There have been benefits, to playing invalid—more, if he was willing to stretch it out, but those are exactly the sort of games he won’t play with her. He does come down from playing enough to actually consider her words, consider how dancing might have worsened it, and rests a hand on her hip intently.

“Assuming you aren’t overcome with the need to post particularly hard, I think all will be well.” He rubs along the bone of her hip, through the silk, savoring it and her, her here, them here, after so long. "But it would make for a good story, if you had the mind to rebreak it."

And then his hand rests at the small of her back, where the ties from the corset drop, toying with the aglets between his fingers.

“Would you like help with your lacing, or did you have something in mind?” She may have plans. She usually has plans, with something this intricate laid out.