Truly a Wife (Free Fellows League 4)

“Griffin,” Miranda announced. “Alyssa says Griffin has suffered nightmares since he returned from the Peninsula and often talks in his sleep because of them.”

“Griffin endured a year of horrors we can’t begin to imagine. I’d be surprised if he didn’t suffer from nightmares or talk in his sleep. But until I was injured, I had never endured hardship of any kind. There’s no reason for me not to rest easily at night. But …” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m as bad as my valet. Apparently I cannot be trusted with a secret either.” He met her gaze. “What did I say?”

“You called me Micah,” she told him. “And you sent me to Lord Shepherdston’s house to deliver leather dispatch pouches.”

Daniel nodded, remembering the glimpse he’d caught of Miranda in trousers and a nightshirt, and the pile of wet clothing lying in the floor of the master bedchamber of the house on Curzon Street. Men’s clothing. His clothing. Except for a nightshirt and a pair of ruined mint-green satin dancing slippers. Clothing that had never reappeared. “You went to Shepherdston’s. You put on my clothes, and you made your way from Curzon Street to Shepherdston’s house on Park Lane in a downpour to deliver the leather pouches.” He frowned. “But there weren’t any leather pouches because Micah had already delivered them.”

Miranda nodded.

“Good god, Miranda, anything could have happened to you.” Daniel raked his fingers through his hair. “If something had happened to you …” He looked at her. “Why would you do such a thing? You didn’t know Micah. Or the significance of what you were doing. Or the danger you might be facing.”

“I did it because you asked me to,” she replied simply. “Because you threatened to get out of bed and go to Shepherdston’s if I didn’t, and I couldn’t allow you to do yourself further harm.” Her hands were folded primly in her lap, and Miranda lowered her gaze and stared at them as she twisted Daniel’s signet around and around her finger. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d seen Lord Shepherdston. Or how I would have explained. But Lord Shepherdston was entertaining an early-morning guest, so I returned to Curzon Street to take care of you.”

Daniel was suddenly quite proud of the fact that he’d had the good sense to fall in love with Miranda. For who and what she was. A peeress in her own right who didn’t need to marry a title or secure a fortune, but who had made no secret of the fact that all she had ever wanted was to be his wife.

“Miranda.” Her name was as soft and as fervent as prayer upon his lips as Daniel reached over, untied the black bow beneath her chin, removed her bonnet, and tossed it onto the opposite seat, before he leaned over to kiss her.

“You don’t have to marry me,” she reminded him as soon as he stopped kissing her long enough for her to speak. “I shall always keep your secrets safe.” She stared into Daniel’s blue eyes. “I would die before I’d betray you.”

“I don’t want you to die for me,” he said softly. “I want you to live with me for the next fifty or sixty years so I can die a happy man.”

“Daniel?” She almost didn’t dare to hope.

“Hell and damnation, but you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Miranda nodded. “And I’d rather you didn’t say it with a curse upon your lips.”

“How about with the taste of you upon my lips?” Daniel asked, moments before he kissed her again. “I love you, M

iranda,” he whispered when he pulled his lips from hers.

“Since when?” she demanded.

“The easier question would be: when haven’t I loved you?” He turned on the seat as the coach rolled into St. Michael’s Square, took Miranda’s face in his hands, and looked her in the eye. “I can’t remember a day since I met you that I didn’t find something to love about you. Your face. Your figure. Your honesty. Your directness. Your sharp tongue and quick wit. Your intelligence. Your compassion. Your dignity. Your loyalty. Your friendship. Your love.”

“You loved me yet you didn’t want to marry me?”

“I didn’t want to marry anyone except you,” he told her. “But I was young and I wanted to wait a bit.” He pursed his lips in thought. “I still had dreams I wanted to pursue and adventures to experience. I wanted to have more to offer the world than a big house and a magnificent garden.” He smiled. “I wanted to be more.”

“A smuggler?”

He nodded. “With a cargo far more valuable than brandy and lace.”

Miranda grasped his meaning. “Oh, good heavens!” she exclaimed. “You’re a …”

Daniel silenced her with a kiss. And kept her silent with kisses until the temperature in the coach reached an unbearable level and he had to fight to keep from stripping off both their clothes and making love to her in the center of St. Michael’s Square.

“Shall we make it official and restore your good name?” he asked, as she lay in his arms. “Or would you like to reconsider?”

“I would delight in having my good name restored by making it official,” she told him.

Daniel quickly helped her put her clothes to rights. He handed her her bonnet and opened the door.

Miranda settled her bonnet on her head, tied the bow under her chin, then placed her hand on his arm and allowed Daniel to accompany her into the church, where Bishop Manwaring was waiting with the parish registry.

Daniel signed his name with a flourish, then watched as Miranda did the same before shaking hands with the bishop.

“I’m afraid I need my signet back, my sweet,” Daniel whispered, reaching down to slide it off her finger and onto his before he unbuttoned her glove and tugged it off.