Daniel suddenly recalled the look on Miranda’s face when she’d told him, “that would mean announcing our nuptials in all the papers on the morrow.” Recalled the way she’d looked when she’d read the expression on his face and confirmed it. “I didn’t think so.”
There was a way. A way that offered them the protection they would need if anyone learned his secret.
No matter that it wasn’t his first choice—it was the best one. For Miranda deserved all the protection he could give her.
His friends and the work of the league deserved all the protection he could give them.
“Bloody hell!” His whisky-soaked brain latched onto the idea and refused to let go. He could give Miranda what she wanted and protect himself at the same time.
&
nbsp; “Daniel, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” he said. “But it’s going to be all right.” He gave Miranda a drunken smile. “Everything is going to be all right.”
She did her best to return his smile and almost succeeded. “Are you certain?”
Daniel didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded his head instead.
“Have you decided where you want to go?”
“Number Four St. Michael’s Square.”
“Number Four?” Miranda frowned. “That’s …”
Daniel nodded. “St. Michael’s Palace.” He had been christened at St. Michael’s Church, which stood beside the palace. It was the church to which he belonged and the church to which the dukes of Sussex had been patrons for as long as anyone could remember.
Miranda reached out and placed her hand on his forehead. “You’re feverish. You need a doctor. I think I should take you to hospital.”
Daniel opened his eyes. “No hospital. No doctor. Just the Bishop Manwaring and you.”
Miranda’s mouth formed a perfect “O” of surprise. “You’re foxed, Daniel. Very foxed. You don’t know what you’re saying or what you’re doing.”
“I am foxed,” Daniel agreed. “Very foxed. But I know what I’m saying and I know what I’m doing.”
Miranda shivered involuntarily, and her voice quavered when she whispered, “Please, Daniel, don’t.” She bit her bottom lip and looked down at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. “Don’t make things worse than they already are.”
“Worse?” He winced. “How can making things right make anything worse?”
“I became an object of pity and the ton’s perpetual bridesmaid when you ended our last courtship so abruptly. If word of this got out, it would be far worse. And it isn’t something you can take back, so please, don’t say it unless you mean it.”
“Marry me,” he said. “Now.”
Miranda shook her head. “You won’t remember this in the sober light of morning,” she warned.
“I’ll remember.”
“If you do,” she predicted, “it will be with regret.”
Daniel looked her in the eye. “I promise I’ll have no regrets unless I read about it in tomorrow’s papers,” he told her. “I want you to marry me.”
“Tonight?”
He nodded. “And it must remain a secret for a while.”
“How long?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered.