“I know,” he answered as the orchestra began the waltz. “But if you hold on to me and I hold on to you, I know we can make it …”
“Because I’m the ‘only woman tall enough and strong enough to manage,’ ” she reminded him, as he took her in his arms and guided her into the first steps of the dance. “You’re lucky I don’t leave you bleeding all over your mother’s marble floors.”
“I know.” His ability to force his body to do his bidding was ebbing at an alarming rate. Daniel inhaled deeply, gathering his remaining strength. “You are the only woman tall enough and strong enough to manage me,” he replied softly. “But I’ve never found you awkward or clumsy. I’ve always found you to be the personification of grace and elegance.”
Miranda’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s because you’re so tall and graceful. You should see me with other partners.”
“I have seen you with other partners,” Daniel reminded her. “And I’ve never seen a more graceful woman.” He gave her a rueful smile as he labored to dance and converse. “But I’d advise you to reserve judgment about my own achievements in that area.”
Miranda felt the trembling in his arms and carried as much of his weight as she could. “Good heavens, Daniel, you weigh a ton.”
He grunted in reply and did his best not to lean so heavily on her. But he was fighting a losing battle, and they were both keenly aware of it.
Miranda could only guess at the effort it took for him to appear to waltz so effortlessly, and she did the only thing she could think to do to keep him upright and moving. “If you stumble and fall or step on my feet, I swear to God, I’ll leave you where you lie and let Her Grace deal with you.”
Squeezing his eyes shut against a wave of dizziness, he faltered.
Miranda felt the slight breeze from the open terrace doors and realized victory was within reach. She moved closer, taking on more of his weight as she whispered, “Hold me tighter.”
“Too … tight … already …” He fought back a wave of nausea as he ground out each word. “Your rep—”
“Hang my reputation! You’re bleeding through your waistcoat and onto my new ball gown. So don’t give up on me now, Daniel. Because when this is over and you’ve recovered, you’re going to accompany me to my dressmaker’s and buy me the most exquisite ball gown anyone has ever seen …”
Daniel barely spared a glance for her pale green dress. “Help me and I’ll buy you a ball gown fit for a queen,” he promised.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” she warned. “This ball gown was fit for a queen.” Miranda realized that Daniel’s face was grayish white, his upper lip dotted with perspiration. Fearing he might pitch face-forward onto the hard marble floor at any second, Miranda wedged her knee between his and nudged him through the terrace door. “The queen and I share a dressmaker.”
The night air helped cool his feverish brow, and Daniel murmured a brief prayer of thanks as he lowered his gaze and found himself staring at the cleavage Miranda had pressed against his chest. The view was spectacular, and he was relieved to discover that, despite the fog of pain surrounding him, he could still appreciate the sight of the truly magnificent bosom pressing into him. “I’ve no doubt your seamstress is thrilled to have your patronage, for I doubt that dressing the queen compares to dressing you.” Or undressing you, he silently added.
“Flattery isn’t going to get you out of this, Daniel,” Miranda advised. “You think I’ll take pity on you and allow you simply to pay the bill because you were foxed and injured when you made the bargain. But no matter what you say or do, when you’re recovered, you’re going to accompany me to my dressmaker’s and buy me the gown of my choosing.”
Daniel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of Miranda’s cleavage as much as the burning pain in his side. “So long as you live up to your end of the bargain and help me out of here.” He would happily accompany her to the most expensive dressmaker on earth so long as she got him away from Sussex House before he fell flat on his face. Daniel opened his eyes and blinked several times before he managed to focus on her lovely face—both her lovely faces.
“Hold on,” she ordered, dropping her hand from his shoulder to his waist, and wrapping her arm around him.
Daniel t
ried to muffle his groan of pain but failed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she tightened her grip, feeling dampness at the back of his jacket as she half-pushed, half-carried him across the terrace.
He stumbled twice and nearly sent them tumbling down the steps that led from the terrace to the garden, but Miranda managed to keep them upright as they made their way along the gravel path through the garden to the street. For once, she was grateful for the fact that she towered over most of her acquaintances. But she was trembling from exhaustion and perspiring through her silk ball gown despite the heavy mist and the cool breeze that blew her skirts against her legs. “I take it back,” she complained. “I take it back, Daniel. You weigh a ton and a half.”
“It’s a good thing you’re no featherweight yourself,” he murmured.
“Insult me again and you’ll be buying me jewels to match my new gown.”
“I didn’t insult you,” he said.
“What do you call it when you tell a lady she’s bigger and heavier than average?” she demanded.
“A compliment.” Daniel sucked in a breath. “The fact that you’re no featherweight is one of the things I like best about you. You give the appearance of being solid and reliable and trustworthy.”
“Instead of beautiful and mysterious and romantic,” Miranda murmured.
“The world is full of beautiful, mysterious, and romantic women,” he said. “Solid, reliable, and trustworthy women are rare.”
“Take it from me, Your Grace,” she informed him. “That is not a compliment.”