Page 89 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Her sister must have realized the detached state Harriet was in and changed the conversation, “Harriet, have you eaten today?”
“No,” she replied, ready to have this conversation over so she could go back to sleep.
“I’ll send something up for you,” Martha said. “You should eat something, Harriet.”
Tugging the sheets over her, Harriet replied, “I’m not hungry.”
Undeterred, Martha still sent up the tray of food that Harriet couldn’t find it in herself to eat. She knew her sister only wanted the best for her, but Harriet only felt despondency and dejection. It was as if all the life inside her had been drained away.
Going back to sleep, Harriet just wished they would understand that and leave her alone.
* * *
The next day, while curled up in her window seat, Harriet stared listlessly out onto the snow-covered lawn—it was a barren and bare as her life. An hour ago, Martha had left to go to town, to a physician to deal with barren women, her sister had told her.
With her knees to her chin, Harriet wished that Daniel’s coach would appear as a knight rescuing a captive princess. A knock rapped gently on the door before Antony came in bearing a cup of tea. Harriet spared him a glance before going back to the window.
“I heard you aren’t eating,” he said, resting the cup on the sill. “But while Martha doesn’t understand heartbreak, I do.”
Eyeing him, Harriet asked, “How so?”
“Before I met Martha I was in love with a woman, and she left me for another,” Antony shrugged. “It’s not the same situation you find yourself in, but the pain from a broken heart is a universal language.”
Touched that Antony had come to see her, Harriet reached for the cup. “I wish people would understand and not see me as the harlot they undeniably think I am.”
“Even so,” Antony said. “Fallen women have all the chances in the world to rise.” He gave a smile and reached to brush her hair from her face, “You’re a beautiful woman, Harriet. If he isn’t the one for you, someone else will be.”
The inviting look Antony gave her was a bit odd, but Harriet didn’t think through it much.
“Remember that you have much more to offer someone else,” he added suggestively.
“I’ll try,” Harriet replied.
“And don’t worry, I’m trying my best to find Dawson and have him answer for his actions,” Antony promised.
When Antony left, Harriet tried to think who could be better for her than Daniel but came up short. Despite knowing that she had little experience with men, Harriet couldn’t think of who could be better than Daniel.
“No one,” she whispered. “No one is better for me than he is.”
The depression grew deeper as the days passed as she kept to herself. Martha checked on her every morning, to make sure she ate, but was gone for most of the days to the physician. Antony would visit her in the afternoons, with a cup of tea or a plate of buttered toast.
This time, on his fourth visit, he came with crumpets, preserves and honey.
“Thank you,” Harriet said taking the plate. “How’s Martha doing?”
He sighed beleaguered. “She is always tired from the travel and the treatment the physician is giving her. When she comes home, she goes straight to bed.”
“Sorry,” Harriet replied sadly. “Are you still having disagreements?”
“No,” Antony shrugged, “She’s gone for most of the day, and when she is here, she’s become a little aloof.”
Blinking, Harriet pressed her lips tight, “That doesn’t sound like Martha. Mayhap she is just weary.”
“Perhaps,” Antony replied, resting a hand on her knee, “but I think she’s avoiding me until these treatments are done.”
His hand on her knee was unusual, so Harriet gently removed it. “Avoiding you how?”
“Marital congress,” Antony looked at her squarely. “Men are as sensual creatures as women, and I think Martha forgets it at times. We used to do so much, Harriet. During out courtship I’d sweep her off her feet and into my arms. We would take ride into the country, be playful with each other, and she never shied away when I showed her my passion, but now—” he trailed off and shrugged.
