked. However, Daniel wasn't heading to Benjamin's office, he was off to the Court of Arches to inquire about his marriage petition
After crossing the shady, snow-covered court yard, paved with stone, in the quiet morning, hemmed in by a line of drab gray buildings, Daniel arrived at the courthouse. As he passed down a corridor, Daniel could hear the wild hollering and ruckus from the Prerogative Court, but he hurried to the Court of Arches.
Hopefully, he would find a proctor or a clerk, or best of all, a visiting Cardinal. And just as he thought it, an officer of the court in his black gown and gloves, was hurrying crossing the floor. After calling out, to him, the man turned.
“Good morning, My Lord, court is not in session today. If you could come back—”
“I'm not here for a trial,” Daniel said strictly. “I'm here to inquire about a document. My name is Daniel Raster, Earl of Barkley. I sent in a petition for a special license and was told it would be ready in a few days, but it's almost a week now. It's a matter of urgency. Has it been granted yet?”
The man plucked out a handkerchief to dab at his forehead. “I'll have to check, My Lord. I'm not sure how long it would take. Perhaps if you'd leave an address, I'll send it over?”
“Thank you, but I'll wait,” Daniel replied and nodded as the man hurried away. Hopefully, his visit would not be in vain.
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