Miranda stood up as Crawford announced him. The sight of Daniel in his buff breeches, lawn shirt, brocade waistcoat, dark blue coat, and tall boots nearly took her breath away.
“Good afternoon, Miranda.”
The sound of his deep voice sent shivers up and down her spine. “Good afternoon, Daniel.”
“You look beautiful,” he said suddenly.
Miranda blushed. “Thank you.” She reached up and touched the corner of her eye in a self-conscious gesture that drew attention to the area she’d been desperately trying to hide. “So do you.”
Her compliment took him by surprise. “With you in your green plumage and me in my dark blue, we must resemble a proud peacock and his mate.”
“I hope not.” Miranda giggled. “For peahens are rather drab little birds.”
“Not to the peacock,” Daniel reminded her. “And there could never be anything drab about you, Miranda. Everything about you sparkles.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Miranda hesitated a brief moment before placing her hand in the bend of his elbow. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Because my mother said …”
He read the uncertainty in her eyes. “Your mother was correct. We’ve an appointment to meet Bishop Manwaring at St. Michael’s in a quarter of an hour. If we don’t hurry we’ll be late.” He escorted her out of the Blue Salon, through the entry way, out the front door, and down the steps to the coach.
“I don’t understand.”
Daniel couldn’t keep from smiling. “We’re to sign the parish register, remember?” He handed her into the coach, then climbed in behind her and settled himself on the seat beside her instead of on the opposite one.
“Of course I remember,” she told him. “I didn’t think you remembered. You didn’t give any sign of it yesterday morning …” She winced as her head bounced against the velvet squab when the coach lurched into the busy afternoon traffic.
“To my very great shame, I didn’t remember yesterday morning or the day before that.” He leaned closer and brushed the black velvet-trimmed brim of her bonnet with his lips. “I remembered this morning. Although how I could forget making you my duchess is beyond my comprehension.”
“Why should it be?” she asked. “When you made it quite clear that you didn’t want a duchess.” She turned so she could look at him. “You don’t have to do this.”
He frowned. “Do what?”
“This.” Miranda waved her arm and nearly hit him in the face with his signet ring. “It’s quite obvious that you read the article in this morning’s paper and rushed to my side to rescue me and save my reputation. But I assure you it isn’t necessary.”
“I beg to differ,” he drawled, “for it’s very necessary.”
“To protect me?” she asked. “Or you?”
Daniel lifted an eyebrow in query.
Miranda took a deep breath and slowly expelled it. “You didn’t have to marry me to ensure that your secret was safe. I would have kept it without the bonds of marriage.”
“Secret?” Daniel repeated the word as if he’d never heard it before.
“I know about your smuggling, Your Grace. I know that you command a group of men who cross the Channel and slip into France at regular intervals, and I know that you return with precious cargo and leather dispatch pouches that you deliver to the Marquess of Shepherdston.”
Daniel sat back against the seat of the coach and smiled at her, waiting for her to continue.
“You talk in your sleep.”
“I know,” he said softly. “That’s why …”
“Why you don’t trust yourself to spend an entire night with a woman, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“And now you’re blaming yourself because you’re afraid you’ve betrayed yourself and your colleagues, and that your weakness has put them and your enterprise in jeopardy. But you needn’t worry,” Miranda told him. “Because you aren’t alone. Other people talk in their sleep.”
“Name one.”