“You gave it to me,” she murmured in protest. “For safekeeping until you could do better.”
“Why don’t we make a trade?” Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a small box. “Because I believe these will fit you much better.” He opened the box to reveal the Sussex Emerald and a gold band.
Miranda gasped. “Oh, Daniel …” Tears sparkled in her eyes as she beheld his gift. If she’d doubted that he would ever claim her, she could lay those doubts to rest, for once she wore the Sussex Emerald in public, everyone would know that she was Daniel’s chosen bride.
He lifted the rings out of the box and slipped them onto Miranda’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Miranda extended her hand to admire the way her betrothal ring and its matching wedding band complimented her hand. “I don’t know what to say.”
He laughed. “Miranda St. Germaine at a loss for words? I don’t believe it!”
“Miranda Sussex,” she corrected, quickly finding her tongue. “And extraordinary wedding rings will do that to a girl.” She looked up at him. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I do,” Daniel said, leaning close to suggest several ways she might want to express her gratitude. “Why don’t we go home so you can show me?”
* * *
But home presented a problem.
Neither of them wanted to return to Upper Brook Street or to Sussex House. Curzon Street was no longer a secret haven, and Haversham House, the place they both longed to be, was too far away from town to be practical.
Clarendon’s Hotel offered an immediate solution, but it wasn’t the solution they wanted.
Daniel helped Miranda back into the coach, climbed in beside her, and paused when his driver asked, “Where to, Your Grace?”
“Where to?” Daniel repeated the question. “Aye, there’s the rub. For I’m a man of many houses with not one private bed to call his own.”
“Not to worry,” she said, reaching over to caress his face with her hand. “For you’ve married a woman of considerable property.” Turning, she called out to the driver: “Regent’s Park Lake.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Let those love now who never loved before;
Let those who always loved, now love the more.”
—Thomas Parnell, 1679–1718
The villa John Nash was building for Miranda at Regent’s Park was nearly completed and already partially furnished. It was so near to completion that the locks had already been installed on the doors and windows. And Miranda had come away from Upper Brook Street without a key.
Fortunately, Daniel was better prepared. Reaching down, he withdrew a knife from his boot and set to work on the lock on the conservatory door. It yielded to the pressure of his blade within minutes.
“I would carry you over the threshold,” Daniel said, as he pushed the conservatory door open and ushered Miranda inside. “But I don’t think my ribs will allow it.” He closed the door behind him, relocked it, and glanced around at the room. “Please tell me there’s a bed.”
“There is.” She took him by the hand. “In a room up one flight of stairs, where the doors open onto a balcony overlooking the lake.”
Daniel groaned at the mention of stairs, but Miranda gave him a look that promised she would make climbing them worth his while, and he happily followed her lead, allowing her to pull him up the flight of stairs to the bedroom with the balcony overlooking the lake.
Where a large bed awaited him.
Miranda led him to it, then turned and unfastened her dress, pushing it off her shoulders, over her hips, and down her long legs, allowing it to puddle on the floor at her feet. She dispensed with her undergarments, untied her stockings, and stepped out of her green slippers. And stood before Daniel in all her naked glory.
He had seen women who were more beautiful than she was, had courted them and shared their beds, but he had never seen a woman he wanted more than he wanted Miranda. She was his equal. His match. The part of him he hadn’t known was missing until she had taken him inside her and made him her own.
Standing a few feet away from him, Miranda moistened her dry lips and stood quietly waiting for him to make a move.
Daniel stood in the center of the room at the foot of the bed and continued his study of her. He leaned against the footboard, barely daring to breathe as he waited to see what she would do next.
Realizing suddenly that they were playing a chess game of sorts where he was encouraging her to be the aggressor, Miranda looked him in the eyes.