The Secret Diaries of Miss Miranda Cheever

How dare he kiss her and not mean it.

'Miranda?' Olivia said softly. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm perfectly well,' Miranda choked out, brushing quickly by her as she flew toward the door.

'You don't sound- '

'I'm sad about Leticia,' Miranda snapped. And she was. Anyone who had made Turner that miserable surely deserved to be mourned.

But Olivia, being Olivia, would not be swayed, and as Miranda hurried down the stairs to the front hall, she was right at her heels.

'Leticia!' she exclaimed. 'You must be joking.'

Miranda skidded 'round the landing, holding tight to the banister to keep herself from flying.

'Leticia was a nasty old witch,' Olivia continued. 'She made Turner dreadfully unhappy.'

Precisely.

'Miranda! Miranda! Oh, Turner. Good day.'

'Olivia,' he said politely, giving her a tiny nod.

'Miranda says she is mourning Leticia. Is that not insupportable?'

'Olivia!' Miranda gasped. Turner might have detested his dead wife- enough to say so at her funeral, even- but there were certain things that were quite beyond the bounds of decency.

Turner just looked at Miranda, one of his brows rising into a mockingly quizzical expression.

'Oh, stuff. He hated her, and we all knew it.'

'Candid as always, dear sister,' Turner murmured.

'You've always said you don't enjoy hypocrisy,' she returned.

'True enough.' He looked to Miranda. 'Shall we?'

'You're taking her home?' Olivia asked, even though Miranda had just told her that he was.

'I need to speak with her father.'

'Can't Winston take her?'

'Olivia!' Miranda wasn't sure what embarrassed her more- that Olivia was matchmaking or that she was doing it in front of Turner.

'Winston doesn't need to speak with her father,' Turner said smoothly.

'Well, can't he come along?'

'Not in my curricle.'

Olivia's eyes grew round with longing. 'You're taking your curricle?' It was newly built, high, fast, and sleek, and Olivia had been dying to take the reins.

Turner grinned, and for a moment he almost looked like himself again- the man Miranda had known and loved, all those years ago. 'Maybe I'll even let her drive,' he said, clearly for no other reason than to torture his sister.

It worked, too. Olivia made a strange, gurgling sound, as if she were choking on her own envy.

'Ta, dear sis!' Turner said with a smirk. He slipped his arm through Miranda's and drew her toward the door. 'I shall see you later…or perhaps you'll see me. As I drive by.'

Miranda bit back a laugh as they headed down the steps to the drive. 'You're terrible,' she said.

He shrugged. 'She deserves it.'

'No,' Miranda said, feeling that she ought to stand up for her dearest friend, even if she had enjoyed the scene to an unseemly degree.

'No?'

'Very well, yes, but you're still terrible.'

'Oh, absolutely,' he agreed, and as Miranda let him help her up into the curricle, she wondered how this had all come about, that she was sitting beside him and she was actually smiling and thinking that maybe she didn't hate him, and maybe he could be redeemed.

They drove in silence for the first few minutes. The curricle was very smart, and Miranda could not help but feel terribly stylish as they sped along, high above the road.

'You made quite a conquest this afternoon,' Turner finally said.

Miranda stiffened.

'Winston seems quite taken with you.'

Still, she said nothing. There was nothing she could say, nothing that would leave her with dignity intact. She could deny it, and sound like a coquette, or she could agree and sound boastful. Or taunting. Or, God forbid, as if she wished to make him jealous.

'I suppose I ought to give you my blessing.'

Miranda turned to face him in shock, but Turner kept his eyes on the road as he added, 'It would certainly be an advantageous match for you, and he could undoubtedly do no better. You may be lacking in the funds a younger son so earnestly needs, but you make up for it in sense. And sensibility, for that matter.'

'Oh. I- I- ' Miranda blinked. She hadn't the faintest idea what to say. It was a compliment, and not even a backhanded one at that, but still, it fell a bit flat. She didn't want him to rave about all her stellar qualities if the only reason was to pair her with his brother.

And she didn't want to be sensible. For once she wanted to be beautiful, or exotic, or captivating.

Good heavens. Sensible. It was a miserable designation.

Miranda realized he was waiting for her to finish her halting reply, so she muttered, 'Thank you.'

'I do not wish for my brother to make the same mistakes that I did.'

She looked to him at that. His face was pinched, his eyes pointed determinedly at the road, as if a single glance in her direction might send the world crashing down around them. 'Mistakes?' she echoed softly.

'Mistake,' he said, his voice clipped. 'Singular.'

'Leticia.' There. She'd said it.

The curricle slowed, then stopped. And finally, he looked at her. 'Indeed.'

'What did she do to you?' she asked softly. It was too personal, and highly inappropriate, but she could not stop herself, not when his eyes were focused so intently on hers.

But it was the wrong thing to say. Clearly, because his jaw tensed, and he turned away as he said, 'Nothing that is fit for a lady's ears.'

'Turner- '

He whirled back to face her, his eyes flaring. 'Do you know how she died?'

Miranda was shaking her head even as she said, 'Her neck. She fell.'

'From a horse,' he bit off. 'She was thrown from a horse- '

'I know.'

'- riding to meet her lover.'

That, she hadn't known.

'She was also with child.'

Good God. 'Oh, Turner, I'm so s- '

He cut her off. 'Don't say it. I'm not.'

Her hand covered her open mouth.

'It wasn't mine.'

She swallowed. What could she say? There was nothing to say.

'The first wasn't mine, either,' he added. His nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed, and there was a twist to his lips- almost as if he were daring her. Silently daring her to ask.

'T- ' She tried to say his name, because she thought she ought to speak, but the truth was, she was blessedly thankful when he cut her off.

'She was carrying when we married. It's why we married, if you must know.' He laughed caustically at that. 'If you must know,' he said again. 'That's rich, considering I didn't know.'

The pain in his voice cut through her, but not nearly as much as the self-loathing. She had wondered how he had come to this, and now she knew…and she knew she could never hate him.

'I'm sorry,' she said, because she was, and because anything more would have been too much.