Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever Read Free

quickly moved the ribbon from her right hand to her left.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThis? Oh, a ribbon. Fiona Bennet gave two dozen of them to Olivia, and Olivia said I might keep one.”
    Turner’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he remembered Olivia’s parting words. Don’t worry about what Fiona said. He plucked the ribbon out of her hand. “Ribbons belong in hair, I think.”
    â€œOh, but it doesn’t match my dress,” Miranda said in feeble protest. He’d already fastened it atop her head. “How does it look?” she whispered.
    â€œSmashing.”
    â€œReally?” Her eyes widened doubtfully.
    â€œReally. I’ve always thought that violet ribbons look especially nice with brown hair.”
    Miranda fell in love on the spot. So intense was the feeling that she quite forgot to thank him for the compliment.
    â€œShall we be off?” he said.
    She nodded, not trusting her voice.
    They made their way out of the house and to the stables. “I thought we might ride,” Turner said. “It’s far too nice a day for a carriage.”
    Miranda nodded again. It was uncommonly warm for March.
    â€œYou can take Olivia’s pony. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
    â€œLivvy hasn’t got a pony,” Miranda said, finally finding her voice. “She has a mare now. I’ve one at home, too. We’re not babies, you know.”
    Turner suppressed a smile. “No, I can see that you are not. How silly of me. I wasn’t thinking.”
    A few minutes later, their horses were saddled, and they set off on the fifteen-minute ride to the Cheever home. Miranda stayed silent for the first minute or so, too perfectly happy to spoil the moment with words.
    â€œDid you have a good time at the party?” Turner finally asked.
    â€œOh, yes. Most of it was just lovely.”
    â€œMost of it?”
    He saw her wince. Obviously, she hadn’t meant to say so much. “Well,” she said slowly, catching her lip between her teeth and then letting it go before continuing, “one of the girls said some unkind words to me.”
    â€œOh?” He knew better than to be overly inquisitive.
    And obviously, he was right, because when she spoke, she rather reminded him of his sister, staring up at him with frank eyes as her words spilled firmly from her mouth. “Itwas Fiona Bennet,” she said, with great distaste, “and Olivia called her a silly old cow, and I must say I’m not sorry that she did.”
    Turner kept his expression appropriately grave. “I’m not sorry that she did, either, if Fiona said unkind things to you.”
    â€œI know I’m not pretty,” Miranda burst out. “But it’s dreadfully impolite to say so, not to mention downright mean.”
    Turner looked at her for a long moment, not exactly certain how to comfort the little girl. She wasn’t beautiful, that was true, and if he tried to tell her that she was, she wouldn’t believe him. But she wasn’t ugly. She was just…rather awkward.
    He was saved, however, from having to say anything by Miranda’s next comment.
    â€œIt’s this brown hair, I think.”
    He raised his brows.
    â€œIt’s not at all fashionable,” Miranda explained. “And neither are brown eyes. And I’m too skinny by half, and my face is too long, and I’m far too pale.”
    â€œWell, that’s all true,” Turner said.
    Miranda turned to face him, her eyes looming large and sad in her face.
    â€œYou certainly do have brown hair and eyes. There is no use arguing that point.” He tilted his head and pretended to give her a complete inspection. “You are rather thin, and your face is indeed a trifle long. And you certainly are pale.”
    Her lips trembled, and Turner could tease her no more. “But as it happens,” he said with a smile, “I myself prefer women with brown hair and