Page 96 of A Naughty Proposal for His Winter Countess
Harriet told Ben about the encounter with Antony, how he had tried to persuade her into an affair, and how, her quick thinking had allowed her to run straight to London. Regrettably, she told Ben what Antony thought of Martha, and how he had wanted Harriet as his mistress.
“I will kill him,” Ben vowed. “When I get my hands on him, he’s a dead man.”
“Ben, don’t!” Harriet stopped him. “We’ll find another way to deal with him.”
A brisk knock came moments before Martha, Emma and Aunt Barbara walked in. Martha’s eyes landed on her and she let out a gasp of relief. “Harriet, you’re here!”
“Martha,” she stood, “how did you—”
“We suspected you would run here,” Martha said. “But why, Harriet?”
Harriet introduced Daniel’s mother before she called for more tea and instead of her telling the tale, Ben told her sister about Antony’s deceit. Martha looked stricken through and was pale as a sheet at the end of Ben’s recount.
Emma held fast onto her sister’s hand while Martha grappled with the reality of who her husband was. Aunt Barbara looked devastated as well and was trembling so much she could barely hold her tea.
“I never thought he would be so devious,” she uttered.
A maid appeared at the door, “Pardon me, but the constables have come to ask you a question.”
“Allow them in,” Harriet permitted.
When the constables came they bowed, “Our apologizes for the intrusion, but while our men are searching for Lord Carrington and Dawson, we have to ask, do you recognize the handwriting of the threatening letters he had received?”
Harriet cringed, when she realized that she had left that part out, but decided to explain herself as soon as the men were gone. Taking the letters, she ran over the slashing words. “I don’t think so.”
“Let me see them?” Martha asked.
And when Harriet handed them to her, she nearly dropped them I horror, “This is Antony’s hand!” she exclaimed, then after reading a few turned sickly gaunt, “My husband’s been threatening you all this time!”
“And he told me it was Dawson!” Harriet exclaimed.
“Lady Carrington,” a constable asked, “do you know where your husband might have taken Lord Barkley? Any old houses, properties you know of that are out of the way? Perhaps a place people would not look twice at?”
Martha pursed her lips, “He had an old apartment in Mayfair, but I don’t think he would carry Lord Barkley there…oh, he used to have an old warehouse on Wapping. I believe it was his fathers.”
“On the river is a good place to hold an abducted person,” the constable said. “We’ll go there now.”
Harriet grabbed her coat from the rack, “We’re coming with you!”
Daniel. Don’t die or I’ll never forgive you.
Chapter Thirty-One
The final pop of the last thread of rope had Daniel nearly shouting in joy but he kept his mouth closed. He heard footsteps coming so he kept his hands behind him as if he were still bound.
When Carrington came with a bag in his hand, Daniel glared. Snorting, Carrington crouched and took the items out, a knife, an ax and a pistol. “So, I thought of a fun game we could try. Which of these would you prefer your mode of execution to be?”
“How about…none of them!” Daniel said before he lunged at the man and the two went down in tumble.
His arms were weak and tired, but Daniel punched as best as he could, his blows fueled by righteous justice for Harriet. His grip fell short and Carrington broke free, delivering hard blows that winded Daniel. Carrington pressed his arm into Daniel’s neck
“I can’t wait till I slit your throat,” he snarled.
Bucking, Daniel threw Carrington off him and wrestled him to the ground. “I will not let you win.”
With an almighty push, Carrington dislodge him and scrambled to his feet. He lunged for the pistol, but Daniel kicked it away, then stomped on the knife, shattering it in splinters. Carrington leveled his fist and boxed Daniel in his ear, but a quick dodge allowed Daniel to escape the blow.
Staying light on his feet, he dodged the swings. As with fencing, he feigned left and moved right, landing a series of swift blows to Antony’s gut, and delivering a blistering left hook, for a final blow.
